Tripping Daisy "I Got A Girl"

Here's another Weekend Post:

The grammar nerd in me always got stuck on the line, "She smells so sweetly."

If she smells "sweetly," it doesn't mean you like her aroma, it means that when she tries to sniff something, she does it in a sweet way.

And that's just absurd. (Unlike the rest of the song, which makes perfect sense)





Weekend posts are a chance to revisit songs that have happy memories, not of anything in particular, other than just hearing the tunes.

Many of these songs were tracks that I played during my 90s stint as an Alternative/Modern Rock radio show. They're tunes that I hardly hear these days, but are wonderful to revisit.

Click on the "Weekend Posts" label below, to see other posts like this.

Paul Simon "Getting Ready For Christmas Day"

What do Irving Berlin, Johnny Marks, Jule Styne & Sammy Cahn, Jay Livingston & Ray Evans, Mel Torme & Bob Wells, Buck Ram & Kim Gannon & Walter Kent, Joan Javits, Felix Bernard, Mitchell Parish, George Wyle, Philip Springer & Fred Ebb all have in common?

They all wrote Christmas songs, but didn't celebrate Christmas.

That's right, the following Christmas carols were penned by Jewish songwriters:

"White Christmas"
"Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer"
"Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree"
"A Holly Jolly Christmas"
"Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!"
"Silver Bells"
"The Christmas Song"
"I'll Be Home for Christmas"
"Santa Baby"
"Winter Wonderland"
"Sleigh Ride"
"It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year"
(see below, for full songwriting credits)

How about Bob Dylan, Neil Diamond, Barbra Streisand, Harry Connick Jr., Phil Spector, Carole King, Barry Manilow and Bette Midler? What do they have in common?

That's right, they're all Jewish, and they've all recorded Christmas albums.

What am I getting at?

Nothing. I just didn't want you to be surprised to find out that Paul Simon, who is Jewish, has a new song out called "Getting Ready For Christmas Day."

Happy Hanukkah!


Hear a dozen of the songs mentioned in this post:





Irving Berlin, "White Christmas"
Johnny Marks, "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer"
Johnny Marks, "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree"
Johnny Marks, "A Holly Jolly Christmas"
Jule Styne & Sammy Cahn "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!"
Jay Livingston & Ray Evans "Silver Bells"
Mel Torme & Bob Wells "The Christmas Song"
Buck Ram & Walter Kent (also Kim Gannon) "I'll Be Home for Christmas"
Joan Javits & Fred Ebb (also Philip Springer) "Santa Baby"
Felix Bernard (also Richard B. Smith) "Winter Wonderland"
Mitchell Parish, "Sleigh Ride"
George Wyle (also Edward Pola), "It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year"

Thank you to these several sites for information in this post.

John Gorka "Good Noise"

We'd had some words.

Not profane or incendiary, mind you, but unpleasant nonetheless.

It was the kind of uncomfortable exchange between a manager(me) and a staffer, that starts with a legitimate bone to pick, and somehow, unexpectedly devolves into some sarcastic unpleasantness.

We'd walked away, both vowing to return to the subject the following day.

So I was bracing myself for the conversation, sitting in the mvy studio, watching the clock tick closer to our meeting time.

I was ready to apologize for being flip---that was unprofessional. But I was also ready to call her out for taking the conversation on a negative turn, just because she wasn't getting her way.

She, of course, surprised me, with an apology of her own.

"I really believe in that song 'Good Noise,'" she said, referencing a song I'd played earlier in the afternoon. "If you've got nothing good to say . . ." you shouldn't say anything.

"Did you hear that on the way in to the studio?" I asked.

"Hear what?"

"Hear me play 'Good Noise.'"

"No. Did you just play that?"

I had.

Karma? Coincidence? Luck? Cosmic confluence? Plate of shrimp?

It was a little weird, but it reinforced that it's the right move, to make a Good Noise.

A positive message has a ripple effect, I guess.

Decemberists "Down By The Water"

You can practically hear the relieved sighing of record promotions folks on this new Decemberists track.

After a huge breakthrough with "The Crane Wife," I'm sure the people who had spent years working to spread the word of this excellent band were hoping for the continued ascent of this rising band's profile when they released a follow up.

Instead they got "The Hazards Of Love."

I wrote a little about my feelings on the album, last year.

No doubt, "Hazards" is the work of a brilliant mind. And the shear balls it took to even contemplate an endeavor such as a rock opera about a woman who falls in love with a shape-shifting forest dweller, his jealous mother and an infanticide-prone lover, must be commended, by any lover of challenging art.

But for those who might be a lover (or needer) of commerce, the word "Rock Opera" is still, pretty much, poison.

So how nice, for my friends in the record community, who have delivered "Down By The Water" to radio, giddily letting us know that this new Decemberists album is just a collection of rock songs, and there is no playbill or libretto necessary.

Pratt & McClain "The Theme to Happy Days"

Many, many years ago, probably around high school/college age, when I was being asked incessantly, "What are you going to study?" "What's your major?" "What are you going to do for work?" I started to retrofit an answer.

I didn't think so much about what job I wanted to have, as much as I began thinking about how a job would integrate into an already existing vision of myself. What kind of job would fit that?

What kind of job would provide some structure, but some creativity? More importantly, in what job could talk like I talk, and dress like I dress?

Yeah, being a t-shirt and jeans guy, the dressing thing was really important to me. I just wasn't going to do a job where I had to put on a tie every day. In a suit, I looked so unlike myself, I might as well put on a pirate costume.

PJ in Suit = Halloween (and is as scary).

I can't tell you for sure that this aversion to natty attire is genetic. But I would bet that there are a few high school friends who can attest to the fact that my Dad, a high school math teacher, wasn't pulling off the plaid pants and v-neck sweater, as well as he thought he might be.

For sure, the refusal to dress up was present in childhood. Mom, I'm sure, remembers more than a couple of epic battles to get me dressed for the holidays.

And if you need proof, please enjoy this photo, recently unearthed during a fruitful trip into the depths of my garage.

The picture is from my sister Amy's Christening at St. Louis' Catholic Church in Newburyport.

My Mom had picked out a little jacket and clip-on tie that she'd tried to forcibly put on me a couple of times. I think it was probably when I whipped the jacket into the hallway, she just shouted, "Fine!!! Wear whatever the Hell you want!!!"

In the picture, clockwise, is Uncle Joe (Godfather), rocking the mustache; my Mom, holding my baby sister; Father Brian; Aunt Joan (Godmother); my sister Julie, who gladly wore her cute white sweater and pink shirt with ribbons in her hair; and me.

I was 8. There was no one cooler than The Fonz. And HE certainly didn't wear a clip-on tie. No, he wore t-shirts. If I was ever going to be as cool as The Fonz, I'd better start dressing like him, was my logic.

Thank you to the good folks at Polaroid for making it possible for this moment to preserved throughout time.

Happy Days, indeed.



If you had the theme song on 45, well, you still probably don't remember the B side, "Cruisin' With The Fonz."

Norah Jones "Dear John"

Traditionally, the poor and the outsiders innovate. The establishment co-opts, then eventually ruins the form.

So I've been curious to watch large companies navigate the modern world of promotion, with viral marketing and social media and such. If they appropriate guerrilla techniques, will they use them wisely, or will they sing the tone-deaf note of crass cash grabs.

Not surprisingly, Norah Jones (and the people behind her) navigate this field with an appropriate amount of taste and restraint.

For her new album "Featuring" which compiles tracks of collaboration from throughout her career, her label has produced a short interview piece for each of the tracks on the record.

They're informative, and they make good use of the $$$ behind them with good production values and editing to make something interesting, that makes me want to listen more.

Listen to how engaging Ryan Adams can be, as he compares his writing style to Norah's, and explains who the two styles met and succeeded.

Nice work!

Presidents Of The United States Of America "Kick Out The Jams"

Here's another Weekend Post:

I'm always wondered what the MC5---who originally did the song and wielded it like a weapon---thought of this fluffy cover of their song.





Weekend posts are a chance to revisit songs that have happy memories, not of anything in particular, other than just hearing the tunes.

Many of these songs were tracks that I played during my 90s stint as an Alternative/Modern Rock radio show. They're tunes that I hardly hear these days, but are wonderful to revisit.

Click on the "Weekend Posts" label below, to see other posts like this.

Hayden "Bad As They Seem"

Here's another Weekend Post:

I suppose we've all had some age-inappropriate crushes---I can think of a few friends who had a "Stacy's Mom."

This song got the angst of that kind of crush right, though I was always creeped out by the reverse age crush. "She is only 16" is only okay, if you're 17.



Weekend posts are a chance to revisit songs that have happy memories, not of anything in particular, other than just hearing the tunes.

Many of these songs were tracks that I played during my 90s stint as an Alternative/Modern Rock radio show. They're tunes that I hardly hear these days, but are wonderful to revisit.

Click on the "Weekend Posts" label below, to see other posts like this.

Black Grape "Get Higher"

It's clear, but ironic.

As a rule, the station doesn't take a political position on any topic. The DJs aren't supposed to expound on why they are for or against a particular cause.

The reasoning is two-fold. One, is that the station has listeners who sit in all parts of the political spectrum. And if you take a political position on the air, undoubtedly, while half the audience is shaking its head Hell Yes, the other half is either yelling at the speakers, or just turning you off. It's not the experience a music-oriented stations wants its listeners to have.

The other reason is one that many folks listening to mvy, are listening to mvy. They're not listening to PJ or Barbara or Laurel. So if I go on the air and say, "I think this new law stinks!" while some listeners will hear that as PJ's Opinion, for a whole chunk of listeners, that will register as MVY's Opinion. An individual taking a position on the air, is representing all of us on mvyradio. So if they take a position it better represent all of us DJs, and the station ownership, too.

Best to leave politics to Talk Radio, and just focus on the music.

Therein lies the irony.

Is there anything more political than Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's "Ohio"? Or JJ Cale's "The Problem"? Or Jackson Browne's "Lives In The Balance"? Or Grace Potter's "Ah Mary"? Or, an of about 400 songs we play on mvyradio?

Rock And Roll is rife with politics. Every other song we play seems to take a bold position.

How can R.E.M. rage about a "Teflon whitewashed presidency" and sing "We're sick of being jerked around," without raising a hackle. But if a DJ said this, it would register in a completely different way?

Ironic, I say.

So let me conclude with a nice bit of irony.

During the recent election, there were a few marijuana-related ballot questions, everywhere from this island off the East Coast to California. And one of my friends, in support of California's Proposition 19, posted an old clip from Night Flight on his Facebook page. Which reminded me that the clip had been appropriated by the band Black Grape in the 90s.

Enjoy the irony!

Keb Mo "Every Morning"

I got dumped by this girl.

We hadn’t been dating very long, and I thought things were going just fine. But then I kind of got a whiff that something wasn’t right, from her perspective.

So I can’t say I was really surprised that I was suddenly getting the “It’s Not You, It’s Me” speech.

Fine. Or at least, at another time in my life, it would have been fine.

But it had been a really hard year.

My Uncle had died suddenly earlier in the year. My sister was battling cancer. A huge rift had opened up between myself and my 2 closest friends. And in the last week, my Aunt had died suddenly. I was pretty new on the Vineyard. It was winter. I didn't have to many friends.

So I was in a pretty low, low place, all that cumulative weight on my shoulders. And I took getting dropped much harder then, than was maybe warranted.

I had to get out of the apartment. I’d been there for days, shut in by the cold, cold Vineyard off-season and my own depression.

I was broke, too, of course. But I scraped together a handful of bucks and took myself to a discount Tuesday matinee.

To see the feel good movie of the year: “Fahrenheit 9-11.”

What was I thinking?

More depressed than ever, I decided that I should walk down the street to my regular pub, and have a beer. And maybe feel the warm embrace of other Islanders who needed a drink on a rainy winter Tuesday.

You don’t need to be a screenwriter to guess who was down the far end of the bar.

I waved to her. It was the polite and friendly thing to do. And I stayed and drank my beer instead of running out the front door. It was the non-chicken-shit thing to do.

But, unshaven, unshowered and pale, mole-eyed from sitting in the dark theater, I didn’t think I could feel too much worse. I certainly looked about as terrible, as unkempt, as disheveled as I can ever recall being.

So the only way out, was up.

I walked up the street to one of the upscale restaurants. They had an upstairs bar. And it was early enough in the night that it was virtually empty. Just me and the bartender.

I had a credit card that was about 50 bucks short of maxed out. So what’s an extra 50 bucks?

I got a big, not-too-greasy-but-just-greasy-enough Cuban pork sandwich and fries and a few beers.

It is the one and only time in my life that I recall telling my troubles to a bartender, who took pity me, while I unpacked some baggage.

“What are we listening to?” I asked him, as the cd that had been playing, looped back to the first track.

“Keb Mo. His first record.”

“I like it,” I responded positively, determined to go in the only direction left.

Up.