Five Song Friday: Nuthin' but a G Thang
This Week: Lukewarm Soup, Dumb Noise and Odd Couple Combos
I held a one-day-old girl yesterday.
A six-pound, rosy-cheeked burrito, wired-up like a 1992 stereo system.
Baby A (not her real name) is one half of an adorable new duo calling themselves “My Granddaughters.”
That’s right: GRAND-daughters.
Good lord.
Can it be?
I’m afraid so.
Genetic scientists have confirmed it… the very first time my son’s twin girls tasted air (this past Wednesday, just after 11pm) was the exact same moment that I became a (capital G) Grandfather.
The tiny pink human miracle (in cahoots with her sister) bestowed on me the very real honor (and equally real special powers) of Grandpa-hood.
I’m a Pop-Pop. A Nonno, an Opa or an Abuelo.
[Grandfather nickname TBD]
It’s a pretty big deal for me.
But I’m a little annoyed because she didn’t even bother to open her eyes.
I considered our moment to be magical, but she couldn’t even with me.
Today was the first day of the rest of her life… and she slept in.
Kids these days.
Back in my time, we came out of the womb respecting our elders.
I was still (literally) wet behind the ears and a complete noob in the outside world, but I KNEW.
I knew as soon I caught a whiff of unfiltered cigarettes and instant coffee, it was showtime.
Yes sir, once I was in my Grandpa’s very hairy (and almost certainly un-sanitized) arms, I was all wide-eyed smiles and slobbery mumbles!
Look at me! Look what YOUR son did! He made LIFE!
One day I will have a beard and take pictures with my TELEPHONE!
Back then I had something to prove.
But not my granddaughter.
She was too busy fitting her whole fist in her mouth and making poop faces.
It’s not enough that she ignores me?
She has to steal my dinner party ice-breaker too?
Sincerely,
DJ CrankyPete
Five Song Friday 078
“Pool Party” - Rudy Willingham
Let’s squeeze in one last ode to summertime fun before the school bells ring and suck all the fun out of the atmosphere. This is a goofy, jaunty jam that reminds of the days when the public pool was a place of magic and wonder and not a trigger for my phobia of swimming in a lukewarm soup of chlorine, sweat and the freshly shed, floating hairs of strangers.
“Driver’s Seat” - Sniff ‘n’ The Tears
Here’s what I’m going to do, I’m not even going to Google these guys. I like this song, I remember this song, and I think it wonderfully captures the quintessential pop-rock sound of a certain age. But what confounds me is the band name. Who ever thought a couple of seasonal allergy symptoms was the sort of moniker that would echo into eternity? Did they initially reject Cough ‘n’ The Migraines? Or Insomnia ‘n’ The Restless Legs? Personally, I would have gone with Perineum ‘n’ The Irritable Bowels.
“Keep on Livin’” - Le Tigre
I just realized more than a few of this week’s songs involve a “folksy apostrophe.” This was not intentional. But I don’t hate it. Getting rid of that “g” really changes the FEEL of certain words. “Keep on Livin’” sounds like brilliant advice from a stoner sage who just figured out the secrets of the universe, while “Keep on Living” sounds like dumb noise from someone who doesn’t know how life works. Keep on living? Yeah, thanks. My heart beats on its own and breathing is involuntary, thanks to my autonomic nervous system, so whatever. But I’m more than happy to “Keep on Livin’” because that sounds awesome and just the kind of thing Matthew McConaughey would do!
“Everybody Walkin’ This Land” - Paul Cauthen
I’ve made my contempt for contemporary country music clear. But sometimes, when the writing sounds clever and the deep vocals rattle your bones like the late, great Johnny Cash, I will surrender my attention. Cauthen has something unique going on and I don’t mind it one bit. It was hard to choose between this song and “Country as Fuck,” his shameless ode to classic and quirky American redneckery… but I flipped a coin and here we are. You should still listen to the other song too.
“Fallin’”- Teenage Fanclub, De La Soul
If you don’t remember Judgment Night, the 1993 thriller starring Emilio Estevez and Cuba Gooding, Jr., it’s no big deal. Not many people do. The best thing to come out of that movie was the soundtrack, a high-concept album that paired hip-hop, rap, alternative and heavy metal into an assortment of “your peanut butter mixed with my chocolate!” one-hit indie wonders. In addition to this odd couple pairing of Scottish alt-rock darlings and Long Island’s legendary art-rap trio, the soundtrack teamed up bands like Ice-T and Slayer and Mudhoney and Sir-Mix-A-Lot.
“Those who wish to sing always find a song.” ― Swedish proverb