You Take My Breath Away!

Remember the name Rex Smith? If you don’t, I’m not surprised. Rex Smith was sort of a teen idol back in the late 70s, having really only one hit song, the romantic ballad You Take My Breath Away, which briefly hit the top ten in 1979. I collected 45 hit singles back then, and I remember Smith’s glossy black and white headshot on the front of the record’s dust cover.

Anyway, I have to admit – although I really don’t want to! – I kind of liked the song when it came out. (I guess I’m just a sucker for a whiny ballad.) These days, however, I can’t for the life of me remember why I liked the song – in fact, when I hear it now (it’s frequently played on the Sirius/XM Jukebox of Cheese) I think, “What a piece of useless fluff! How could I possibly have liked that song?”

Back in 1979, though, I liked the song well enough to actually write an arrangement of it for the wedding band I played in at the time – a band I like to refer to as “Four White Guys in Ruffled Shirts and Cheesy Tuxedoes.” I grimace now when I think about some young newlywed couple taking their spot on the dance floor for that very special first dance, and me seated behind my drum set crooning out lyrics like, “You, you smile and it’s okay; I don’t know what to say; you take my breath away; you take my breath a-waaaaay!” Yikes!

Rex Smith did go on to achieve some success in his career, including a platinum-selling album, Sooner or Later, acting roles on and off Broadway, and guest appearances on TV shows like The Love Boat, Baywatch, and As the World Turns. Clearly, the guy has some talent.

When all is said and done, Rex Smith’s You Take My Breath Away ranks right up there with other schlocky classics of the era, like John Travolta’s Let Her In (1976), Kenny Nolan’s I Like Dreamin’ (1977), and Dr. Hook’s Sharing’ the Night Together (1978) – all of which, at the time, I also thought were pretty good tunes. What was I thinking?

Whistle a Happy Tune!

I don’t hear very much whistling in pop music. I wonder why that is. I guess it has to do with the fact that it’s hard to whistle well, and that there’s a fine line between really good whistling (you know, whistling with a nice tone and just the right amount of vibrato) and really bad whistling (that is, whistling characterized by the combination of a shrill tone and a vibrato you could drive a truck through – a style I not-so-respectfully refer to as “old man” whistling).

When I think back to the music of my youth, two songs featuring someone whistling come to mind: Georgy Girl and Sittin’ On The Dock of the Bay. It also occurs to me that while the whistling used in both these songs helps establish an upbeat and carefree kind of mood, at the same time that mood sits in stark contrast to the overall depressing theme of the songs themselves.

The song Georgy Girl was made popular by The Seekers back in 1962. And even though I was only five years old at the time, I remember hearing it on the radio with its bubbly, bouncy, four-bar whistling introduction and thinking, “Boy, that’s kind of different. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody whistling on a pop tune before! That sounds sort of fun and happy!” But then, despite its cheery introduction, the song goes on to describe a depressed and lonely young girl who lives in a dream world and runs away from reality. The lyrics even urge Georgy “not to be scared of changing,” and to “jump down from the shelf a little bit.” (I have to wonder if it’s ever a good idea to tell a depressed person to go find something to jump off of! Yikes!) Then, to make matters even worse, the words of the last verse encourage her to look for “another Georgy deep down inside” – suggesting that not only is this poor girl depressed, but apparently she also suffers from what’s known clinically as dissociative identity disorder, (a.k.a multiple personalities). Oh well, so much for my happy, cheery, bouncing little song. It’s sort of a downer, actually.

In Otis Redding’s Sittin’ On The Dock of the Bay (1968), the whistling comes at the end of the song – and as the music fades out softly and slowly, the listener can imagine Otis rising from his seat on the dock, and happily and contentedly strolling off down some little road that runs along the bay. And that would be a great image, except for the fact that the lyrics speak of a man who, among other things, feels like “nothing’s gonna come my way,” “has nothing to live for,” suffers from a “loneliness that won’t leave me alone,” and is pathetically prepared to spend the rest of his wretched life “wasting time.” Wow! So much for the image of him happily strolling off into the sunset!

Hey, whatever happened to whistling a happy tune?

Woman Woman!

My mother loved the music of Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, especially the song Woman Woman, which hit the charts in November of 1967. I remember her buying the 45 rpm single, and then playing it repeatedly (and literally ad nauseum!) on our family’s Sylvania stereo system, which enjoyed a place of prominence in our living room. (Stereo record players were still quite a novelty back then!)

As you probably know, Gary Puckett is the artist who brought us at least two other great hits: Young Girl and This Girl is a Woman Now – two songs that go wonderfully hand in hand, and together suggest that while it’s inappropriate for a man to pursue a young girl (as it most certainly is – even if she has led him to believe she’s “old enough to give him love”), once that young girl becomes a woman, well, she’s pretty much fair game for just about any middle-aged pop singer who comes down the pike dressed in a Union civil war uniform with a desire to “change her world.”

Yet, I digress. As I think back on my mother playing that record, Woman Woman, I find myself now, years later, wondering, What was my mom thinking? And, more to the point, just what was there about those lyrics that was so exciting to her? The song is, after all, about a woman who has “cheating on her mind,” and who Puckett describes as having “a certain look when she is on the move.” Did those lyrics express some secret fantasy my mother harbored in her own mind? Could my mother have had cheating on her mind? Yikes! Not my mom! And gosh, could it be I was blind to the fact that she wore some certain look when she was on the move? Eek, I don’t even want to go there!

Of course, it is possible (and, in fact, likely), that maybe my mom just simply liked the song – you know, like it had a good beat and you could dance to it – and that there were no other thoughts on her mind… er…well, you know what I mean.

Thoughts? Comments?

James Brown and Gordon Lightfoot

So, what do James Brown’s Sex Machine and Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald have in common? Give up? Not even a guess? Well, they’re absolutely two of the most repetitive, monotonous (not literally, but almost), banal and boring songs I’ve ever heard! I listened to them back-to-back on the radio the other day, and I could hardly stand it.

For starters, Brown’s Sex Machine (or, more accurately, Get Up (I Feel Like Being A) Sex Machine – a much better title, ya think?) uses the same one chord guitar lick over and over again (126 times to be exact!) – taking a break only to insert a 16-bar bridge in the middle of the song, which, frankly, is terribly monotonous, as well. Worse still, are the lyrics, which pretty much consist of Brown repeating ad nauseam the phrase, “Get up… stay on the scene… like a sex machine.” (In true James Brown fashion, of course, this is pronounced Get up-uh! Stay on the scene-uh! Like a sex machine-uh!) Finally, to make matters even worse, the song goes on for over five minutes, causing the monotony to stretch into what seems like an eternity! Argh!

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love James Brown – and songs like Hot Pants, Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag and Living in America – all great tunes. In fact, when I was a teenager the song I Feel Good was one of my favorites. (Still is, by the way!) But Sex Machine, well, not so much.

I like Gordon Lightfoot, too, and without a doubt hits like If You Could Read My Mind and Sundown are classics. But I’ve wondered for years why in The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald he had to shove essentially the same eight bars down our throats for six and a half minutes, without at least a little variation. (Okay, there’s a little interlude in there, but that doesn’t count any more than the bridge in Sex Machine!) Maybe instead of concentrating on the music, Lightfoot was focusing all his compositional energies on creating intriguing rhymes like “…when the skies of November turn gloomy” and “...the big lake they call Gitchee Gumee.” That might explain it.

I don’t know… Do you think I’m being too hard on these guys? Leave a comment!

What Were You Thinking, Paul Anka?

I cringe a little bit every time Paul Anka's song You're Having My Baby comes on the radio. In fact, I find the lyrics so offensive I want to call Mr. Anka on the phone and ask him that great Dr. Phil question, "What were you thinkin?"

I mean, how in the world, even in the not-so-politically-correct era of the mid-70s, could he possibly have thought that referring to the child his wife was carrying as "my baby" might not be offensive to -- oh, let's think about it for just a second... -- just about EVERYBODY? And since the words might be offensive especially to women (ya think?), and since my guess is that most of his previous hits were purchased by female fans, I wonder, again, how could he possibly have made such a blunder?

Let's look at some of the more poignant lines in the song. You're having my baby. What a lovely way of saying how much you love me. Well, you know, call me overly critical, but the line seems just a tad on the self indulgent side. But then again, maybe that's just me.

Or, how about this one? The seed inside you, can you feel it growing? Lovely thought, perhaps. But, I don't know, a bit too agricultural, I think.

And let's not forget the most memorable line in the entire song. Didn't have to keep it, wouldn't put you through it. You could have swept it from your life but you wouldn't do it. That's wrong on so many levels, I don't even know where to begin!

I guess in all fairness we have to bear in mind that You're Having My Baby was written by the same songwriter who brought us other such classics as I Don't Like to Sleep Alone and Puppy Love. So hey, what else is there to say?

Truth be told, after the song You're Having My Baby was released (and after receiving far more criticism than he counted on!), Paul Anka apologized publicly for his insensitivity, and even altered the title and the words to read You're Having Our Baby.

Nice try, Paul. Ever hear of the song Too Much, Too Little, Too Late?

Dentist Office Music

My day started this morning with a trip to the dentist's office. And it’s not that I really enjoy going to the dentist, but I love going to this dentist because he has a state-of-the-art Bose sound system, which pumps into each of the rooms music from Sirius/XM radio – specifically channel 3, which plays “love” songs.

Nothing wrong with that – in fact, I think it’s pretty cool. But what was a little odd this morning was that while the hygienist was cleaning my teeth, on comes Marvin Gaye‘s Sexual Healing. Not a bad song, but it seemed a little weird (out of place, perhaps) to have that tune playing while I’m sitting back in the dentist's chair, wearing a bib, and having a hook shaped device suck spit out of my mouth. Not to mention the fact that there was just something strange about hearing Marvin sing, “Baby I'm hot just like an oven, and I need some lovin',” while the hygienist, adorned in face mask and rubber gloves, scraped six months worth of plaque and tartar from my teeth.
Yuck!

Okay, weird enough. But then the next song comes on and it’s Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers. Of course, my mind goes right to an image of Demi Moore in the movie Ghost. But suffice it to say, the hygienist was not Demi Moore wearing casual jeans and t-shirt, and my teeth were not a mound of clay on a potter’s wheel. Oh, well. Good image while it lasted!

Finally, as if all of this wasn’t troubling enough, these two songs were followed by The Captain and Tennille’s Muskrat Love – without a doubt one of the 10 worst songs ever written. (A co-worker pointed out to me that the song was also recorded by America, which really sort of bums me out, because I like all of America’s other stuff.) But come on! “He's ticklin' her fancy, rubbin' her toes. Muzzle to muzzle, now anything goes.” Oh, please!

Anyway, it was an interesting morning at the dentist's office, and, when all was said and done, I left with clean teeth, no cavities, and a new tooth brush. Not a bad way to start the day.

Alone Again, Naturally!

So, I'm driving north on I-81 in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley yesterday morning, enjoying the magnificent fall scenery and feeling on top of the world, when Gilbert O'Sullivan's Alone Again, Naturally pops up on Sirius 7. And wow, what a mood breaker!

This is a song about a guy who is stood up at the altar, whose father dies at way too young an age, and whose mother then kicks the bucket after a terrible round of depression. After all this -- and after three verses of lamenting his past -- this poor soul pretty much finds himself with no reason for living, and, as the title describes, all alone. Not exactly uplifting stuff! In fact, this song makes Janis Ian's At Seventeen seem like the theme song for a Tony Robbins seminar! With the possible exception of The Cavaliers' Last Kiss (a song about a boy who lost his girlfriend in a tragic car accident -- you know: screaming tires, busting glass, and all that sort of stuff), this is the most depressing song I've ever heard!

Okay, I know. Not every song needs to be cheerful and uplifting. I get that. In fact, the music world would be pretty boring if that were the case. It's just that a song like this is not what I want to hear on a beautiful, sunny morning when I'm feeling really charged up and ready to rock and roll, ya know? Sure, I could change channels, but I like my 70s stuff. So, what's a guy supposed to do? Grin and bear it, I guess, and wait for the next song.

Which is what I did. And just what song came up next? Believe it or not it was The Carpenters' Top of the World. How's that for timing? "Now we're cookin'," I thought. That is, until I started thinking about Karen Carpenter and her tragic fate! Oh my goodness!

Time to switch to the 80s channel.