February 16, 2009 Earworm

Wow...
I learned that I'm surrounded by quite a few bah humbuggers this Valentine's Day. I'm not sure which is worse: those in a relationship who shrug the whole thing off or those who are single. While I'm not big on the grand statements suggested by advertisements, I've never been one to shy away from the chance to give/receive inexpensive sentiment sheathed in vivid red with a side of chocolate. Call me easy.



While running out to pick a card for my own personal heart holder, I planned to listen to Ultra Vivid Scene during the drive but accidentally pulled Tracey Ullman's "You Broke My Heart In Seventeen Places". Thinking, "Why not?", I went with it. As with most pastiche, the album hasn't aged well but it does have it's moments and one of them is "They Don't Know". Tracey's singing career was more of a lark - hilariously documented in her "Live And Exposed" show from 2005 - but the choice of Kirsty MacColl's "They Don't Know" as her second single - following the surprise success of her debut, an almost serious cover of "Breakway" with a high camp video that was still being played at The Hippo two years ago - showed a sense of savvy on someone's part. MacColl's own version was released by Stiff four years earlier and gained substantial UK airplay but, due to a distributors strike that hindered the record making it into stores, failed to chart. Not the type to hold a grudge, Kirsty can be heard on background vocals on Tracey's version.

The difference between the two records is striking: Kirsty's version sounds as though she will ignore the words of her friends but knows the whole thing will end in tears while Tracey - taking tongue out of cheek - actually sounds as though she believes that her fantasies will come true. Although Tracey's record is obviously routed in nostalgia - synthetic bells recall "Chapel Of Love" and castanets conjure Spector - it's second hand nostalgia as though channeled through a revival of "Grease" and somehow comes across as thoroughly modern for its time. Its time, of course, was steeped in retro deconstruction.

"They Don't Know" holds a special place in my heart as the closing song for nights spent dancing ourselves silly, closing the bar and packing too many teenage boys and girls into a car for a race to Baltimore's Block for hot dogs and then stopping into the seedy magazine stores to pack ourselves into booths to laugh at the peepshow porn offered for twenty-five cents a pop until the owners threw us out. An ever present mix tape would be fast forwarded to the song as we approached Mt. Vernon and we would fall out at the driver's apartment door to dance our last dance before drifting off to our respective beds and our own romantic dreams.

August 01, 2008 Earworm

To celebrate the art of multi-tasking I'm closing out the work week while opening a new month in a way that has kept me giggling all morning. I will not be alone in the task because the sound you are about to hear will be a thud followed by two squishy rolling splats when Kmatt's jaw hits the desk and her eyes roll clear off her head at the mention of a song she's probably not thought of in almost twenty years and probably hoped she'd never hear again: "A Zillion Kisses" by Tommy Page.

Pretty Boy Page stepped out of the coat closet of Nell's armed with a demo tape that he brazenly handed the house dj. The dj, probably impressed with the sixteen year old's pluck - he probably loved pluck - began playing Tommy's tracks which caught the ear of producer Mark Kamins who forced the hand of Sire Records' honcho, Seymour Stein who, betting that he had the male answer to Debbie Gibson, signed Tommy. The song that started it all, "Really Turning Me On", didn't stir the public so the free styling "A Zillion Kisses" got the nod, a video that showed just how awkward the now eighteen year old could be in front of a camera, and a wicked remix that inexplicably came packaged in Sire's generic 12" sleeve. Delighted by the title, I shelled out a buck for a promo copy knowing nothing about it. Much dancing occurred after the initial sugar shock and "A Zillion Kisses" would eventually become a part of the soundtrack to the ritual of prettying up for a night on the town which just seemed right considering the depth to be found in all three experiences.

Sugar highs inevitably fade and it had been a long time since I have given any thought to this song or to Tommy Page so it took a few minutes to place the tune I found myself humming as I washed the dog bowls this morning. When I found that I actually had Tommy's debut on cd - and his second!, tucked right beside another teeny popper with a short shelf life - Jennifer Paige, I was shocked but not nearly as much as I was when I discovered that both Tommy's first and second album are still in print.

After finally getting some hits - #29 with"A Shoulder To Cry On" in '89, and the #1 (and New Kids on the Block associated) "I'll Be Your Everything" in 1990 - Tommy couldn't keep up the chart momentum yet carried a fan base strong enough to support seven albums in a twelve year span. He is still in the music business, producing acts like "High School Musical" star Ashley Tisdale, obviously not straying far from his humble beginnings. Meanwhile, here I am twenty years later with a mean case of the giggles as I play this disposable ditty over and over...