David Bowie "The Man Who Sold The World"

Much like "Random Ridiculous Songs That Have No Business Being Played In Public Again But I Heard In The Grocery Store Today," I keep an ear out for songs in public places, that are strangely out of place.

For instance, standing in front of the elevators of the Florence, South Carolina Doubletree Hotel, it does not seem like they should be playing David Bowie's "The Man Who Sold The World."

But on the tail end of a long vacation, somehow it seemed appropriate.

I'd just come from Disney, where the art of merchandising is perfected, and amazing.

I mean, it's no revelation that the amusement rides promote the movies and the movies promote the rides, and they both promote the t-shirts and stuffed animals and acres of plastic crap that is every which way you turn.

But I did find myself both impressed an horrified and the marketing onslaught.

And as I stood there in front of the elevators, I thought, yeah Bowie, you're right, you can slap a logo on just about anything and sell it.  Even the world.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Amy Adams "Happy Little Working Song"

This week, I'm on vacation with the family at Disneyworld.  So I thought I'd write some posts about Disney songs.

If you're like a younger me, maybe you feel like you're too old for Disney tunes and Disney movies.

So maybe you saw the previews for "Enchanted" and thought that there was no chance that you'd go so it.

If that's you, then reconsider.

Because while "Enchanted" is great for fans of Disney, it's also great for folks who can't stand the tropes and schmatlz of some of their films.  It doesn't an incredible job of lovingly skewering the whole genre.

Watch the scene for "Happy Little Working Song," and tell me it doesn't make you laugh.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Cliff Edwards "When I See An Elephant Fly"

This week, I'm on vacation with the family at Disneyworld.  So I thought I'd write some posts about Disney songs.

Do you feel guilty like I do, for enjoying this ditty from "Dumbo"?  Or how about "The Siamese Cat Song" from "Lady & The Tramp"?

I mean, each song on its own, is very funny and cute.  But it's impossible to ignore that in their original form, they're pretty frickin' racist.


Hear "When I See An Elephant Fly" on Youtube.


Hear "The Siamese Cat Song" song on Youtube.

Sarah McLachlan "When She Loved Me"

This week, I'm on vacation with the family at Disneyworld.  So I thought I'd write some posts about Disney songs.
Well, you couldn't be blamed for missing a few details tucked into the sequence of "Toy Story 2" where Sarah McLachlan sings "When She Loved Me" and you learned Jessie's cruel fate.

No doubt you were balling your eyes out, like the rest of us.

Have you read this piece, which theorizes that Jessie's former-owner Emily is . . . bomp-bomp-bommmmm!  Andy's Mother?!?!

It's a little nutty.  But it's a pretty thorough examination . . .


Hear the song on Youtube.

The Replacements "Cruella De Vil"

This week, I'm on vacation with the family at Disneyworld.  So I thought I'd write some posts about Disney songs.

With a 6 year old in the house, I'm starting to see the change . . .

She has a younger brother, and every once and a while there will be some thing that she used to love, but she suddenly rejects, because "That's for little kids."

There is a lot of this in life.  At a certain point, you age out of particular toys, games, music, activities, etc.

But an unexpected delight of adulthood, is that sometimes you age back in.

By high school, I had aged out of Disney movies.  In the 80s, there was no way you were going to catch me in the theaters for "The Great Mouse Detective" or "The Black Cauldron."

Then a funny thing happened in college.

The Replacements covered "Cruella De Ville" for a compilation of Disney songs called "Stay Awake."  And while I think their delivery was somewhat ironic, I think it also holds an appreciation for the classic song-craft that went into tunes like this one.

And suddenly it was okay to like Disney songs.  Even find them fun, enjoyable and cool.

Which is why it's not unheard of for me to be the one in our house who is most enjoying Sesame Street or the Sit-N-Spin . . .


Hear the song on Youtube.

Bambi "Let's Sing A Gay Little Spring Song"

Hopefully, you are celebrating the end of winter and the first day of Spring by singing a gay little song . . .

Here's to getting Twitterpated!


Hear the song on Youtube.


See the scene on Youtube.

Frozen "In Summer"

We took the kids to see the Disney movie "Frozen" this weekend.

We're only on December 2nd, and I have already seen "Elmo's Christmas Countdown" three times, and "The Grinch" twice.

The switch in my brain the kinda turns off the holiday-kiddie-fare has been activated.

That said, "Frozen" was actually very, very good.  Like, I walked out of the theater humming the songs, feeling good about the message, and not having to console any small children because the villain was too f-n scary.

My wife enjoyed it too.  And before we were even to the car she said what I knew she was going to say:

"Oh, we are buying that soundtrack!"

The songs were particularly good in this Disney effort.  On par with Disney's best modern musicals, like "The Little Mermaid" and "Beauty And The Beast."

On the whole, big thumbs up for this film.

If I had any minor critique about the film, it was that the Snowman character seems a little out of place.  The rest of the movie has this mystical-realism style, similar to "Brave."  And the Snowman is straight out of something very cartoon-y, almost like a computer-animated Chuck Jones creation.  It's like he's wandered in from a different film project.

That said, I expect to see more of Olaf the Snowman.  I would not be surprised to find him showing up in his own future shorts and specials.  He is hilarious (voiced by Josh Gad of "Book Of Mormon" fame), and has one of the best songs in the film, where he imagines the wonderful life of a snowman in summer.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Kidz Bop Kids "Hey Ya"

There was a creepy greying man in the toy aisle at Walmart, his arms filled with "The Littlest Pet Shop" figurines.  Mothers with young children gave him a wide berth, even skipping the aisle to avoid this man who was clearly some kind of pervert.  I, too, felt pretty skevved out by him.

And unfortunately, "him" was me.

Yeah, nothing makes a grown man feel like a creep, than having to shop for birthday presents for his elementary-school-aged nieces.  Hanging out, picking up various Barbies and their modern day plastic equivalents looks suspicious when you are an adult man on his own.

My sister's 3 children have Spring birthdays, so to save everyone in the family a bit of hassle, she just has one family party and we celebrate all three at once.  It's also near her husband's birthday.  And it's usually the weekend before Mother's Day.  And this year, the middle child was making her First Communion.

In short, there were a lot of presents to buy.

Now I got to feel pretty cool going to a Game Stop, to pick up the Super Mario Wii game that my nephew wanted.

And I only looked slightly out of place amongst the Moms and retired ladies that made up the bulk of the clientele at Marshalls.  My brother-in-law had asked for a "Sit-Up Mat" for his birthday.

"What's a 'Sit-Up Mat'?" I asked my sister.

"It's a manly looking Yoga Mat, I guess."

I dug through the bin of what they were calling "Fitness Mats" (that prominently featured a woman doing yoga on the packaging).  Under a pile of pink and mauve roll up mats, was a plain grey one.  Score!

But I was going to have to go to a legitimate toy place for the presents for my two nieces, who are elementary and preschool aged.

"They like anything Littlest Pet Shop.  And Cate like Beanie Boos."

I really wanted to spend my money at a local toy store, as opposed to a chain.  But why did it feel odd to be in there?

I was walking up and down the aisles, list in hand, just feeling weird.

What was unsettling about this place?

On the store's PA system, "Hey Ya" was on.  But it wasn't "Hey Ya."  It was a different version of "Hey Ya."

The song was probably over 3/4th over by the time this registered.  About the time where Andre 3000 usually sings "I don't want to meet your momma/I just wanna make you come-a."

Only, in this version, the singer just sang, "I don't want to meet your momma . . . " and just let the second half of the line hang there.

It was a cleaned-up version of "Hey Ya," made specifically for kids.  They had removed any overt sexual references, so children could enjoy the fun of the song, without being subjected to anything inappropriate.  When I got home to research it, I found there is a major market for this, with dozens of CDs produced each year, with "kid" versions of popular songs.

I had entered a Twee world.  Where things were neat and innocent and scrubbed of any inappropriateness.  And a childless adult male wandering through a twee world, is a little weird.

The last time I was at Disneyworld, my wife and I were thrilled to get in a line-up with our daughter, to have the chance to meet and have her picture taken with Ariel, the Little Mermaid (you know, an actor, dressed like her).  Our little girl loves The Little Mermaid.  But so did the guy in front of us.  He was probably in his late 20s.  He was alone.  He had a backpack that looked like stuffed animal.  And he was there to have his picture taken with The Little Mermaid.  He may have been a perfectly normal and nice person.  He didn't do anything overtly inappropriate.  But just the fact that he was in line to have his picture taken with The Little Mermaid was kind of creepy.

And that's how I felt at Walmart.

The local toy store didn't have what I was looking for, so I went down the road to Walmart.  Where the creepy bar is significantly lower.

And yet, standing in the particular toy aisle where everything is pink and made out of plastic and has huuugge "cute" eyes, I felt like one of those people you look at in Walmart, avert your eyes, and move just a little more quickly to get your discount stuff and get the hell out of there.

Maybe it was all in my head.  Maybe no one in the store gave a second thought to it.  Maybe the woman at the cash register wasn't judging me and my purchase of a "Littlest Pet Shop Sweet Delights Treat Truck Set."

Maybe.


I didn't want to ask the folks at the local toy store what CD they were playing, so I wasn't really sure what version of "Hey Ya" I was listening to.  This isn't exactly it, but it'll give you the idea, if you're not familiar with "kids versions."


Hear the song on Youtube.

Stevie Ray Vaughan "Cold Shot"

This isn't so much a story about the day Stevie Ray Vaughan died (which happened 22 years ago, this Monday).

This is a story that takes place on the day Stevie Ray Vaughan died.  So as the story reaches it's culmination, you can imagine SRV songs being played in the background.

But before we get to the culmination, let's go back, to the Spring of 1990, to the end of the semester at UMass.

I had just met this amazing girl.  I'd known her from around for a while, but we had both recently become single again and we had connected.  Really connected.  Hearts pounding.

But the semester was winding down, and I didn't know what the summer would bring.

Meaning both, I didn't know if we would be able to maintain something as we returned to our hometowns, and I really didn't know what I was going to do with my summer.

This was the summer between my Junior and Senior year, and I was aware that I should probably be doing something to prepare for a career.  But hadn't spent any time planning anything.

Somewhere late in the game, I lined up a TV production internship in my hometown, but to make it official, I had to get one of the Professors in the Communications department to sponsor me.

I looked down the list of Professors.  There were many I liked.  Several I respected.  And a few I was totally impressed/slightly afraid of.  But none of them were likely to deal with me, so late in the game.

No, if I was going to slip one under the wire, I knew who I had to go to.

There was this tenured professor, who must've been a few seconds away from retirement.  I'd had him for a couple of introductory classes.  He was very nice, but clearly he was some combination of a) noticeably kinda senile, b) somewhat flaky and c) not really giving too much of a shit.

"I only give two grades for internships," he absently told me, while signing off on my paperwork.  "And all I ask is that you write me a 3 page paper on your experience.  Turn that in on time, and you get an 'A.'  Don't turn it in, and you get an 'F.'"

Seemed simple enough.

Okay, quick summer montage . . . I work a ton of hours at the local cable company doing TV production and learning valuable skills . . . to make some cash I work the graveyard shift at a local gas station . . . I fall head over heels in love with the girl, and any waking second that I'm not working or sleeping, I get in the car to go visit her.

August.  The Finns take a vacation.

With this being my last summer "off," before entering the Real World, my folks decided we should take one more family trip, to Disney World.

In the planning stages, this sounded great.  But now, I was devastated that I'd go for a week without seeing my girl.

I visited her the night before we were supposed to leave for Orlando.  Before our tearful goodbye, I asked her to do me a favor.

(Remember that this is 1990, before email, before cell phones)

I gave her my 3 page paper, outlining all the terrific things I had learned on my internship.  She was headed back to UMass in a couple of days.  It seemed much safer for her to drop the paper with my professor, than for me to trust the US Postal Service to get it there on time.  She agreed.

The Finns had a fine time in Florida, and it WAS the last chance for my parents and two siblings and I to all vacation together.  But I missed my girlfriend terribly.

After touching down at Logan, we headed up Route 1 to home, WBCN had the news:  Stevie Ray Vaughan had died in a helicopter crash.

We listened to Stevie Ray songs for the ride home.

The first thing I did upon arriving home, was call out to UMass to talk to my girl.

After a bit of chit-chat I asked, "What did my professor say?"

"Oh my God . . ."

There was a long period of what seemed like silence.  Then I realized that she was crying.

She had forgotten to turn in my paper.  It was due 2 days ago.

My internship was for course credit.  Not just the weight of a single class, but for the weight of four classes.  I tried in my head to figure out what the equivalent of a full semester's worth of "F"s would do to my already weak GPA.  Probably something I would never recover from, academically.

But you know what?  After about 5 minutes, I didn't care.  I just wanted to see her.

I got in the car at the crack of dawn and raced to see her.  Stevie Ray Vaughan played on the radio as a barreled down Route 2.
 
It was a tearful and joyful reunion.  She had hardly slept, so upset at missing my deadline.  She'd gone down to my professor's office in the middle of the night and slid my paper under his door.

I took the stoic approach.  What was done, was done.  Nothing to do about it.  "Well, you're going to have to support me, when I can't get a job," I told her.

Flash-forward to a month later.  My grades come.  I may have acted stoic, but in the moment, I felt ill, my heart pounded.  I opened the envelope.

"A."

I got an "A."

What would the equivalent of a full semester's worth of "A"s would do to my GPA?  Well, hopefully make me moderately employable.

And, the post-script . . .

In my wise years, I have learned to leave well enough alone, but in 1990, I couldn't.

How did I get an "A"?  How did he not notice that the paper was days late?

I couldn't resist.  I went to my professor's office, and asked for my graded paper back.  (Again, this was in the days before real computers, so I didn't have a digital copy of the paper; he had the only copy)

"Uh . . .hmmm . . ." he shuffled through disheveled stacks of books and folders and papers on his desk.  "Where is . . . hmm . . . uh . . ."

"Well thank you for the 'A'" I said.

"Hmm . . . yes, if I gave you an 'A' I must've read it, right? . . . hmm . . . but I don't see it here.  Well . . . "  He just trailed off, and gave me a look that said, "Is there anything else?"

I don't know if he ever got the paper, or read the paper, and I guess it didn't matter.

My academic career, much like SRV at the end of this video, was magically resurrected.


Hear the song on Youtube.

The Muses "The Gospel Truth"

"muses . . ."

(from Disney's "Hercules")


Hear the song on Youtube.

(If this post doesn't make sense, read Friday's post)

Foreigner "Waiting For A Girl Like You"

There's a Steven Wright joke about driving cross country, with only 1 cassette in the car.

But this wasn't really a joke for the Finn Family. I only owned 2 cassettes, and both were in the car with us.

Now, the reason I only owned 2 cassettes, was that I had finally reach an age where my allowance was such that I could save up and buy my very own music purchases. So I was just at the beginning of my lifelong record collecting habit.

I was 12 years old, and I bought two very super cool hip cassettes: The J Geils Band "Freeze Frame" & Foreigner "4."

We weren't quite rich enough to afford a Walkman, but I did have my own tape recorder and some headphones, and knowing that we'd be spending close to 50 hours in the car together, I made sure to pack them.

It was 1981 and we were making our BIG first family trip, in the blue station wagon, to Disneyworld.

If you've ever driven the East Coast, you have probably spent a large portion of the trip spinning the dial, looking for some kind of consensus music that will satisfy the musical needs of the travelers.

(Yes, this story is so old, that I am mentioning things that barely exist anymore: station wagons, tape recorders and non-digital radio dials that actually need to be spun to be tuned)

By somewhere in Maryland, Dad was ready to try a change. He asked if what I had for my tape recorder.

I looked at the J. Geils tape. Would a song about a high school crush becoming a Playboy Centerfold pass parental muster? Uh, probably not. I passed Foreigner "4" forward.

The tracks were generically rocking enough that we were all tapping along as we made our way down 95. But there was actually some interest when "Waiting For A Girl Like You" came up. Even Mom could overtly like this one.

When the cassette finished, Dad popped it out, and to our surprise, "Waiting For A Girl Like You" was the first song that came up on the next local station we found.

And when that station faded and we picked up another, it was in short order that "Waiting For A Girl Like You" rang out again.

By this time, it was practically a game. We'd try to catch the song in each state we passed through. And we listened to the cassette a couple more times, too.

Between the trip down and the trip back, we heard the tune a couple dozen times. And even today, if by chance someone in the family hears that song, we immediately recall that trip to Florida.

I had this story on the brain, because my wife and I are taking the kids to Florida next week. And now, as a parent, I realized all the sacrifice and savings and planning that go into making a major family trip and I wonder and worry:

30 years later, will my kids mostly just remember a song they heard on the radio?


*fun fact: Thomas Dolby (not yet famous for "She Blinded Me With Science") is the playing the keyboard on this!

The Hold Steady "Hurricane J"

I wasn't crazy about my name, "PJ," when I was a kid.

For one thing, people would always get it wrong. BJ, AJ, etc.

They'd always try to guess what it stood for. "Picklebarrel Juicebar?" No.

And if I went to Disneyworld, there was never a bike license plate with "PJ" on it. Sure, my sisters Julie and Amy could easily find personalized Mickey Mouse ears or a pencil set bearing there name. But no such luck for PJ.

The Romper Room lady would always call out to my friends like Brian and Elizabeth and David and Christine, and every day I'd watch her look through that magic mirror and wait in vain for her to call my name.

And never, ever, in my forty-plus years, have I heard a song about PJ.

There are songs for Alison and Barbara and George and Jane, but never for PJ.

At least, as a DJ, I can pass on the love, when a song comes around with your name in it.

So to the several Jessie's I know (and I'll count you, Jess Phaneuf), here's a song with your name in it from The Hold Steady. Enjoy!



Buy the album, here

Songs featuring the names of people mentioned in this post:




And no, she still hasn't said my name