As long as human beings have lived in communities, there have always been what we've colloquially (and not endearingly) called "freaks." From the village idiot to the court fool, from the afflicted to the deranged, these poor, misbegotten creatures have been the spectacles that drew mixed amounts of fascination, merriment and scorn.
P.T. Barnum made a fortune trotting out what were then called pinheads, bearded ladies, limbless souls, Siamese twins, all for perusal, derision, revulsion, and the almighty buck.
Society has advanced, thank God. The damaged among us are protected from exploitation by law and the evolution of our thinking. This does not mean our thirst for "freaks" has abated. Not a chance. Not as long as there are celebrities, and as long as money can be made exploiting their human condition.
Cases in point: One Carlos Estevez, AKA Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, and the beauteous train-wreck-to-be named Christina Aguilera.
How is watching Charlie Sheen' s recent media blitz any different than answering the call of the Carnival Barker a hundred years ago, paying ten cents, and gaping at the Elephant Man? If Charlie weren't a wealthy, famous celebrity, we'd refer to him as that loadie, that perve, or, more kindly, "...that eccentric guy down the street with two broads. " We'd say he's crazy. We'd say he needs help. Since he's Charlie, most of us just watch the meltdown like the TV show it is, and wait for the pay-off. And once it happens, and Sheen disappears into either treatment or the abyss, our curiosity will take us somewhere else. Our curiosity--aided and abetted by the breathless reporting on all forms of media.
Should we feel remorse for our voyeurism? Should we point out that in the 1800's, families used to pack a picnic lunch to attend hangings? Is it our responsibility to police our primal urge to leer at the less fortunate, or that of the modern day P.T. Barnums of our world to sacrifice ratings, internet hits, and the priceless word of mouth gained by keeping Charlie's public pain in our faces?
He's hard to miss. There's a quote that describes Sheen's ubiquitousness over these last few days. It's what the late New York Yankee manager Ralph Houk said to a then-unknown sports reporter named Howard Cosell, in 1961: "You're like shit--you're everywhere." In this case, it's both Charlie, those willing to exploit him, and those of us eager to watch, that are everywhere... and feeling shitty about it.
Unlike Barnum's Freaks, some celebrities learn to make the exploitation work for them. Fifty years ago, Lindsay Lohan would have been disgraced and treated as radioactive. Today? Well, no, she can't land an acting job, but her perp-walks into court are carried live on local TV stations and cable networks. Can a young woman get the help she needs if she knows it will result in less attention?
Britney Spears has been largely off the radar since her celebrated breakdown. It's hard to forget, though, that she'd lost it, grabbed a pair of clippers and turned herself into Curly from the Three Stooges, a few years ago. At the time, her former Mickey Mouse Club mate, Christina Aguilera, shook her head and offered platitudes about Britney's behavior.
Judge not lest ye be judged, right? A few years have passed, and now it's Christina screaming for help--and a lot more distinctly than she sang the national anthem!
Miss Aguilera's is a case that draws our focus more sharply because she is so incredibly beautiful, and blessed with a voice that can make buildings shake. Sadly, Christina's public problems have been pushing on her fault-lines in wait of a quake. If her singing rattles buildings, her probable meltdown will make the structures tumble.
This is a woman gifted as a young child, who witnessed an abusive father in action, and took the bullying of classmates jealous of her precocious talent. This is personal baggage that gets unloaded publicly when fame and fortune manifest themselves. The results are predictable--young, lithe, pretty beyond reason, she was drawn to (and exploited by) older guys who could administer the maintenance she demanded--the maintenance that made her (according to a long list of people who've dealt with her) very difficult to work with.
You could see it in the succession of albums. Then the "Dirrty" video, the metal studs marring a face with porcelain features; marriage, a baby...the tabloid tidbits about wild sexual appetites...divorce, a new boyfriend not nearly as rich and famous as she was, and then the drinking. The drinking presaged the fiasco with the national anthem at the Super Bowl, the copious weight gain, and the tumble taken at the Grammy Awards.
Her now legendary difficulty has made it impossible for many to feel empathy. And it is only the antics of Charlie Sheen that have kept her arrest Tuesday morning from becoming a more full blown media event. The L.A. County Sheriff's Department only took her into custody for the night because they'd arrested her boyfriend on a DUI, and she was just too incapacitated to move.
Too drunk to take care of herself. Screwing up "The Star Spangled Banner" is one thing, a reason to snicker at her and view as just desserts for her being a difficult person. Drinking oneself into imbecility, however, doesn't happen without reason.
We'll watch, we'll behold, and cluck our tongues. Most of us will find within us the hope that Christina, Charlie and Lindsay will eventually entertain us with their talent, again...and not their desperation. It is a faustian bargain, the quest for fame.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK...
The results are in. It should be no surprise that the question I posed in the previous post produced exactly the results I expected.
Question: Do you still like humor in the presentation of your favorite songs on the radio? No scientific methods at work, here. No perceptuals, no pollster like Pat Caddell, no equations or word manipulations from a Frank Luntz--just a very informal question with some varied, but like-minded answers. All of them, predictably, in the affirmative. It might well have been informative to find someone who is so addled they don't enjoy humor on the radio, but then I'd have to reach out more to people so distraught they can't conceive of (or handle) anything thing but a morose, funereal presentation of the music. Unless, of course, we are being deceived. That would account for the ratings that keep stations with a "no humor policy" in big business. I suspect, as is the case with questions prepared for a political poll, it's how the query is posed. I'll return to that point after a look at what you have to say.
Radio veterans replied most to my question. George in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley was very brief with his answer: "Funny jocks aren't getting jobs." It's true.
Mark in San Diego left his view in the comments section, here. "As long as it's not drop your pants type humor." In presenting music, I agree. The edgy stuff is more apropos to morning shows, and not necessarily while riffing over a song intro aimed at women ages 25-54.
Kevin in Long Beach has more to say on this, in his comment. Click comments to read it in its entirety. In short, he says the business is in a spiral toward "never ending suicide."
From Brooklyn, New York, Bill writes, "Sure, the wit enhances the presentation. I've known non-radio people who will remember for YEARS a silly crack made by some guy on the air, and the guy who made it. A well-placed zinger in the middle of the formatics goes right to the bulls eye with the guy on the street. Slick programmers [though] have trouble with non-funny [jocks] trying to be funny, and typically overreact to creative content. Of course, the genuinely talented guys on the staff are then unfairly restricted. That problem has to do with the programmer's taste and intelligence...a whole different issue.
"Sure. great radio humor is as important today as ever. Pity, however, the funny performer who's career is controlled by an administrator who is intimidated by the guy's talent. The manner in which that administrator can short-circuit a man's future is decidedly UNfunny."
I've personally found out how true that can be!
Darryl in North County, San Diego, says its a problem throughout the entertainment business: "I'm of the mind that well thought out and clever/intellectual humor MUST be part of any decent broadcast. Station programmer/management types and so called "consultants" have ruined the radio markets with forced and monotonous playlists.
How could they have any idea about what radio audiences want with the inaccurate means of ratings measurement currently in use? Consider, it is they who have conditioned the minds of listeners to the degree of having no taste or actual opinions. The result?
The music industry, in keeping with similar schools of thought, has taken part in stifling true creativity and talent in favor of manufactured, gimmick-laden music, with no lasting or redeeming qualities whatsoever."
Ouch! True...and the subject of another blog at a future date that should inspire some realllly lively conversation!
John in the state of Washington touches on what Bill observed--that an unfunny jock, unlike the proverbial bad apple, can rot the barrel for us all.
"...I'm pretty sure the reason, in regard to radio, that people would say that they don't want to hear humor [in the presentation of music] is because so much of the humor tossed out on the air is bad...'hey, there's a traffic jam on the 405...well, they must be listening to ME...hahhahahahah...' and worse. It's often so bad, that's it's truly embarrassing, and as a listener, you can't help but want to turn the station or put in a CD.
Radio takes ordinary people and makes them think they are instant experts. A guy who used to sell cars gets a radio sales job and becomes an overnight expert on advertising and the song selection of a given format. A former fast-food worker gets an internship which leads to a board op position [one responsible for what's on the air, executes the elements, but doesn't ordinarily open the microphone], then gets to do the weather on air and suddenly they're a comedian. From there they go to work at a talk station, become instant experts on politics, or become part of the morning show on a music station and 'presto,' they're an expert on love relationships...oh...and they are also a comedian...."
Strong opinions, here.
A former programmer tells us radio is slowly squeezing itself into non-relevance by leaving its strengths, as MTV did. His post is here in the comments section, and speaks to the point: It's pretty much up to the programmer to insure that the station (the jocks) compels return visits by listeners...and well-placed humor is a part of the "personality" that makes them come back.
Finally, Dave in Woodland Hills pointed out that because of consolidation, companies have figured out a strategy that makes virtually everything said between (or over) song intros relate to the station, a current contest, or tease of what's coming in the next few minutes. And this should be constant. We've seen this on TV news, when the teases for a particular story about, say, side-effects of mixing Viagra and Flintstone vitamins, will add up to more air time than the actual story itself. To certain programmers, this squeezes humor off the agenda, even though talented jocks could toss off the tease in a very funny way.
All of this input is dead-on. No one wants ill-prepared jocks filling the air with attempts at humor that drives us to hit the seek button on the car radio. Yet declaring humor a felony inappropriately, regardless of what skewed statistics say, goes agin the human grain. Yes humor is subjective, but man has been laughing out loud since the earliest Neanderthal slipped on a banana peel. How hilarious it must have been to see that hairy bastard flying feet first and landing on his arse! I love a story told by author Robert Metz in his 1979 book, The Tonight Show, which chronicled the rise of the NBC show and offered a brief history of comedy's place in our world. In examining the path to be trod by Steve Allen, Jack Paar and Johnny Carson, Metz wrote of the fourteenth century German comic master, Til Eulenspiegel:
"Til was cruel in exercising his wit. In the village of Budenstetten, he was engaged by a parish priest with whom he was constantly in and out of trouble as he practiced his merry pranks--including a gross maneuver which caused the priest to relieve himself during mass. As stage manager of the Easter play, he situated an old foe, the priest's venerable chambermaid, at the tomb of Jesus to play the angel of the Lord. Til and two peasants took the parts of the three Marys. When the chambermaid-angel asked "Whom do you seek?" one of the peasants, on instructions from Eulenspiegel replied, "We are looking for an old, one-eyed concubine belonging to the priest." In the uproar that followed, Til was once more forced to flee."
I wonder how Til Eulenspiegel would have fared presenting music on the radio in 2011? Methinks he'd, once more, be forced to flee.
We love to laugh and make each other laugh. No one, from Captain Bligh to his current day, media counterparts, should forsake us that right--especially over the radio.
Question: Do you still like humor in the presentation of your favorite songs on the radio? No scientific methods at work, here. No perceptuals, no pollster like Pat Caddell, no equations or word manipulations from a Frank Luntz--just a very informal question with some varied, but like-minded answers. All of them, predictably, in the affirmative. It might well have been informative to find someone who is so addled they don't enjoy humor on the radio, but then I'd have to reach out more to people so distraught they can't conceive of (or handle) anything thing but a morose, funereal presentation of the music. Unless, of course, we are being deceived. That would account for the ratings that keep stations with a "no humor policy" in big business. I suspect, as is the case with questions prepared for a political poll, it's how the query is posed. I'll return to that point after a look at what you have to say.
Radio veterans replied most to my question. George in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley was very brief with his answer: "Funny jocks aren't getting jobs." It's true.
Mark in San Diego left his view in the comments section, here. "As long as it's not drop your pants type humor." In presenting music, I agree. The edgy stuff is more apropos to morning shows, and not necessarily while riffing over a song intro aimed at women ages 25-54.
Kevin in Long Beach has more to say on this, in his comment. Click comments to read it in its entirety. In short, he says the business is in a spiral toward "never ending suicide."
From Brooklyn, New York, Bill writes, "Sure, the wit enhances the presentation. I've known non-radio people who will remember for YEARS a silly crack made by some guy on the air, and the guy who made it. A well-placed zinger in the middle of the formatics goes right to the bulls eye with the guy on the street. Slick programmers [though] have trouble with non-funny [jocks] trying to be funny, and typically overreact to creative content. Of course, the genuinely talented guys on the staff are then unfairly restricted. That problem has to do with the programmer's taste and intelligence...a whole different issue.
"Sure. great radio humor is as important today as ever. Pity, however, the funny performer who's career is controlled by an administrator who is intimidated by the guy's talent. The manner in which that administrator can short-circuit a man's future is decidedly UNfunny."
I've personally found out how true that can be!
Darryl in North County, San Diego, says its a problem throughout the entertainment business: "I'm of the mind that well thought out and clever/intellectual humor MUST be part of any decent broadcast. Station programmer/management types and so called "consultants" have ruined the radio markets with forced and monotonous playlists.
How could they have any idea about what radio audiences want with the inaccurate means of ratings measurement currently in use? Consider, it is they who have conditioned the minds of listeners to the degree of having no taste or actual opinions. The result?
The music industry, in keeping with similar schools of thought, has taken part in stifling true creativity and talent in favor of manufactured, gimmick-laden music, with no lasting or redeeming qualities whatsoever."
Ouch! True...and the subject of another blog at a future date that should inspire some realllly lively conversation!
John in the state of Washington touches on what Bill observed--that an unfunny jock, unlike the proverbial bad apple, can rot the barrel for us all.
"...I'm pretty sure the reason, in regard to radio, that people would say that they don't want to hear humor [in the presentation of music] is because so much of the humor tossed out on the air is bad...'hey, there's a traffic jam on the 405...well, they must be listening to ME...hahhahahahah...' and worse. It's often so bad, that's it's truly embarrassing, and as a listener, you can't help but want to turn the station or put in a CD.
Radio takes ordinary people and makes them think they are instant experts. A guy who used to sell cars gets a radio sales job and becomes an overnight expert on advertising and the song selection of a given format. A former fast-food worker gets an internship which leads to a board op position [one responsible for what's on the air, executes the elements, but doesn't ordinarily open the microphone], then gets to do the weather on air and suddenly they're a comedian. From there they go to work at a talk station, become instant experts on politics, or become part of the morning show on a music station and 'presto,' they're an expert on love relationships...oh...and they are also a comedian...."
Strong opinions, here.
A former programmer tells us radio is slowly squeezing itself into non-relevance by leaving its strengths, as MTV did. His post is here in the comments section, and speaks to the point: It's pretty much up to the programmer to insure that the station (the jocks) compels return visits by listeners...and well-placed humor is a part of the "personality" that makes them come back.
Finally, Dave in Woodland Hills pointed out that because of consolidation, companies have figured out a strategy that makes virtually everything said between (or over) song intros relate to the station, a current contest, or tease of what's coming in the next few minutes. And this should be constant. We've seen this on TV news, when the teases for a particular story about, say, side-effects of mixing Viagra and Flintstone vitamins, will add up to more air time than the actual story itself. To certain programmers, this squeezes humor off the agenda, even though talented jocks could toss off the tease in a very funny way.
All of this input is dead-on. No one wants ill-prepared jocks filling the air with attempts at humor that drives us to hit the seek button on the car radio. Yet declaring humor a felony inappropriately, regardless of what skewed statistics say, goes agin the human grain. Yes humor is subjective, but man has been laughing out loud since the earliest Neanderthal slipped on a banana peel. How hilarious it must have been to see that hairy bastard flying feet first and landing on his arse! I love a story told by author Robert Metz in his 1979 book, The Tonight Show, which chronicled the rise of the NBC show and offered a brief history of comedy's place in our world. In examining the path to be trod by Steve Allen, Jack Paar and Johnny Carson, Metz wrote of the fourteenth century German comic master, Til Eulenspiegel:
"Til was cruel in exercising his wit. In the village of Budenstetten, he was engaged by a parish priest with whom he was constantly in and out of trouble as he practiced his merry pranks--including a gross maneuver which caused the priest to relieve himself during mass. As stage manager of the Easter play, he situated an old foe, the priest's venerable chambermaid, at the tomb of Jesus to play the angel of the Lord. Til and two peasants took the parts of the three Marys. When the chambermaid-angel asked "Whom do you seek?" one of the peasants, on instructions from Eulenspiegel replied, "We are looking for an old, one-eyed concubine belonging to the priest." In the uproar that followed, Til was once more forced to flee."
I wonder how Til Eulenspiegel would have fared presenting music on the radio in 2011? Methinks he'd, once more, be forced to flee.
We love to laugh and make each other laugh. No one, from Captain Bligh to his current day, media counterparts, should forsake us that right--especially over the radio.
Monday, February 7, 2011
ANSWER ME THIS...
I've had a thousand thoughts and opinions rumble through my head since I last updated this blog. It is true, I probably won't drone on about politics very much, anymore. As much a s I would contribute to the national discussion, I'd rather make you laugh, or inquire your opinions. Most of the comments to my blogs have been spam from overseas websites of...dubious nature.
This month I'd really like some answers from everyone who reads my blathering and blithering. Because I need an answer.
"The Radio" has been my career for three decades, now. For those of you who share this profession, a long recounting of what has changed in broadcasting (and changed for the worst) is not necessary. And those who are in the business also know that, to keep working and keep winning, we sometimes adjust our ideas to "go-along and get-along." But I must ask all of you, fellow broadcasters, personalities, friends or just the person who still flips on the radio for a little music or talk:
Do you still like a little humor with the presentation of your favorite songs?
Among the many ways the radio biz has gone south in the last decade has been the purge of humor from the delivery of music. Some of this approach comes from "perceptuals," or "polling" by consultants. The lighter the fare, the less humor. The younger the music...the less humor.
Write a comment to this post if you enjoy a laugh with music as its presented. It's not a real Focus Group, not a scientific poll, but it goes a long way to proving what I believe: That well placed zingers augment the music and enhance the station.
What say you?
This month I'd really like some answers from everyone who reads my blathering and blithering. Because I need an answer.
"The Radio" has been my career for three decades, now. For those of you who share this profession, a long recounting of what has changed in broadcasting (and changed for the worst) is not necessary. And those who are in the business also know that, to keep working and keep winning, we sometimes adjust our ideas to "go-along and get-along." But I must ask all of you, fellow broadcasters, personalities, friends or just the person who still flips on the radio for a little music or talk:
Do you still like a little humor with the presentation of your favorite songs?
Among the many ways the radio biz has gone south in the last decade has been the purge of humor from the delivery of music. Some of this approach comes from "perceptuals," or "polling" by consultants. The lighter the fare, the less humor. The younger the music...the less humor.
Write a comment to this post if you enjoy a laugh with music as its presented. It's not a real Focus Group, not a scientific poll, but it goes a long way to proving what I believe: That well placed zingers augment the music and enhance the station.
What say you?
Friday, September 3, 2010
THE LAST POLITICAL BLOG...FOR A GOOD, LONG WHILE
Either I'm on a path toward more prolonged happiness, or I'm just too fed-up to waste otherwise positive energy ruminating on the operations of the body politic, and media coverage of same.
In days gone past, I would have attributed this to the deep, abiding cynicism that invaded my psyche as a young man. Not now. I look at things too clearly. Instead of the accusatory and judgemental "They," I use the inclusive "we," because every human being is capable of the same lapses and foibles. Not everybody has the fondness for, or sense of history I posses. That's just a personal idiosyncrasy. Just about everyone, however, tends to view politics pejoratively, now...but not for the same reasons.
In my case, it's a realization that the benign civics lessons we try and teach children combine fact and apocryphal. Ours is a republic, with candidates elected to represent our interests, etc. Lifelong immersion in the machinations of government, governing and campaigning for said, reveal a filthy process. Millions remain blissfully ignorant of the dirt, and how the manipulation and exploitation are used to make ordinarily decent people vote against their own interests and the interests of the nation on a whole.
The individuals most susceptible to this are my age--the guy at the half-century mark, frustrated because life hasn't been all he'd hoped it would be. As disappointment, the rigors of child-rearing, divorce, job loss, aging, et al, build up, the interest in politics and the rants begin--against taxes, government, races, genders...issues that they'd never given a living shit about start to make their bile bubble up.
Decent people, by and large. Good human beings who still believe that a candidate or a party embody what they stand for: God, Country, and Family Values, dammit! The salt of the earth, who faithfully absorb the opinion that passes for news or fact, not knowing their inner fears and fires are being cynically stoked, and their religious fervor is being whipped up in a revival tent larger than the Caribbean Sea.
I'm not that guy. At 5-0 plus 1, now, I'm fatigued with having my buttons pushed. I was interested in politics at 13, when at the same age, many of these other fellows were smoking dope and sneaking out of their bedroom windows late at night (there'd have been hell to pay had I tried either). I read Time or Newsweek, watch some of the talking-head shows, and realize the agitation is not worth it. And there is continual agitation. Thirty years of being involved in broadcasting teaches one that all reporting is not intended to be informative. Much is written to churn up a maelstrom. The panel shows are there to pit two ideologues against one another, not to come to a resolution, but to bang heads, cause sparks, and create ratings.
Politics. Inflame and assail. Foment hate and derision. Governing? Stop the other guy by any means necessary. Party loyalty? Republicans found the power of the pulpit 30 years ago. Somehow, in a world of all-too-human hypocrisy, fundamentalism cohabitates with cold ambition and lock-step uniformity. Democrats, liberal, progressive, willing to fight for issues concerning something other than personal gain, show human weakness of their own: They lack the desire to piss off the guys who are being whipped into a frenzy by the Republicans. And the G.O.P. plays offense much better than Democrats play defense. The hostility chip that seems to operate in conservative ideology is not present in liberals, not where politics is concerned. Thus the difference in approaches, and results.
Me? I have watched and read and written of the political world, and have seen a man with actual intelligence elected overwhelmingly to the Presidency. How often can you say that? JFK had those smarts, that charisma. You have to be over 55 to remember his brief years in office, and his assassination obscures the fact that he was cautious about much, stymied by congress, and loathed by crackpots. Imagine if they'd know what he was hiding (poor health, probably sex addiction)?
Does that all sound familiar? JFK had major newspapers and (essentially) two and a half television networks to contend with. President Obama has millions of internet bloggers, and a channel that masquerades as a news organization, while decimating the complete agenda of his opposition (Fox). On cable, at least, objectivity (CNN) means playing devil's advocate. The so-called lefties (MSNBC, after sunset) give Obama grief as well. A cerebral President who uses his scholarly resolve is not popular among the hot-headed motormouths who need a constant vortex whirling to provide content.
The problem is, fellows my age still look at TV and Radio as the voice of official fact and reason. They're neither. They are hell-bent on creating conflict that equals ratings, that equal money. Period. Otherwise, how could broadcasters with a modicum of intelligence take Sarah Palin seriously? The history of popular culture in our country is riddled with characters like her, whose glibness hides an insidious, venal, covetousness. The kind we're told is sinful. How many parents tell their kids to finish what they started? How many of these same parents now worship at the feet of this person who resigned elective office to go make money, then (I'll bet) run for yet a higher office. Do our like minded opinions spin us into denial, as far as politicians are concerned? Do people need a leader to believe in so badly they'll inhale whatever hot air is blown in their direction?
Apparently so. And in a world where ex-Disc Jockeys evolve into talk-show hosts, sometimes appropriating political talking points they don't believe, getting riled up is no longer worth it. I take verapmil and atenlol to control blood pressure. My own radio career is held in limbo, and essentially I'm alone. Is the current body politic (with only the new media making it different from what's gone on in politics since the Roman senate) worth the agitation.
I say no. And look toward a little more happiness in life.
HEY LAAAAAAAAAAADY!!!
Many of you will read this once the holiday is over. You may or may not have seen 84-year old Jerry Lewis cry and drop his pants once more, in his honorable, never-ending, herculean effort to raise funds for the MDA, and find a cure for these dreaded diseases. I no longer watch. Besides getting sick of politics, I've gotten sick of telethons, and would rather send a donation than suffer the maudlin proceedings. Telethons used to be entertaining. Now they use the same marketing techniques as any other business that wants to attack your emotions and separate you from money. I'll send my check (If I don't, Jerry will send envelopes all year, anyway), but will take a pass on the pathos.
In days gone past, I would have attributed this to the deep, abiding cynicism that invaded my psyche as a young man. Not now. I look at things too clearly. Instead of the accusatory and judgemental "They," I use the inclusive "we," because every human being is capable of the same lapses and foibles. Not everybody has the fondness for, or sense of history I posses. That's just a personal idiosyncrasy. Just about everyone, however, tends to view politics pejoratively, now...but not for the same reasons.
In my case, it's a realization that the benign civics lessons we try and teach children combine fact and apocryphal. Ours is a republic, with candidates elected to represent our interests, etc. Lifelong immersion in the machinations of government, governing and campaigning for said, reveal a filthy process. Millions remain blissfully ignorant of the dirt, and how the manipulation and exploitation are used to make ordinarily decent people vote against their own interests and the interests of the nation on a whole.
The individuals most susceptible to this are my age--the guy at the half-century mark, frustrated because life hasn't been all he'd hoped it would be. As disappointment, the rigors of child-rearing, divorce, job loss, aging, et al, build up, the interest in politics and the rants begin--against taxes, government, races, genders...issues that they'd never given a living shit about start to make their bile bubble up.
Decent people, by and large. Good human beings who still believe that a candidate or a party embody what they stand for: God, Country, and Family Values, dammit! The salt of the earth, who faithfully absorb the opinion that passes for news or fact, not knowing their inner fears and fires are being cynically stoked, and their religious fervor is being whipped up in a revival tent larger than the Caribbean Sea.
I'm not that guy. At 5-0 plus 1, now, I'm fatigued with having my buttons pushed. I was interested in politics at 13, when at the same age, many of these other fellows were smoking dope and sneaking out of their bedroom windows late at night (there'd have been hell to pay had I tried either). I read Time or Newsweek, watch some of the talking-head shows, and realize the agitation is not worth it. And there is continual agitation. Thirty years of being involved in broadcasting teaches one that all reporting is not intended to be informative. Much is written to churn up a maelstrom. The panel shows are there to pit two ideologues against one another, not to come to a resolution, but to bang heads, cause sparks, and create ratings.
Politics. Inflame and assail. Foment hate and derision. Governing? Stop the other guy by any means necessary. Party loyalty? Republicans found the power of the pulpit 30 years ago. Somehow, in a world of all-too-human hypocrisy, fundamentalism cohabitates with cold ambition and lock-step uniformity. Democrats, liberal, progressive, willing to fight for issues concerning something other than personal gain, show human weakness of their own: They lack the desire to piss off the guys who are being whipped into a frenzy by the Republicans. And the G.O.P. plays offense much better than Democrats play defense. The hostility chip that seems to operate in conservative ideology is not present in liberals, not where politics is concerned. Thus the difference in approaches, and results.
Me? I have watched and read and written of the political world, and have seen a man with actual intelligence elected overwhelmingly to the Presidency. How often can you say that? JFK had those smarts, that charisma. You have to be over 55 to remember his brief years in office, and his assassination obscures the fact that he was cautious about much, stymied by congress, and loathed by crackpots. Imagine if they'd know what he was hiding (poor health, probably sex addiction)?
Does that all sound familiar? JFK had major newspapers and (essentially) two and a half television networks to contend with. President Obama has millions of internet bloggers, and a channel that masquerades as a news organization, while decimating the complete agenda of his opposition (Fox). On cable, at least, objectivity (CNN) means playing devil's advocate. The so-called lefties (MSNBC, after sunset) give Obama grief as well. A cerebral President who uses his scholarly resolve is not popular among the hot-headed motormouths who need a constant vortex whirling to provide content.
The problem is, fellows my age still look at TV and Radio as the voice of official fact and reason. They're neither. They are hell-bent on creating conflict that equals ratings, that equal money. Period. Otherwise, how could broadcasters with a modicum of intelligence take Sarah Palin seriously? The history of popular culture in our country is riddled with characters like her, whose glibness hides an insidious, venal, covetousness. The kind we're told is sinful. How many parents tell their kids to finish what they started? How many of these same parents now worship at the feet of this person who resigned elective office to go make money, then (I'll bet) run for yet a higher office. Do our like minded opinions spin us into denial, as far as politicians are concerned? Do people need a leader to believe in so badly they'll inhale whatever hot air is blown in their direction?
Apparently so. And in a world where ex-Disc Jockeys evolve into talk-show hosts, sometimes appropriating political talking points they don't believe, getting riled up is no longer worth it. I take verapmil and atenlol to control blood pressure. My own radio career is held in limbo, and essentially I'm alone. Is the current body politic (with only the new media making it different from what's gone on in politics since the Roman senate) worth the agitation.
I say no. And look toward a little more happiness in life.
HEY LAAAAAAAAAAADY!!!
Many of you will read this once the holiday is over. You may or may not have seen 84-year old Jerry Lewis cry and drop his pants once more, in his honorable, never-ending, herculean effort to raise funds for the MDA, and find a cure for these dreaded diseases. I no longer watch. Besides getting sick of politics, I've gotten sick of telethons, and would rather send a donation than suffer the maudlin proceedings. Telethons used to be entertaining. Now they use the same marketing techniques as any other business that wants to attack your emotions and separate you from money. I'll send my check (If I don't, Jerry will send envelopes all year, anyway), but will take a pass on the pathos.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
JULY WAS GREAT IN '88
One of the advantages of being born in July is that it's summer...at least in the northern hemisphere. The July's have piled up thick and strong, now, and each has its special place in my memory. Coming across an ancient TV commercial on YouTube can take me back to being a 7 year-old, in 1966. Affairs of the heart, and the occasional flare of youthfulness can conjure up 1976. It's when the month is unusually mild, as this one has been, that I recall July 1988.
Something as simple as a sea breeze can do it. For a few reflective seconds, I'm 29, leaving San Diego as if with a knapsack on a stick. Fleeing the repressive formatics, inane lack of leadership, and the hideous overnight shift at what was then Y-95-FM. I landed in Oxnard, at Top 40,
Q-105. One of the questions I was asked when interviewing for the night job was, "Why in the world are you leaving San Diego to come here?"
The question was valid. San Diego was beautiful, its beaches breath-taking, a small town/big city. I had left the nation's 18th largest radio market for number 88, or something lower on the list. It took an entire weekend to make my decision to go. I'd be leaving friends, a nice apartment in a great neighborhood, with reasonable rent, and I wouldn't be paid any more...in fact, for the first few weeks, it would be less.
I left to get off the overnight shift, yes, but also to play the hits, and bring my natural humor to the air. The suffocating atmosphere at KWLT (which became KKYY, Y-95) was more than I could bear. Along with production man John Nixon (who's reading this, I'm sure), more fun was had in the halls, and the studio making amusing spots than any time spent on air with the listening public. Adult Contemporary radio, as its called, makes money, but it's wall paper. Background noise. It stifles talented people. And it's no place for someone as young a 29 as I was.
When I got to Q-105, regardless of the dilapidated shack we broadcast from, and the fact the place was permeated with the scent of the cow, pig and chicken manure used to fertilize the surrounding strawberry fields, I was ecstatic. To be able to display my innate enthusiasm, to embrace the vibrancy and freshness of Top 40 music, and to crack wise over the air...at will? A hefty burden had been lifted from my shoulders.
The 70 degree summer temperatures and soft Oxnard breeze immediately brings back the positive vibe, and the energy of July 1988--and the music. Whether it can be considered good music or not, only a musicologist can say. I can't be critical about it. It reminds me of feeling free on the air for the first time, even though a review of recordings from that summer reveal a jock trying desperately to break free of the repression that was lingering in his head. I was horrible. But I felt good!
These are some of the song titles you'll never hear, you'll never see on a list of 1988's major hits, but they are songs that immediately bring forth the rush of excitement I felt playing them for the first time, that summer:
Rush Hour - Jane Weidlin
Summer Girls - Dino
Spring Love - Stevie B.
Simply Irresistible - Robert Palmer
Another Part of Me - Michael Jackson
Jackie - Blue Zone
The Twist - The Fat Boys, with Chubby Checker
Shake Your Thang - Salt and Pepper
Parents Just Don't Understand - D.J. Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince
The latter was number one on the Top 8 at 8 (brought to you by Saturday's Fashion store in The Oaks Mall) the night my U-Haul rental rolled into Port Hueneme, where I'd live for two years.
The pay would improve a little, my talent would develop, especially by summer, 1989, and I would never leave Ventura County (although I miss the sea breeze). All that mattered in July of 1988, was that, after 7 years being suppressed in both San Diego, and earlier in Public Radio, I was playing the hits...being young, and ready to burst with enthusiasm for what I was doing. I flush with moments of that feeling when a zephyr brings back a song--I'd love to feel that all the time, just once more in my career.
PUSHING BUTTONS THROUGH THE YEARS
While I'm thinking about all this, I'm reminded that I hardly listen to music at all while I'm in the car. Call it maturing, call it getting older, call it not associating positive memories with what I'm hearing. I think we can all, however, recall what the buttons on our car radios were set to as life rolled along. I certainly do.
On the buttons of my first car in 1977, equipped with a factory, Philco, AM radio, I punched up, from left to right, KABC (Dodger games) KRLA (I could never resist the oldies..and in '77 they had a current play list. It was Art Laboe, Johnny Hayes, the music, and that's it), KTNQ, The new Ten-Q (new home of the Real Don Steele, but they sped their music up 3 to 4 percent...sounded like the Chipmunks sang every song), KHJ (coming to the end of it's long run as THE Top 40 station in L.A.), KGFJ (the heritage "soul" station), and 1580, KDAY (the preeminent "soul" station). If you didn't have FM in your ride, you missed KMET, K-EARTH, KLOS, KUTE, the new "Disco" station, and jazz on KKGO.
Flash ahead ten years, as I settled in at Q-105, and my '83 Corolla has six AM and three FM buttons. On the AM: KMPC (not for the big band music, but for the remarkable, funny sports reporter Jim Healy, who's daily 5:30pm, 30 minute, drop-in filled shows could not be missed); KABC (Dodgers, as always), and KNX for news. FM: K-EARTH (who knew I'd wind up working there, someday?), Q-105 (where I worked, then) and KIIS (the leading Top 40 in the '80's).
The state or radio and car radios themselves have changed. Not having Sirius/XM, my six AM presets, today, are occupied by sports talk--710 KSPN, 1090 out of San Diego, KNX for news, KFWB, for my friend Maggie McKay (Phil Hulett's on too early for me to catch while driving) and KABC (Dodgers...back home again, although surrounded by some fairly hostile right-wing hosts, and weekend infomercials). I have 18 FM presets I used for no more than four stations: The Sound, KLOS, KIIS, and K-Earth, though I rarely listen when I'm not in the building.
Enjoy the summer, enjoy listening to what you dig, whether the radio delivers it or not. And if you surf the net for what radio used to offer, enjoy my friend Kevin Poore's "Nights at The Sound Table" Wednesday nights at 7:30, PDT, at www.ustream.com. A panel determine what music sucks and what doesn't. It's a lot of fun.
Something as simple as a sea breeze can do it. For a few reflective seconds, I'm 29, leaving San Diego as if with a knapsack on a stick. Fleeing the repressive formatics, inane lack of leadership, and the hideous overnight shift at what was then Y-95-FM. I landed in Oxnard, at Top 40,
Q-105. One of the questions I was asked when interviewing for the night job was, "Why in the world are you leaving San Diego to come here?"
The question was valid. San Diego was beautiful, its beaches breath-taking, a small town/big city. I had left the nation's 18th largest radio market for number 88, or something lower on the list. It took an entire weekend to make my decision to go. I'd be leaving friends, a nice apartment in a great neighborhood, with reasonable rent, and I wouldn't be paid any more...in fact, for the first few weeks, it would be less.
I left to get off the overnight shift, yes, but also to play the hits, and bring my natural humor to the air. The suffocating atmosphere at KWLT (which became KKYY, Y-95) was more than I could bear. Along with production man John Nixon (who's reading this, I'm sure), more fun was had in the halls, and the studio making amusing spots than any time spent on air with the listening public. Adult Contemporary radio, as its called, makes money, but it's wall paper. Background noise. It stifles talented people. And it's no place for someone as young a 29 as I was.
When I got to Q-105, regardless of the dilapidated shack we broadcast from, and the fact the place was permeated with the scent of the cow, pig and chicken manure used to fertilize the surrounding strawberry fields, I was ecstatic. To be able to display my innate enthusiasm, to embrace the vibrancy and freshness of Top 40 music, and to crack wise over the air...at will? A hefty burden had been lifted from my shoulders.
The 70 degree summer temperatures and soft Oxnard breeze immediately brings back the positive vibe, and the energy of July 1988--and the music. Whether it can be considered good music or not, only a musicologist can say. I can't be critical about it. It reminds me of feeling free on the air for the first time, even though a review of recordings from that summer reveal a jock trying desperately to break free of the repression that was lingering in his head. I was horrible. But I felt good!
These are some of the song titles you'll never hear, you'll never see on a list of 1988's major hits, but they are songs that immediately bring forth the rush of excitement I felt playing them for the first time, that summer:
Rush Hour - Jane Weidlin
Summer Girls - Dino
Spring Love - Stevie B.
Simply Irresistible - Robert Palmer
Another Part of Me - Michael Jackson
Jackie - Blue Zone
The Twist - The Fat Boys, with Chubby Checker
Shake Your Thang - Salt and Pepper
Parents Just Don't Understand - D.J. Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince
The latter was number one on the Top 8 at 8 (brought to you by Saturday's Fashion store in The Oaks Mall) the night my U-Haul rental rolled into Port Hueneme, where I'd live for two years.
The pay would improve a little, my talent would develop, especially by summer, 1989, and I would never leave Ventura County (although I miss the sea breeze). All that mattered in July of 1988, was that, after 7 years being suppressed in both San Diego, and earlier in Public Radio, I was playing the hits...being young, and ready to burst with enthusiasm for what I was doing. I flush with moments of that feeling when a zephyr brings back a song--I'd love to feel that all the time, just once more in my career.
PUSHING BUTTONS THROUGH THE YEARS
While I'm thinking about all this, I'm reminded that I hardly listen to music at all while I'm in the car. Call it maturing, call it getting older, call it not associating positive memories with what I'm hearing. I think we can all, however, recall what the buttons on our car radios were set to as life rolled along. I certainly do.
On the buttons of my first car in 1977, equipped with a factory, Philco, AM radio, I punched up, from left to right, KABC (Dodger games) KRLA (I could never resist the oldies..and in '77 they had a current play list. It was Art Laboe, Johnny Hayes, the music, and that's it), KTNQ, The new Ten-Q (new home of the Real Don Steele, but they sped their music up 3 to 4 percent...sounded like the Chipmunks sang every song), KHJ (coming to the end of it's long run as THE Top 40 station in L.A.), KGFJ (the heritage "soul" station), and 1580, KDAY (the preeminent "soul" station). If you didn't have FM in your ride, you missed KMET, K-EARTH, KLOS, KUTE, the new "Disco" station, and jazz on KKGO.
Flash ahead ten years, as I settled in at Q-105, and my '83 Corolla has six AM and three FM buttons. On the AM: KMPC (not for the big band music, but for the remarkable, funny sports reporter Jim Healy, who's daily 5:30pm, 30 minute, drop-in filled shows could not be missed); KABC (Dodgers, as always), and KNX for news. FM: K-EARTH (who knew I'd wind up working there, someday?), Q-105 (where I worked, then) and KIIS (the leading Top 40 in the '80's).
The state or radio and car radios themselves have changed. Not having Sirius/XM, my six AM presets, today, are occupied by sports talk--710 KSPN, 1090 out of San Diego, KNX for news, KFWB, for my friend Maggie McKay (Phil Hulett's on too early for me to catch while driving) and KABC (Dodgers...back home again, although surrounded by some fairly hostile right-wing hosts, and weekend infomercials). I have 18 FM presets I used for no more than four stations: The Sound, KLOS, KIIS, and K-Earth, though I rarely listen when I'm not in the building.
Enjoy the summer, enjoy listening to what you dig, whether the radio delivers it or not. And if you surf the net for what radio used to offer, enjoy my friend Kevin Poore's "Nights at The Sound Table" Wednesday nights at 7:30, PDT, at www.ustream.com. A panel determine what music sucks and what doesn't. It's a lot of fun.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
UP NEXT: GOOD LOOKING PEOPLE RULE! FIRST, HERE'S JACKIE WITH THE WEATHER...
After I jotted down the notes for this month's ramblings, I came across an article of note in Newsweek magaizne. The writer, Dahlia Lithwick, was obviously pondering the same notion that I was: that Good Looking people, apparently, rule.
For those who have not read or do not intend to read the article, Dahlia observed that "...the less attractive you are, the more likely you are to receive a longer prison sentence, a lower damage award, a lower salary." She pointed to a new book written by Stanford law professor Deborah Rhode, that proposes laws be enacted to halt "looks discrimination." "The Beauty Bias," is its title. In it, all kinds of low, vile, and shallow employer practices are cited, like those at Abercrombie and Fitch. Evidently, these yo-yos hold Sorority-type management meetings in which they review photos of their sales kids, and fire them for acne breakouts, weight-gain, and (as Dahlia Lithwick writes), "...unacceptable quantities of ethnicity."
Ms. Lithwick's article illuminates exactly what was running through my mind, though my thoughts are more in line with the root cause of this kind of discrimination: Innate human nature, and repetitive exposure to our national addiction...TV.
Look--as humans, we've always been drawn to beautiful things: flowers, cloud formations, and other people. First paintings, then photos, movies and celebrity, via television, simply compounded the allure. I figured it might be a great idea for those of you with young children if, one evening during a power outage, you regale the kids with tales from days of yore--not about a era before plastic surgery and dental veneers, but more recent times. For example, when ugly people delivered TV news.
'Tis true. Especially in Los Angeles. A sign has been posted and fully accepted: No uglies allowed, especially when it comes to delivering the WEATHER! Oh, sure, they let a bald guy with brains cover politics, or a heavy-set woman in horn-rimmed glasses report from the Pentagon. When it comes to Highs and lows and the marine layer, staggering good looks are a necessity.
Though attractive lead actors and actresses have always dominated soaps and prime-time TV, it's taken time for the prerequisite for what I call "beyond telegenic" looks to completely overtake the news. In TV's first 25 years, broadcast journalism was more sacrosanct. What we would now consider ridiculous looking human beings (that is, every day folks) would bring you the daily forecast.
On KNBC, Channel 4, in the late 60's-early 70's, there was a gentleman named Bob Hale, who illustrated his weather reports with a huge, magic marker. He'd draw cute little seals, puppies and kitties next to the southland's predicted highs and lows. A bespectacled man who looked like an insurance agent, Bob disappeared from the air one summer, never to return. Former KNBC Anchor Tom Snyder told his late night audience (years after Bob had passed on) that in between drawing cuddly characters, the weather artist pounded the sauce with a vengeance, and swerved his way out of TV.
Also on Channel 4, around the same era, was a genuine meteorologist named Gordon Weir. With looks a bit like an aging James Mason, he took a professorial approach to assessing the next day's weather, using a pointer and science instructor's monotone. His forecasts were so deadly dull, you could almost hear the director yelling "WAKE UP" through the cameraman's headset. Old Gordon may well have nodded off, himself, between the overnight low in the valley, and the high in Manhattan Beach. You couldn't tell. When he drifted from TV, around the middle of the 70's, I imagined he went back to his perch in some ivory tower, to be dusted, occasionally, by a bored, university scrub woman. In truth, he passed in 1987 after a long illness.
Over on then-highly rated KNXT Channel 2 (now CBS2), Bill Keene held forth. A weather fixture with the visage of a basset hound, under his very perceptible rug, Bill left TV for KNX, the radio station upstairs at Columbia Square in Hollywood, where he'd spend the rest of his professional life as the area's preeminent traffic reporter and punster.
Who could forget Dr. George Fishbeck on KABC Channel 7's Eyewitness News? The pixie-like Dr. George was the very image of fatherly befuddlement, as amusing as he was sincere. He often held his right hand over the "7 in a Circle" crest, just above the heart on his Eyewitness News Blazer. As late as 2008, he was still doing forecasts in his living room for his wife. He's what they like to call a "spry" 88 years old.
This era of pallid, old weathermen with limp, damaged hair started crumbling while they were at their height, when KNBC hired the comely Kelly Lange to do weekend forecasts. With the recent retirement of CBS2 Weather clown Johnny Mountain, who'd been on the air in Los Angeles for 32 years, the crypt is nearly sealed. Comics like Fritz Coleman on KNBC4, and dimpled, leading men-types like Dallas Raines on KABC7 are the last of their ilk.
Turn on most TV news in L.A., today, and you realize why no one makes time to watch the Miss America Pageant, anymore. Why should you when you can watch someone just as stunning do the weather on TV?
Cases in point: Jackie Johnson, CBS2. Just try and mentally process weather information and remember tomorrow's high while being exposed to those curves for two or three minutes. I regularly go to the internet for the weather, but watch Jackie just for the diversion. What's worse, I easily admit my shallowness, and I'm not alone.
Early in the morning on KNBC4, a voluptuous distraction named Elita Loresca is gainfully employed. They must spend a fortune on her wardrobe, what with those cashmere sweaters being stretched beyond capacity. A lot of coffee must get spilled with Elita on display. Those who don't get up early can see her layout in FHM. there's wet clothing involved.
Turn to KTLA, Channel 5, and there's Vera Jimenez, who once did morning traffic on CBS2. Thinking back, I have to say she's soooooooooo much cuter and cuddlier than Bob Hale's drawings of kitties and seals, especially when she did traffic. Something, however, is amiss at Channel 5. KTLA lights her differently than CBS2 did. A petite young woman, her look is diminished by Channel 5's inability to light her correctly. Even in HD, you half-way expect a screeching cackle, a broom and smoking cauldron to accompany the graphics. And this is a seriously good looking woman. TV has never known how to properly light performers with brown skin, I suppose.
Finally, I submit to you, the strapping Indra Petersens, on KABC7, every Saturday and Sunday morning. A Swedish Beauty. She may well have been on Tiger's short list, but she's obviously too smart for anything like that. If you're up early on the weekend or just falling asleep, it does you good to know there's someone who looks like that on TV.
My point: The latter sentence says it all. Even I, as immersed in the history of broadcast journalism as I am, as acutely aware of discrimination as I am, have to concede that it's a treat seeing women so beautiful present news. It's sexist, yes, and unabashedly superficial, but evidently, we love it--at least according to focus groups, galvanic skin response tests, and the almighty Nielson ratings.
The author of "The Beauty Bias" may well be correct. Of all the forms of discrimination, though, this would be the most difficult to adjust or to legislate against. It's a deeply ingrained part of our flawed human nature. Besides, is beauty not, as they say, in the eye of the beholder?
***
A final observation: I hope at some point in time that, as day must follow night, AUTO-TUNE will go the way of the WAH-WAH PEDAL. For an example of autotune at work, think of Sean Kingston's "Beautiful Girls." The robotic computer program is used to keep him on key and in tune. After while, it's like finger nails on a chalk board.
For memories of the equally hideous wah-wah pedal, think back to the old Cheech and Chong bit where, in a fit of wah-wah induced rage, Cheech snatches the offending pedal out of its power supply. It's on Cheech and Chong's Wedding Album. Still funny, after all these years.
For those who have not read or do not intend to read the article, Dahlia observed that "...the less attractive you are, the more likely you are to receive a longer prison sentence, a lower damage award, a lower salary." She pointed to a new book written by Stanford law professor Deborah Rhode, that proposes laws be enacted to halt "looks discrimination." "The Beauty Bias," is its title. In it, all kinds of low, vile, and shallow employer practices are cited, like those at Abercrombie and Fitch. Evidently, these yo-yos hold Sorority-type management meetings in which they review photos of their sales kids, and fire them for acne breakouts, weight-gain, and (as Dahlia Lithwick writes), "...unacceptable quantities of ethnicity."
Ms. Lithwick's article illuminates exactly what was running through my mind, though my thoughts are more in line with the root cause of this kind of discrimination: Innate human nature, and repetitive exposure to our national addiction...TV.
Look--as humans, we've always been drawn to beautiful things: flowers, cloud formations, and other people. First paintings, then photos, movies and celebrity, via television, simply compounded the allure. I figured it might be a great idea for those of you with young children if, one evening during a power outage, you regale the kids with tales from days of yore--not about a era before plastic surgery and dental veneers, but more recent times. For example, when ugly people delivered TV news.
'Tis true. Especially in Los Angeles. A sign has been posted and fully accepted: No uglies allowed, especially when it comes to delivering the WEATHER! Oh, sure, they let a bald guy with brains cover politics, or a heavy-set woman in horn-rimmed glasses report from the Pentagon. When it comes to Highs and lows and the marine layer, staggering good looks are a necessity.
Though attractive lead actors and actresses have always dominated soaps and prime-time TV, it's taken time for the prerequisite for what I call "beyond telegenic" looks to completely overtake the news. In TV's first 25 years, broadcast journalism was more sacrosanct. What we would now consider ridiculous looking human beings (that is, every day folks) would bring you the daily forecast.
On KNBC, Channel 4, in the late 60's-early 70's, there was a gentleman named Bob Hale, who illustrated his weather reports with a huge, magic marker. He'd draw cute little seals, puppies and kitties next to the southland's predicted highs and lows. A bespectacled man who looked like an insurance agent, Bob disappeared from the air one summer, never to return. Former KNBC Anchor Tom Snyder told his late night audience (years after Bob had passed on) that in between drawing cuddly characters, the weather artist pounded the sauce with a vengeance, and swerved his way out of TV.
Also on Channel 4, around the same era, was a genuine meteorologist named Gordon Weir. With looks a bit like an aging James Mason, he took a professorial approach to assessing the next day's weather, using a pointer and science instructor's monotone. His forecasts were so deadly dull, you could almost hear the director yelling "WAKE UP" through the cameraman's headset. Old Gordon may well have nodded off, himself, between the overnight low in the valley, and the high in Manhattan Beach. You couldn't tell. When he drifted from TV, around the middle of the 70's, I imagined he went back to his perch in some ivory tower, to be dusted, occasionally, by a bored, university scrub woman. In truth, he passed in 1987 after a long illness.
Over on then-highly rated KNXT Channel 2 (now CBS2), Bill Keene held forth. A weather fixture with the visage of a basset hound, under his very perceptible rug, Bill left TV for KNX, the radio station upstairs at Columbia Square in Hollywood, where he'd spend the rest of his professional life as the area's preeminent traffic reporter and punster.
Who could forget Dr. George Fishbeck on KABC Channel 7's Eyewitness News? The pixie-like Dr. George was the very image of fatherly befuddlement, as amusing as he was sincere. He often held his right hand over the "7 in a Circle" crest, just above the heart on his Eyewitness News Blazer. As late as 2008, he was still doing forecasts in his living room for his wife. He's what they like to call a "spry" 88 years old.
This era of pallid, old weathermen with limp, damaged hair started crumbling while they were at their height, when KNBC hired the comely Kelly Lange to do weekend forecasts. With the recent retirement of CBS2 Weather clown Johnny Mountain, who'd been on the air in Los Angeles for 32 years, the crypt is nearly sealed. Comics like Fritz Coleman on KNBC4, and dimpled, leading men-types like Dallas Raines on KABC7 are the last of their ilk.
Turn on most TV news in L.A., today, and you realize why no one makes time to watch the Miss America Pageant, anymore. Why should you when you can watch someone just as stunning do the weather on TV?
Cases in point: Jackie Johnson, CBS2. Just try and mentally process weather information and remember tomorrow's high while being exposed to those curves for two or three minutes. I regularly go to the internet for the weather, but watch Jackie just for the diversion. What's worse, I easily admit my shallowness, and I'm not alone.
Early in the morning on KNBC4, a voluptuous distraction named Elita Loresca is gainfully employed. They must spend a fortune on her wardrobe, what with those cashmere sweaters being stretched beyond capacity. A lot of coffee must get spilled with Elita on display. Those who don't get up early can see her layout in FHM. there's wet clothing involved.
Turn to KTLA, Channel 5, and there's Vera Jimenez, who once did morning traffic on CBS2. Thinking back, I have to say she's soooooooooo much cuter and cuddlier than Bob Hale's drawings of kitties and seals, especially when she did traffic. Something, however, is amiss at Channel 5. KTLA lights her differently than CBS2 did. A petite young woman, her look is diminished by Channel 5's inability to light her correctly. Even in HD, you half-way expect a screeching cackle, a broom and smoking cauldron to accompany the graphics. And this is a seriously good looking woman. TV has never known how to properly light performers with brown skin, I suppose.
Finally, I submit to you, the strapping Indra Petersens, on KABC7, every Saturday and Sunday morning. A Swedish Beauty. She may well have been on Tiger's short list, but she's obviously too smart for anything like that. If you're up early on the weekend or just falling asleep, it does you good to know there's someone who looks like that on TV.
My point: The latter sentence says it all. Even I, as immersed in the history of broadcast journalism as I am, as acutely aware of discrimination as I am, have to concede that it's a treat seeing women so beautiful present news. It's sexist, yes, and unabashedly superficial, but evidently, we love it--at least according to focus groups, galvanic skin response tests, and the almighty Nielson ratings.
The author of "The Beauty Bias" may well be correct. Of all the forms of discrimination, though, this would be the most difficult to adjust or to legislate against. It's a deeply ingrained part of our flawed human nature. Besides, is beauty not, as they say, in the eye of the beholder?
***
A final observation: I hope at some point in time that, as day must follow night, AUTO-TUNE will go the way of the WAH-WAH PEDAL. For an example of autotune at work, think of Sean Kingston's "Beautiful Girls." The robotic computer program is used to keep him on key and in tune. After while, it's like finger nails on a chalk board.
For memories of the equally hideous wah-wah pedal, think back to the old Cheech and Chong bit where, in a fit of wah-wah induced rage, Cheech snatches the offending pedal out of its power supply. It's on Cheech and Chong's Wedding Album. Still funny, after all these years.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
IT HAPPENED AT THE TAMI SHOW
I'm probably going to provoke a lot of opinionated discussion here, because when it comes to music, especially rock and roll, nothing (save politics and religion) stimulates more passionate positions. So steady yourself for agreement, or a reaction that makes you pace the room with restrained aggression.
In this, the 55th year since Bill Haley and The Comets topped the Billboard charts with "Rock Around the Clock," we have the luxury of looking back on over a half century of rock and roll recorded on film or video tape. I believe there are five performances that galvanized, charged, or struck viewers with awe, and altered the lens through which popular music was examined. In no particular order, they are:
Elvis Presley performing Hound Dog on the Milton Berle Show, June 5, 1956
It wasn't his first TV appearance, of course. It was, however, the one during which he bumped and humped and grinded like nothing the country had seen outside of a stag film. The Big E's evocative, interpretative, unselfconscious gyrations at the old NBC Studios on Sunset and Vine in the heart of Hollywood, beamed live across a country and shocked an older generation to its conservative, repressed toes. For his subsequent TV appearances, including his celebrated shots on The Ed Sullivan Show, Elvis was photographed from the waist up...to both simmer the surging hormones of teenage girls, and the blood pressure of the sexually stifled parents, network TV affiliates and their sponsors. Regardless, Elvis rocked their world, and opened the door for expression via spontaneous hip-swiveling. The generation that sat watching with mouths agape as he stole the show from Uncle Miltie, would be doing The Twist at parties, four years later.
The Beatles on Ed Sullivan, February 9, 1964
Before a huge Sunday night viewing audience, the Fab Four shook America from its moorings, and its mourning. Two and a half months after President Kennedy's assassination, The Beatles filled a gaping hole in the heart of our popular culture. Four young men and their instruments, introduced by the stiff-as-a-board-impresario...an image now indelible to all fans of rock and roll, whether they'd been born by '64 or not.
Jimi Hendrix Lights his Guitar, Monterrey Pop Festival, 1967
The rock and roll worm had turned by the Summer of Love, and when Hendrix lit his ax for the crowd at Monterrey, cameras recorded a seminal moment in stage-craft. You didn't dance to this-- you watched in awe, whether it was at the festival itself, or a movie theatre the following year. Sure, he plucked his strings with his teeth, and played the National Anthem as it had never been rendered before. But it was setting flame to his fretboard that was unforgettable. Pyrotechnics and rock music forged a union for better and (tragically) worse.
Michael Jackson Moonwalks, Motown 25th Anniversary Show, 1983
We'll forget for a moment the wacky eccentricities and disturbing details of the life. For sheer spellbinding TV, you have to point to M.J.'s performance on a TV special celebrating Motown's past. Though he'd left the label years before, it was Michael's 1983 "present" that rocked the house. There's no doubting the talent or the influence. People who couldn't trot and chew gum, were moon-walking after this show. In an age when cable was just wobbling to its feet, and viewers were not yet separated like vegetables from entrees on a cafeteria tray, it stirred a huge audience over NBC.
And, last but not least, James Brown, at The TAMI Show, Santa Monica Civic, 1964
An unparalleled performance for all-time. To watch it is to witness exhilaration personified. J.B. had, by then, been called, "the hardest working man in show business." His engagements at the Apollo Theatre in Harlem were seen only by almost exclusively Black audiences, but released as an album that stayed on the charts for a year. What's lost in the story of this electrifying celebration at The TAMI Show, is the fact that Brown was next to last on stage. Now that it is, at long last, available on DVD, it's background, and why I think J.B.'s performance was the most extraordinary history, bears some explaining.
I was 14 years old in November of 1973. Saturday nights usually meant playing cards with a family member or watching the CBS-TV trifecta of Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart, and Carol Burnett. For some reason, on this particular night, perhaps it was Thanksgiving weekend, I was clicking around the TV set and landed on Channel 28, the Public station in Los Angeles. There, in black and white, was a film that started with what were then 9-year-old-rock acts readying themselves for a show. Jan and Dean, The Miracles, The Supreme,s The Stones, and James Brown were all shown in various states of preparation. Then the opening titles flashed: The TAMI Show, teenage music international. Having an affection for the music of my much older siblings, who'd come of age between '64-to-'68, I lay on my stomach, propped myself up by the elbows, and watched the show.
What stood out on that night was James Brown. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My inner monologue was riddled with questions. "Is he having a nervous breakdown? Those guys are trying to take him off stage...what? He's running back? Are guys in white coats gonna strap him to a gurney and haul him away?" By the time he strutted, exhausted, off the stage, I was laughing, having seen the most remarkable act of my tween-aged life.
The next Monday, back in my 9th grade, fourth period class, I was listening to a guy we actually called "James Brown" because of he worshipped The Godfather of Soul. In his stammering way, he tried to describe J.B.'s show at the L.A. Sports Arena. Coincidentally, he'd appeared in L.A. the same night the public TV station ran the Tami Show. I joined the discussion and added how Brown's minions would drape the emotionally drained singer with a cape...to no avail. Brown would whip off the cape, leap back to the microphone, and fall to his knees with a wail of soul-searing anguish.
Crestfallen, the kid who worshipped the Godfather of Soul looked at me with baleful eyes. "Were you at the Sports Arena, Saturday?"
"No," I told him. "I saw a 9 year old show on Channel 28." I don't know which answer would have hurt him more--that I'd perhaps had seen the show, or that I saw something on TV that he'd missed because he may or may not have been out stealing a car.
I never forgot The Tami Show. As the years went by, bits and pieces, a performance here, a performance there, various clips of some of the acts, but not all, would find their way to TV, movie screens, and bootlegged video. In 1974, Dick Clark dedicated 90 minutes of ABC late night time to a ten-year retrospective, where he forewarned girls who'd been in the audience, "Don't look now ladies, you're nearing 30." Later, he described Lesley Gore's 1964 hairstyle as having "...been sprayed on with gunnite."
Now that The TAMI Show is on DVD, it can be seen in its entirety. A two-hour film, released over the holidays as 1964 ended, The TAMI Show was shot by television cameras, recorded on high-speed video tape. They called the process Electronovision. It would allow for a higher resolution, once transferred to a 35 millimeter print for theatres.
The acts hit the stage at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium for shows on Friday October 28th and Saturday October 29th, 1964, before an audience of teens. Producers asked local schools to distribute the 2500 tickets. It was the Saturday show that made it to the screen.
In alphabetical order, screaming kids from Santa Monica watched The Beach Boys, Chuck Berry, the aforementioned Godfather or Soul, The Barbarians (a Massachusetts group that we'd now call a garage band) Marvin Gaye, Gerry and The Pacemakers, Lesley Gore, Billy J. Kramer and The Dakotas, Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, The Supremes, The Rolling Stones, and hosts Jan and Dean.
Uncredited were a slew of dancers who frugged, monkyed and jerked through the whole show. Among them was a teen-aged Antonia Basilerro, who later danced her way to the charts as Toni Basil, and a tall, leggy, alluring blonde who was workin' herself into a frenzy. She would later "roll in the hay" as a damsel in "Young Frankenstein," and gain an Oscar nomination for her 1983 role in "Tootsie." When you watch The TAMI Show, keep an eye peeled for her: 20-year-old Teri Garr. At one point, the dancers boogie right through The Supremes act, and there are two future Oscar nominees as young women, facing each other--Teri Garr and Diana Ross.
In fact, the entire show's a black and white snapshot of some of our greatest artists on the verge of super stardom. The exception would be Chuck Berry, who starts the show. He was already a legend. The DVD notes point out it was Berry's penchant for demanding his pay in cash, just prior to performing, that ate up the show's petty cash on hand. The Four Seasons had asked for too much money, otherwise (save The Beatles) even more stars would have shaken the auditorium to its rafters. What an evening. One of rock and roll's tender years frozen in amber, all captured on film. You should watch it, then view Monterrey Pop to understand just how music and the world would change between 1964 and 1967. The contrast will give you whiplash.
There's so much to see. The unbridled joy on the face of Gerry Marsden of Gerry and The Pacemakers, his guitar poised just under his chin. You'll never see an artist smile so much while singing. Even though it was 45 years ago, you can feel the verve of youth surge from the screen.
The Beach Boys harmonies and surf guitars are as flawless on stage as they are on record, astounding when you consider how many of today's acts must lipsync. It was, however, these very songs that caused the Beach Boys management to snip their set from future theatrical releases of The TAMI Show. By the time "Pet Sounds" was being recorded, they no longer wanted to be typed as the "surf and hot rod" band. It's only on this DVD that their entire TAMI performance is seen once more.
The Motown acts on the bill had just come off the road. Smokey told Dick Clark on that ABC-TV retrospective in 1974, "...I was hoarse." That's an understatement. The Miracles demonstration of The Monkey makes up for it. For that matter, a shot of Teri Garr doing The Monkey in tight jeans is worth it, too, bless her heart. Lauren Bacall was right: film is forever. Thus, so is beauty.
Marvin Gaye was backed up by Darlene Love and the Blossoms, and actually danced. Long after his passing, Motown associates would reveal how difficult that was, because, "Marvin...could NOT dance." The Supremes were resplendent in evening wear, two hits into a string of ten number ones in a row over 1964-65. Lesley Gore was the queen of the hop with a six song set. From a historical perspective, she was the leading female artist of the time.
Gerry and The Pacemakers and Billy J. Kramer and The Dakotas were overseen by the Beatles manager, Brian Epstein, so they came as a package deal. The Pacemakers opened the show and traded songs with Chuck Berry, quite an honor, as British bands revered early rock and roll and R & B performers.
Then there was James Brown. Forget the dated portions of this film--the big hair, the quaint, harmless frugging and twisting, and the distorted monaural sound. J.B. superseded all of that. He's a study in showmanship that's almost vaudevillian. I cannot emphasise too strongly the impact of this performance. When James died, clips of this night were shown in tribute, everywhere. Years before, another generation of singer-dancers paid homage to his TAMI Show set. Prince had it run on a continuous loop in the lobby of his Paisley Park offices in Minneapolis. Hammer danced along to it in a 1990 music video.
And who had the thankless job of following this tour de force on stage at The TAMI Show? The Rolling Stones. Producers had insisted that The Stones be last on the bill. Relative newbies from across the pond, they were faced with the unenviable task of coming on after J.B. . As the years passed, they would, of course, perfect their stage act as "the World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band." But on The TAMI Show, Mick Jagger's Brown-inspired, improvised moves look like those of a child who needs to pee--arms flailing, knees wobbling, hopping, jumping, generally having a fit. Their musician ship ruled...the choreography would get better. Not that the kids cared, that night. The screaming didn't stop.
Until The TAMI Show, rock and rollers were seen almost exclusively lipsyncing on dance shows like American Bandstand, or doing a live song or two as a guest on Ed Sullivan, or one of the many other variety shows of the era. This film set the standard for concert and concert films.
And the only thing today that comes close to the long-lost American myth of innocence, all that could come close to the good-time teen groove of The TAMI Show, would be something from the Disney Channel roster of acts. If you don't believe me, connect the dots. Hannah Montana, The Jonas Brothers, screaming tweens and harmlessness.
And if you're over 45, watch the TAMI Show, experience a world we once knew, and know that when you see James Brown, you will have seen nothing like it, before or since.
CLUSTER UPDATE, KARMA, AND CAREY MULLIGAN
My thanks to all who wrote or called. This cluster is over. New pain relief has been prescribed. Let's hope another four years passed before it strikes again.
Also, good friend Craig Gross's daughter Karma is now two and a half months old. Born on February 15th. Man, time passes fast!
And finally, lest you think my eye for the alluring is lost in '64, admiring Teri Garr in her youth:
Carey Mulligan of "An Education," is half my age. So what? That dimple knocks me out! So does her smooth British purring. Ya gotta call 'em like you see 'em.
In this, the 55th year since Bill Haley and The Comets topped the Billboard charts with "Rock Around the Clock," we have the luxury of looking back on over a half century of rock and roll recorded on film or video tape. I believe there are five performances that galvanized, charged, or struck viewers with awe, and altered the lens through which popular music was examined. In no particular order, they are:
Elvis Presley performing Hound Dog on the Milton Berle Show, June 5, 1956
It wasn't his first TV appearance, of course. It was, however, the one during which he bumped and humped and grinded like nothing the country had seen outside of a stag film. The Big E's evocative, interpretative, unselfconscious gyrations at the old NBC Studios on Sunset and Vine in the heart of Hollywood, beamed live across a country and shocked an older generation to its conservative, repressed toes. For his subsequent TV appearances, including his celebrated shots on The Ed Sullivan Show, Elvis was photographed from the waist up...to both simmer the surging hormones of teenage girls, and the blood pressure of the sexually stifled parents, network TV affiliates and their sponsors. Regardless, Elvis rocked their world, and opened the door for expression via spontaneous hip-swiveling. The generation that sat watching with mouths agape as he stole the show from Uncle Miltie, would be doing The Twist at parties, four years later.
The Beatles on Ed Sullivan, February 9, 1964
Before a huge Sunday night viewing audience, the Fab Four shook America from its moorings, and its mourning. Two and a half months after President Kennedy's assassination, The Beatles filled a gaping hole in the heart of our popular culture. Four young men and their instruments, introduced by the stiff-as-a-board-impresario...an image now indelible to all fans of rock and roll, whether they'd been born by '64 or not.
Jimi Hendrix Lights his Guitar, Monterrey Pop Festival, 1967
The rock and roll worm had turned by the Summer of Love, and when Hendrix lit his ax for the crowd at Monterrey, cameras recorded a seminal moment in stage-craft. You didn't dance to this-- you watched in awe, whether it was at the festival itself, or a movie theatre the following year. Sure, he plucked his strings with his teeth, and played the National Anthem as it had never been rendered before. But it was setting flame to his fretboard that was unforgettable. Pyrotechnics and rock music forged a union for better and (tragically) worse.
Michael Jackson Moonwalks, Motown 25th Anniversary Show, 1983
We'll forget for a moment the wacky eccentricities and disturbing details of the life. For sheer spellbinding TV, you have to point to M.J.'s performance on a TV special celebrating Motown's past. Though he'd left the label years before, it was Michael's 1983 "present" that rocked the house. There's no doubting the talent or the influence. People who couldn't trot and chew gum, were moon-walking after this show. In an age when cable was just wobbling to its feet, and viewers were not yet separated like vegetables from entrees on a cafeteria tray, it stirred a huge audience over NBC.
And, last but not least, James Brown, at The TAMI Show, Santa Monica Civic, 1964
An unparalleled performance for all-time. To watch it is to witness exhilaration personified. J.B. had, by then, been called, "the hardest working man in show business." His engagements at the Apollo Theatre in Harlem were seen only by almost exclusively Black audiences, but released as an album that stayed on the charts for a year. What's lost in the story of this electrifying celebration at The TAMI Show, is the fact that Brown was next to last on stage. Now that it is, at long last, available on DVD, it's background, and why I think J.B.'s performance was the most extraordinary history, bears some explaining.
I was 14 years old in November of 1973. Saturday nights usually meant playing cards with a family member or watching the CBS-TV trifecta of Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart, and Carol Burnett. For some reason, on this particular night, perhaps it was Thanksgiving weekend, I was clicking around the TV set and landed on Channel 28, the Public station in Los Angeles. There, in black and white, was a film that started with what were then 9-year-old-rock acts readying themselves for a show. Jan and Dean, The Miracles, The Supreme,s The Stones, and James Brown were all shown in various states of preparation. Then the opening titles flashed: The TAMI Show, teenage music international. Having an affection for the music of my much older siblings, who'd come of age between '64-to-'68, I lay on my stomach, propped myself up by the elbows, and watched the show.
What stood out on that night was James Brown. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My inner monologue was riddled with questions. "Is he having a nervous breakdown? Those guys are trying to take him off stage...what? He's running back? Are guys in white coats gonna strap him to a gurney and haul him away?" By the time he strutted, exhausted, off the stage, I was laughing, having seen the most remarkable act of my tween-aged life.
The next Monday, back in my 9th grade, fourth period class, I was listening to a guy we actually called "James Brown" because of he worshipped The Godfather of Soul. In his stammering way, he tried to describe J.B.'s show at the L.A. Sports Arena. Coincidentally, he'd appeared in L.A. the same night the public TV station ran the Tami Show. I joined the discussion and added how Brown's minions would drape the emotionally drained singer with a cape...to no avail. Brown would whip off the cape, leap back to the microphone, and fall to his knees with a wail of soul-searing anguish.
Crestfallen, the kid who worshipped the Godfather of Soul looked at me with baleful eyes. "Were you at the Sports Arena, Saturday?"
"No," I told him. "I saw a 9 year old show on Channel 28." I don't know which answer would have hurt him more--that I'd perhaps had seen the show, or that I saw something on TV that he'd missed because he may or may not have been out stealing a car.
I never forgot The Tami Show. As the years went by, bits and pieces, a performance here, a performance there, various clips of some of the acts, but not all, would find their way to TV, movie screens, and bootlegged video. In 1974, Dick Clark dedicated 90 minutes of ABC late night time to a ten-year retrospective, where he forewarned girls who'd been in the audience, "Don't look now ladies, you're nearing 30." Later, he described Lesley Gore's 1964 hairstyle as having "...been sprayed on with gunnite."
Now that The TAMI Show is on DVD, it can be seen in its entirety. A two-hour film, released over the holidays as 1964 ended, The TAMI Show was shot by television cameras, recorded on high-speed video tape. They called the process Electronovision. It would allow for a higher resolution, once transferred to a 35 millimeter print for theatres.
The acts hit the stage at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium for shows on Friday October 28th and Saturday October 29th, 1964, before an audience of teens. Producers asked local schools to distribute the 2500 tickets. It was the Saturday show that made it to the screen.
In alphabetical order, screaming kids from Santa Monica watched The Beach Boys, Chuck Berry, the aforementioned Godfather or Soul, The Barbarians (a Massachusetts group that we'd now call a garage band) Marvin Gaye, Gerry and The Pacemakers, Lesley Gore, Billy J. Kramer and The Dakotas, Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, The Supremes, The Rolling Stones, and hosts Jan and Dean.
Uncredited were a slew of dancers who frugged, monkyed and jerked through the whole show. Among them was a teen-aged Antonia Basilerro, who later danced her way to the charts as Toni Basil, and a tall, leggy, alluring blonde who was workin' herself into a frenzy. She would later "roll in the hay" as a damsel in "Young Frankenstein," and gain an Oscar nomination for her 1983 role in "Tootsie." When you watch The TAMI Show, keep an eye peeled for her: 20-year-old Teri Garr. At one point, the dancers boogie right through The Supremes act, and there are two future Oscar nominees as young women, facing each other--Teri Garr and Diana Ross.
In fact, the entire show's a black and white snapshot of some of our greatest artists on the verge of super stardom. The exception would be Chuck Berry, who starts the show. He was already a legend. The DVD notes point out it was Berry's penchant for demanding his pay in cash, just prior to performing, that ate up the show's petty cash on hand. The Four Seasons had asked for too much money, otherwise (save The Beatles) even more stars would have shaken the auditorium to its rafters. What an evening. One of rock and roll's tender years frozen in amber, all captured on film. You should watch it, then view Monterrey Pop to understand just how music and the world would change between 1964 and 1967. The contrast will give you whiplash.
There's so much to see. The unbridled joy on the face of Gerry Marsden of Gerry and The Pacemakers, his guitar poised just under his chin. You'll never see an artist smile so much while singing. Even though it was 45 years ago, you can feel the verve of youth surge from the screen.
The Beach Boys harmonies and surf guitars are as flawless on stage as they are on record, astounding when you consider how many of today's acts must lipsync. It was, however, these very songs that caused the Beach Boys management to snip their set from future theatrical releases of The TAMI Show. By the time "Pet Sounds" was being recorded, they no longer wanted to be typed as the "surf and hot rod" band. It's only on this DVD that their entire TAMI performance is seen once more.
The Motown acts on the bill had just come off the road. Smokey told Dick Clark on that ABC-TV retrospective in 1974, "...I was hoarse." That's an understatement. The Miracles demonstration of The Monkey makes up for it. For that matter, a shot of Teri Garr doing The Monkey in tight jeans is worth it, too, bless her heart. Lauren Bacall was right: film is forever. Thus, so is beauty.
Marvin Gaye was backed up by Darlene Love and the Blossoms, and actually danced. Long after his passing, Motown associates would reveal how difficult that was, because, "Marvin...could NOT dance." The Supremes were resplendent in evening wear, two hits into a string of ten number ones in a row over 1964-65. Lesley Gore was the queen of the hop with a six song set. From a historical perspective, she was the leading female artist of the time.
Gerry and The Pacemakers and Billy J. Kramer and The Dakotas were overseen by the Beatles manager, Brian Epstein, so they came as a package deal. The Pacemakers opened the show and traded songs with Chuck Berry, quite an honor, as British bands revered early rock and roll and R & B performers.
Then there was James Brown. Forget the dated portions of this film--the big hair, the quaint, harmless frugging and twisting, and the distorted monaural sound. J.B. superseded all of that. He's a study in showmanship that's almost vaudevillian. I cannot emphasise too strongly the impact of this performance. When James died, clips of this night were shown in tribute, everywhere. Years before, another generation of singer-dancers paid homage to his TAMI Show set. Prince had it run on a continuous loop in the lobby of his Paisley Park offices in Minneapolis. Hammer danced along to it in a 1990 music video.
And who had the thankless job of following this tour de force on stage at The TAMI Show? The Rolling Stones. Producers had insisted that The Stones be last on the bill. Relative newbies from across the pond, they were faced with the unenviable task of coming on after J.B. . As the years passed, they would, of course, perfect their stage act as "the World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band." But on The TAMI Show, Mick Jagger's Brown-inspired, improvised moves look like those of a child who needs to pee--arms flailing, knees wobbling, hopping, jumping, generally having a fit. Their musician ship ruled...the choreography would get better. Not that the kids cared, that night. The screaming didn't stop.
Until The TAMI Show, rock and rollers were seen almost exclusively lipsyncing on dance shows like American Bandstand, or doing a live song or two as a guest on Ed Sullivan, or one of the many other variety shows of the era. This film set the standard for concert and concert films.
And the only thing today that comes close to the long-lost American myth of innocence, all that could come close to the good-time teen groove of The TAMI Show, would be something from the Disney Channel roster of acts. If you don't believe me, connect the dots. Hannah Montana, The Jonas Brothers, screaming tweens and harmlessness.
And if you're over 45, watch the TAMI Show, experience a world we once knew, and know that when you see James Brown, you will have seen nothing like it, before or since.
CLUSTER UPDATE, KARMA, AND CAREY MULLIGAN
My thanks to all who wrote or called. This cluster is over. New pain relief has been prescribed. Let's hope another four years passed before it strikes again.
Also, good friend Craig Gross's daughter Karma is now two and a half months old. Born on February 15th. Man, time passes fast!
And finally, lest you think my eye for the alluring is lost in '64, admiring Teri Garr in her youth:
Carey Mulligan of "An Education," is half my age. So what? That dimple knocks me out! So does her smooth British purring. Ya gotta call 'em like you see 'em.
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