Five Song Friday Rerun: Some Like It Yacht

This Week: Words I Already Wrote About the Fresh Sounds from the Way Way Back

Mar 22, 2024

I have a few words for the dingus who came up with the term “Yacht Rock.”

Mind your own business.

Your clever turn of phrase has reduced a rich chapter of my musical life to some kind of cheeky joke. I don’t appreciate it and I’d like to physically fight you.

You name the time and the place and I’ll be there with both my fists and the eye of the tiger. As a rule, I don’t usually punch clowns. But for you, I’ll make an exception.

You think I’m kidding, but I can’t wait to come home to my wife so she can ask me what’s that stuff all over my hands.

I’ll say, “Oh this? It’s just white greasepaint and CLOWN BLOOD.”

Too harsh? Well, you should have thought of that before you made a joke out of the life’s work of artists like Boz Scaggs, Christopher Cross and Air Supply.

I don’t know who you are or why you did this, but I'll find out eventually.

Maybe you’re some kind of self-loathing old person like me and you wanted to put this type of music in a box labeled “Guilty Pleasures” so you can justify listening to them without fear of mockery or judgement.

“Oh this old song? It’s so corny and awful… I love it!”

Shut up you heartless ghoul.

That song is not corny or awful, it’s called “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty and it’s a goddamned masterpiece.

Or maybe you’re a Gen Z person who’s raging against the machine and doing some kind of five-dimensional, post-irony kung-fu cultural commentary where you say you like something but you don’t “like-like” it and you’re only using Steely Dan songs in your Tik-Toks because it’s the best way to trigger the old, white cis male patriarchy.

It’s entirely plausible that one of you coined the term “Yacht Rock,” because you Gen Z’ers don’t have much respect for your musical past. You rummage through our classic songs and make funny faces and roll your eyes and giggle because everything old is just one big joke unless, of course, it’s Matthew Wilder’s “Break My Stride” or Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill,” in which case, you yell GENIUS like you hit BINGO and pretend you “discovered” songs that are almost 40 years old.

But my money is that you, the person who invented the “Yacht Rock” slur, are a snarky, big city, capital-M Millennial who needs to ironically label things in order to enjoy them. Calling it “Yacht Rock” gives you license to wear a captain’s hat and white linen pants and drink rum cocktails.

“Whee! Look at me! I’m from Kennebunkport and my favorite singer is Gordon Lightfoot!”

You own copies of The Eagles Greatest Hits, The Best of the Doobies and Rumours on cassette. You collect K-Tel compilations on vinyl.

And you sing along at the top of your lungs but you should just shut up because you don’t mean it. You’ve got your fingers crossed and you’re winking the whole time.

Well I have news for all of you Wink Martindales, some of us really DO care.

Some of us remember those songs from the radio (and our actual lives) and hearing them triggers emotions and memories (some good, some bad, some weird) that transport us backwards in time to a world before emojis and snark.

We genuinely love those songs.

Sometimes when we listen to them, we close our eyes and smack our lips like “mmmm.” Why? Because we can actually TASTE the nostalgia inside of our mouth. It’s sweet and delicious like fine chocolate and not bitter and sad like your dumb face.

When we hear those songs, we feel something.

It’s call SINCERITY. Ever heard of it? Hint: It’s not an app or brand of cruelty-free bottled water. It’s a virtue, you callous monster.

Sincerity is honesty (such a lonely word).

Sincerity is authentic and genuine and doesn’t concern itself with being cool or hip or worrying about whether or not the car next to you at the stop light is laughing at you for cranking Gary Wright loud enough to rattle your windows.

Sincerity says, let them laugh. We know “Dream Weaver” slays.

Sincerity likes what it likes and doesn’t need excuses or air quotes.

You go ahead and “enjoy” Yacht Rock for its campy, kitchsy, retro squareness.

I going to ENJOY these adult contemporary and soft rock songs of the late seventies and early eighties FOR REAL.

I like piña coladas, getting caught in the rain, the feel of the ocean and the taste of champagne.

A summer breeze really does make me feel fine.

And sailing? You bet your ass it takes me away to where I’ve always heard it could be.

Thanks for reading.

Have a wonderful weekend.

DJ CrankyPete

NOTE: Once upon a time when they repeated an old episode of a television show, they called them reruns. They could be a blessing or a curse. Sometimes you would tune in to watch The A-Team and it would be the episode where they help the watermelon farmer and his daughter and you’d be like, “Aw, man. I already seen this one and it is dumb.” But then sometimes you’d tune in and it would be “Black Day at Bad Rock” and you’d say, “Aw man! Sweet! This is the one with the motorcycle gang!”

RERUN: Five Song Friday 018

“Head Rush” - Art d’Ecco

Here’s the deal with Art d’Ecco: nobody knows his real name.

I mean, SOMEBODY knows. There have to be people who know. But in terms of the internet, he’s simply known by his stage name, a name that kinda sounds like he’s the balding, cigar-chewing owner of an eclectic home furnishings boutique on Staten Island.

But alas, this Art d’Ecco does not sell faux tiger skin rugs and pleather sofas. This Art d’Ecco makes music that sounds plucked from the Euro-pop, Moog and mascara glory days of 1982 and it works.

“Head Rush” is from his 2021 album, In Standard Definition, described as “a concept album about entertainment.” It was recorded in analog on a 50-year-old console, so you get that retro authenticity in every note.

Thankfully, you don’t have to be an audiophile to appreciate it. Just close your eyes and listen to this song. Let yourself go back to the past. Do you feel it? Can you see it?

You’re in a hotel pool, chicken fighting with Falco and the guys from Spandau Ballet. Giorgio Moroder wants lotion on his back and those weirdos from the Human League are just standing by the pool in business suits.

Good times.

“Mañana Forever” - Bonaparte

Great news guys! Canada isn’t the only country where they make music!

I found this Swiss guy named Bonaparte (aka Tobias Jundt) who lives in Berlin.

His super catchy song “Mañana Forever” is from 2013 and it’s all about giving the middle finger to deadlines. Who likes doing stuff? Nobody, that’s who!

I have officially adopted it as my 2022 Procrastination Theme Song.

I’ve got additional thoughts about this, but I’ll write more later.

“(I’m) Stranded” - The Saints

Before they became Australia’s elder statesmen of punk rock, the Saints were just another schoolboy cover band. They came together in 1973, inspired by groups like MC5 and the Stooges. A few years later, their sound took shape as a chaotic blend of buzzsaw guitar and snarling vocals played at 90 miles per hour (which in their case, was more like 144 kilometers per hour).

The Saints released their debut single, “(I’m) Stranded” in September 1976.

The record came out the same month that George W. Bush got a DUI in Maine and the Irish band U2 was born. It was also the same month that the world was introduced to the VHS tape, The Muppet Show and Charlie’s Angels. The release put them ahead of debut singles from the Damned, the Sex Pistols and the Clash, giving them instant international punk rock street cred and a handsome 1st place trophy.

While the band would change styles and members (their Wiki page shows more than three dozen in a colorful and complex timeline chart), the Saints kept making music until April of this year when founder and lead singer Chris Bailey died at 65.

Bob Geldof once said that “Rock music in the seventies was changed by three bands—the Sex Pistols, the Ramones and the Saints.” But he also said, “Music can’t change the world” and “Rock and roll is instant coffee.”

So maybe that Bob Geldof guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Why Not” - I Am ORFA

Imagine you’re me. You hear this song and you think, okay, I dig this.

But when you go to read up on the band, you find this: “I Am Orfa is an Amy Stroup X Milkglass Creative production with a select crew of progressive collaborators. ORFA rolls bicoastal calling both La and Nashville home.”

What do you (as me) do next?

a. Nod along like this sentence makes perfect sense to your brain, even though it doesn’t (and actually confuses you to such a degree that you sputter laugh like Beavis)

b. Look around the room for an explanation even though you are alone and then panic and start texting “SOS” to all of your phone contacts

c. Read and re-read the sentence out loud until the words become a mish-mash of nonsense sounds and your legs buckle out from under you and the only thing you can do is scream “I AM ORFA!” over and over until the dogs start howling and your neighbors call the police

d. All of the above, followed by a long nap

“Nothing But Green Lights” - Tom Vek

I know I’m mildly obsessed and sometimes baffled by performer stage names, but this one doesn’t make me crazy.

The English musician known as Tom Vek is actually Thomas Timothy Vernon-Kell. That change makes perfect sense, right? Tom was thinking ahead, because he knew that once he got famous, signing autographs would take him all day if he had to write “Thomas Timothy Vernon-Kell” on the records, CDs or cleavage of his adoring fans.

“Tom Vek” is short and to the point. Six letters. Easy peasy. Saves ink when printing swag too. You want to be the guy who has to squeeze “Thomas Timothy Vernon-Kell” on the back of a tour shirt? I don’t.

“Nothing But Green Lights” is from Vek’s 2005 debut album, We Have Sound.

He recorded the album while finishing a graphic design degree and if you listen closely, you can hear hints of that degree sprinkled throughout the album’s ten tracks. But it really comes to the forefront in the bonus tracks, “I Love Kerning,” “Vector Logo Dance Party,” and “We Need More White Space.”