As I mentioned a year ago (and my, how time flies: see Chic-chic-ky-boom) my initial plummet into radio started as a newsreader during what would have been the fall semester of 1994, evidently a rainy season where we were (more on that in a moment). The news broadcasts would eventually go through many changes during my four years as an undergraduate, something I knew would (or should) happen. Gee – even as a freshman, and even when I had no authority on such things, I evidently was looking to improve some aspect of the station. Troublemaker, wasn't I?
Well, not that "big" of changes. I mean, you would think there would be some sort of programming element – a zinging sound effect or a transitional music bed – to signify that the station is taking a break from loud music to educate the community on current events. Nope. Essentially, once the music was over and those recorded spots had played, the "morning show" DJ (and I use the term "morning show" very loosely) pointed through the glass into the "newsroom" (and I use that term loosely, too) and both people on either side of the glass hoped they were ready. If you weren't paying attention to the time, and if the DJ didn't remind you, you might have a matter of seconds to get behind the mic – and then forget about a practice read. If you missed the cue and looked up a split second later chances were there was dead air. Finally a voice would crack in and, for three days a week, it was me.
As you’d expect those first few weeks of my one three-minute news report every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday morning did not readily feature a confident newsreader. The only way to get more confidence was to get more experience and perhaps it was wise of me that I did sign-up for three shifts. After a few weeks I got into the routine, understanding my place in the station and how to compose a decent script (even if it was four brief stories of no local merit).
Anyway: on to the rain. There had been showers over the weekend and talk was of more on the way. Lots more. When I left for the communication building Monday morning it was already coming down nicely, and I made it the lead "local story" during the 7 a.m. news update. It was during that hour that my day changed. All that water from the previous days had collected in the low-lying areas; now, as more rain fell, all this water had nowhere to go. Flooding was eminent. First the station got reports of flooded low-water crossings and then high-water crossings and then calls came in about school closures. Then the big news: the university would be closed for the day, maybe some of the next, too. I dutifully forwarded each note to Hodge-Podge and Bandito and asked if it was okay to stick around for an 8 o'clock update. Sure. Whatever. I stayed there all morning in fact, giving my last update at 10 a.m. before deciding I had done enough. When all was said and done the county had over fourteen inches of water and I had logged more hours that day than usual. Those that noticed thanked me for sticking around, which probably led to my inability to leave in the impending years.
At home, the news that day showed all the flooding and its results: people stranded on rooftops, cars washed away, and creek beds that had been bone dry a week ago were now in full rage. Also, fish were shown floating in places where fish shouldn't be, which is what reminded me of this album cover, one I recalled seeing in the music library some years later. It may have been one of those albums used for the Pit show (see Kill the Crow), but I don’t know. In fact, aside from the fact that the Inspiral Carpets were from England, I don't know much the band at all (except that they're named for a clothing shop in their native Manchester).
All in all, certainly a flood of experience for me one October morning.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Here Comes the Flood
(Inspiral Carpets)
Inspiral Carpets
From the album Revenge of the Goldfish
1992
The sky is red, and the sea is blue
God made the distance between me and you
Always walking the tightrope, always walking the line
Placing your head in the lion's jaws
HERE COMES THE FLOOD, IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN
HERE COMES THE FLOOD, IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN
FLOOD, FLOOD, HERE COMES THE FLOOD
Watching your river turn into an ocean
Sailing your ship off the edge of the world
Watching the sail as it carries you on
The wind twists like lovers in each other's arms
HERE COMES THE FLOOD, IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN
HERE COMES THE FLOOD, IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN
FLOOD (IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN)
FLOOD (IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN)
FLOOD, HERE COMES THE FLOOD
This is my future and this is my past
And they meet in the middle of nowhere
Won't you lend me a hand, stuck out in nowhereland
Waiting for someone to hear me
HERE COMES THE FLOOD, IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN
HERE COMES THE FLOOD, IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN
FLOOD (IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN)
FLOOD (IT'S JUST WASHING YOU DOWN)
FLOOD, HERE COMES THE FLOOD
Oh, here comes the flood, here comes the flood
Here comes the flood (7x)
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
You know I’d like to believe this nervousness will pass
There was a public service announcement (PSA) in rotation for years at the undergraduate station that featured a young wispy-voiced individual that spoke of being timid and unsure of himself – “girls wouldn’t give me the time of day. Hey, Julie! Do you have the time?” A valley-girl-like voice chimed back, a clearly delivered and aloof, “SHUT UP!” What made an already an oddly amusing and memorable PSA even more so was the “boy” changed once he signed up for Selective Service. Overnight his voice lowered an octave or two and he said he felt more responsible and mature. Plus, Julie had time for the kid, whose name was revealed to be Brad. Needless to say, Brad’s frequent encounter with Julie ran for many years and for many reasons – partly because the PSA had no set termination schedule and partly because “young Brad” sounded like some of the DJs. Also thanks to its longevity came various attempts to parody its simplistic two-voice approach at humor.
My part in this came in the form of a promo for the station’s modern rock programming featuring a nervous, wimpy-voiced kid who admitted he used to listen to far inferior music before “overnight” switching to a more mature voice and level of musicality. Of course we needed “inferior” music for “Brad” to reference and I came up with an unlikely trio: Whitesnake, Europe, and Seven Mary Three. Why?
Let’s see: I had found an old Whitesnake 12” single in the music library archives earlier in my career at the station and made a point of annoying others by hanging the sleeve (featuring an unsettling tryin’-to-look-tuff photo of the band) on the office wall. This probably paved the way for my short-lived usage of David Coverdale as a punch-line (see Escher Sketch (A Tale of Two Rhythms)). Europe hadn’t been lampooned in a while and I’m not sure why they popped into mind, but I would later use their popular Final Countdown album for another humorous bit at the station.
Seven Mary Three was a Virginia-based band that formed in 1992 by Jason Ross and Jason Pollock. After signing on a full-fledged band, the group migrated to Florida where they soon had a fluke hit that caught the ear of a record company big wig. Soon thereafter Cumbersome went from a regional hit to the national airwaves as featured on their 1995 album, American Standard.
I’m pretty sure the reason for naming them in my promo had to do with my observation of how people I worked with felt about the band – a very love-them or hate-them attitude. Some people thought the song was okay and liked the band’s sound, while detractors loathed that sound, especially when featured in a 4-minute song appropriately named Cumbersome. Maybe that was part of the joke, an inadvertent way for people to poke some fun at the band. I do know one of the reasons I chose them was that for all the fans who spoke so highly of them, the station never heard anything other than Cumbersome from them. We never got another song from them, much less any sort of album, and so we all thought of them as nothing more than a glorified one-hit wonder.
My only other memory was thinking that at some point it would be funny to redo the song as a disco tune. Yes, I envisioned Cumbersome sung to the tune of Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive. Can’t you hear it: “And I’ve become – cum-cum-cumbersome.....”
Maybe not.
No clue, either, as to the status of Brad and Julie, or even the PSA. I would like to think it graduated long ago (and it probably has) but you sort of wish they'd have a reunion some time.
Right. Maybe not.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Cumbersome
(Pollock, J./J.A. Ross)
Seven Mary Three
From the album American Standard
1995
She calls me goliath and I wear the David mask
I guess the stones are coming too fast for her now
You know I’d like to believe this nervousness will pass
All the stones that are thrown are building up a wall
I have become cumbersome to this world
I have become cumbersome to my girl
I’d like to believe we could reconcile the past
Resurrect those bridges with an ancient glance
But my old stone face can’t seem to break her down
She remembers bridges, burns them to the ground
I have become cumbersome to this world
I have become cumbersome to this girl
Too heavy too light, too black or too white, too wrong or too right, today or tonight
Cumbersome
Too rich too poor, she’s wanting me less and I’m wanting her more
The bitter taste is cumbersome
There is a balance between two worlds
One with an arrow and a cross
Regardless of the balance life has become
Cumbersome
My part in this came in the form of a promo for the station’s modern rock programming featuring a nervous, wimpy-voiced kid who admitted he used to listen to far inferior music before “overnight” switching to a more mature voice and level of musicality. Of course we needed “inferior” music for “Brad” to reference and I came up with an unlikely trio: Whitesnake, Europe, and Seven Mary Three. Why?
Let’s see: I had found an old Whitesnake 12” single in the music library archives earlier in my career at the station and made a point of annoying others by hanging the sleeve (featuring an unsettling tryin’-to-look-tuff photo of the band) on the office wall. This probably paved the way for my short-lived usage of David Coverdale as a punch-line (see Escher Sketch (A Tale of Two Rhythms)). Europe hadn’t been lampooned in a while and I’m not sure why they popped into mind, but I would later use their popular Final Countdown album for another humorous bit at the station.
Seven Mary Three was a Virginia-based band that formed in 1992 by Jason Ross and Jason Pollock. After signing on a full-fledged band, the group migrated to Florida where they soon had a fluke hit that caught the ear of a record company big wig. Soon thereafter Cumbersome went from a regional hit to the national airwaves as featured on their 1995 album, American Standard.
I’m pretty sure the reason for naming them in my promo had to do with my observation of how people I worked with felt about the band – a very love-them or hate-them attitude. Some people thought the song was okay and liked the band’s sound, while detractors loathed that sound, especially when featured in a 4-minute song appropriately named Cumbersome. Maybe that was part of the joke, an inadvertent way for people to poke some fun at the band. I do know one of the reasons I chose them was that for all the fans who spoke so highly of them, the station never heard anything other than Cumbersome from them. We never got another song from them, much less any sort of album, and so we all thought of them as nothing more than a glorified one-hit wonder.
My only other memory was thinking that at some point it would be funny to redo the song as a disco tune. Yes, I envisioned Cumbersome sung to the tune of Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive. Can’t you hear it: “And I’ve become – cum-cum-cumbersome.....”
Maybe not.
No clue, either, as to the status of Brad and Julie, or even the PSA. I would like to think it graduated long ago (and it probably has) but you sort of wish they'd have a reunion some time.
Right. Maybe not.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Cumbersome
(Pollock, J./J.A. Ross)
Seven Mary Three
From the album American Standard
1995
She calls me goliath and I wear the David mask
I guess the stones are coming too fast for her now
You know I’d like to believe this nervousness will pass
All the stones that are thrown are building up a wall
I have become cumbersome to this world
I have become cumbersome to my girl
I’d like to believe we could reconcile the past
Resurrect those bridges with an ancient glance
But my old stone face can’t seem to break her down
She remembers bridges, burns them to the ground
I have become cumbersome to this world
I have become cumbersome to this girl
Too heavy too light, too black or too white, too wrong or too right, today or tonight
Cumbersome
Too rich too poor, she’s wanting me less and I’m wanting her more
The bitter taste is cumbersome
There is a balance between two worlds
One with an arrow and a cross
Regardless of the balance life has become
Cumbersome
Sunday, April 22, 2007
It's a party in a cahn!
Shortly after school was out for the summer (probably in 1997) I received a package in the mail. It turned out to be from one of my cohorts at the (undergraduate) station who had sent along a videocassette. Most noticeable was how light the tape was – turned out to be one of those short five-minute-maximum jobs that the college television station used to get with public service announcements or the like. A brief note indicated that what was on the tape was something I would probably find right up my alley.
Turns out the videotape contained only a 30-second commercial for something called Jooky that, I have to admit, I found pretty darn funny. Jooky was apparently some sort of festive carbonated beverage (possibly purple in color) that was being consumed in mass quantities on a beach. Its music was set to a pseudo-Caribbean/calypso beat with lyrics sung in an annoying wannabe Jamaican accent. In short, the advertisement set off to do what most beverage commercials do and that is prove that consumers would have better lives with a beverage (e.g. Jooky) than without. The ad featured the sort of riff-raff you'd expect to find inhabiting a beach: body builders, volleyball players, hula dancers at a luau, and people on surfboards – all showing off just how damned great their life was since being prescribed Jooky.
Ah, but wait – something is amiss. A slight distortion of the screen reveals the commercial is actually being watched by two gangly youths who look like stunt doubles for Wayne’s World III. It turns out they want in on that Jooky action, too, but alas not everything is as it seems and whatever hope they have fizzles away like the carbonation in a…well…open can of soda. Also, this commercial is a mildly ingenuous hoax by the Coca-Cola Company and Sprite, who is reminding whatever consumer base there is that looks are truly unimportant, it’s what is inside the product that really makes it special - just by being its own self. Sort of sounds like a homily from Fred Rogers, doesn’t it?
The original Jooky commercial garnered enough recognition to justify a sequel of sorts, this one selling “Jooky Junk” –meaningless trinkets you can order by sending in Jooky cans. You know, crucial items like a Jooky caulking gun, a Jooky hernia belt, and a Jooky Sea Captain.
Jooky went on to be on a number of people’s radar back at the radio station but disappeared as the years went by. I’m somewhat surprised Jooky didn’t make another appearance, officially or otherwise.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Jooky Theme
(unknown)
Produced for the Coca-Cola Co./Sprite Brand by Lowe & Partners/SMS
1997
Just open up a Jooky
It's a party in a cahn
Jooky is so fun and fruity
You'll be dancing in the sand
Jooky make you really kooky
Jooky make you manly, mahn!
Jooky! Jooky!
It's a party in a cahn
Jooky! Jooky!
Ah, the fun's right in the your hand....
Turns out the videotape contained only a 30-second commercial for something called Jooky that, I have to admit, I found pretty darn funny. Jooky was apparently some sort of festive carbonated beverage (possibly purple in color) that was being consumed in mass quantities on a beach. Its music was set to a pseudo-Caribbean/calypso beat with lyrics sung in an annoying wannabe Jamaican accent. In short, the advertisement set off to do what most beverage commercials do and that is prove that consumers would have better lives with a beverage (e.g. Jooky) than without. The ad featured the sort of riff-raff you'd expect to find inhabiting a beach: body builders, volleyball players, hula dancers at a luau, and people on surfboards – all showing off just how damned great their life was since being prescribed Jooky.
Ah, but wait – something is amiss. A slight distortion of the screen reveals the commercial is actually being watched by two gangly youths who look like stunt doubles for Wayne’s World III. It turns out they want in on that Jooky action, too, but alas not everything is as it seems and whatever hope they have fizzles away like the carbonation in a…well…open can of soda. Also, this commercial is a mildly ingenuous hoax by the Coca-Cola Company and Sprite, who is reminding whatever consumer base there is that looks are truly unimportant, it’s what is inside the product that really makes it special - just by being its own self. Sort of sounds like a homily from Fred Rogers, doesn’t it?
The original Jooky commercial garnered enough recognition to justify a sequel of sorts, this one selling “Jooky Junk” –meaningless trinkets you can order by sending in Jooky cans. You know, crucial items like a Jooky caulking gun, a Jooky hernia belt, and a Jooky Sea Captain.
Jooky went on to be on a number of people’s radar back at the radio station but disappeared as the years went by. I’m somewhat surprised Jooky didn’t make another appearance, officially or otherwise.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Jooky Theme
(unknown)
Produced for the Coca-Cola Co./Sprite Brand by Lowe & Partners/SMS
1997
Just open up a Jooky
It's a party in a cahn
Jooky is so fun and fruity
You'll be dancing in the sand
Jooky make you really kooky
Jooky make you manly, mahn!
Jooky! Jooky!
It's a party in a cahn
Jooky! Jooky!
Ah, the fun's right in the your hand....
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Maybe it’s a fashion, maybe it’s a trend
Uh...so, okay – this guy, Chris Gaines, evidently confused a lot of people back in September 1999 when Capitol Records announced they were releasing the greatest hits album of this supposed Grammy Award winning artist. I seem to recall thinking it might have been fun to go trick-or-treating as Gaines that year – must have been a fleeting thought because I'm fairly sure I didn’t. Just as strange, I didn't recall him winning a Grammy in 1989. The only thing fake that came out of 1989 the best I can recall was Milli Vanilli and we all know what happened there. Would anyone protest if someone "discovered" a popular pop-country artist was performing Gaines' voice? Even though Gaines' bio says he's been doing "something" since 1967, back in '99 he was a relative newcomer to the world of music and possibly the world of reality.
All right: long story short (an epically narcissistic story short), Gaines is the alternative rock persona of country artist Garth Brooks, which may have been immediately apparent at the time, I don't recall. I remember wondering why we needed made-up "local boy makes good" stories when there were plenty of sorrow-drenched lives out there already making real music for their just-as-real fans. Maybe all of this would have made more sense had the associated movie gotten the green light (yippy…). This Gaines CD was to double as the soundtrack to The Lamb: the life and times of Chris Gaines but because of time, money, or interest (or a combination of all three) the film never made it to the big screen. Digging around the Backsells archives I found this quote of The Artist Formerly Known As Garth identifying with the Gaines character:
"To me, the character ... hasn't been a 6"1', 225-pound guy. If I do play it, I'm gonna need to lose an ass and a half.''
I guess if you are at a slum in your career you go off to dark corner and make something, or someone, up.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Right Now
(Chester Powers/Cheryl Wheeler )
Chris Gaines
From the album In the Life of Chris Gaines
1999
Maybe it’s the movies, maybe it’s the books
Maybe it’s the government and all the other crooks
Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s the parents
Maybe it’s the gangs, or the colors that we’re wearin'
Maybe it’s the high schools, maybe it’s the teachers
Tattoos, pipe bombs underneath the bleachers
Maybe it’s the music, maybe it’s the crack
Maybe it’s the bible, or could it be the lack
Come on people, now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another, right now...right now
Okay, maybe it’s the papers, maybe it’s the family
Maybe it’s the internet, radio, TV
Maybe it’s the president, maybe it’s the last one
Maybe it’s the one before that
Maybe it’s the athletes, maybe it’s the dads
Maybe it’s the sports fans, agents, fads
Maybe it’s the homeless, aliens, immigrants
Maybe it’s life, don’t tell me that it’s imminent
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
You gotta love one another
Maybe it’s the fallout, maybe it’s the ozone
Maybe it’s the chemicals, the radiation, cell phones
Maybe it’s the magazines, maybe it the next page
Lotteries, fast food, bad news, road rage
Maybe it the unions, big business
Maybe it’s the KKK and the skinheads
Maybe it’s the daughters, maybe it’s the sons
Maybe it’s the brothers of the mothers or the guns
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
(You know, if we don’t talk about it
It ain’t gonna get better)
We gotta love one another
(So, whadda say, let’s talk)
Maybe it’s the parks, maybe it’s the sex
Maybe it’s the talk shows, maybe it’s a reflex
Maybe it’s the taxes, maybe it’s the system
Judges, lawyers, prisons
Maybe it’s the Catholics, maybe it’s the Protestants
Maybe it’s the addicts, and the hippies and communists
Maybe it’s a fashion, maybe it’s a trend
Maybe it’s the future... maybe it’s the end
All right: long story short (an epically narcissistic story short), Gaines is the alternative rock persona of country artist Garth Brooks, which may have been immediately apparent at the time, I don't recall. I remember wondering why we needed made-up "local boy makes good" stories when there were plenty of sorrow-drenched lives out there already making real music for their just-as-real fans. Maybe all of this would have made more sense had the associated movie gotten the green light (yippy…). This Gaines CD was to double as the soundtrack to The Lamb: the life and times of Chris Gaines but because of time, money, or interest (or a combination of all three) the film never made it to the big screen. Digging around the Backsells archives I found this quote of The Artist Formerly Known As Garth identifying with the Gaines character:
"To me, the character ... hasn't been a 6"1', 225-pound guy. If I do play it, I'm gonna need to lose an ass and a half.''
I guess if you are at a slum in your career you go off to dark corner and make something, or someone, up.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Right Now
(Chester Powers/Cheryl Wheeler )
Chris Gaines
From the album In the Life of Chris Gaines
1999
Maybe it’s the movies, maybe it’s the books
Maybe it’s the government and all the other crooks
Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s the parents
Maybe it’s the gangs, or the colors that we’re wearin'
Maybe it’s the high schools, maybe it’s the teachers
Tattoos, pipe bombs underneath the bleachers
Maybe it’s the music, maybe it’s the crack
Maybe it’s the bible, or could it be the lack
Come on people, now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another, right now...right now
Okay, maybe it’s the papers, maybe it’s the family
Maybe it’s the internet, radio, TV
Maybe it’s the president, maybe it’s the last one
Maybe it’s the one before that
Maybe it’s the athletes, maybe it’s the dads
Maybe it’s the sports fans, agents, fads
Maybe it’s the homeless, aliens, immigrants
Maybe it’s life, don’t tell me that it’s imminent
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
You gotta love one another
Maybe it’s the fallout, maybe it’s the ozone
Maybe it’s the chemicals, the radiation, cell phones
Maybe it’s the magazines, maybe it the next page
Lotteries, fast food, bad news, road rage
Maybe it the unions, big business
Maybe it’s the KKK and the skinheads
Maybe it’s the daughters, maybe it’s the sons
Maybe it’s the brothers of the mothers or the guns
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
(You know, if we don’t talk about it
It ain’t gonna get better)
We gotta love one another
(So, whadda say, let’s talk)
Maybe it’s the parks, maybe it’s the sex
Maybe it’s the talk shows, maybe it’s a reflex
Maybe it’s the taxes, maybe it’s the system
Judges, lawyers, prisons
Maybe it’s the Catholics, maybe it’s the Protestants
Maybe it’s the addicts, and the hippies and communists
Maybe it’s a fashion, maybe it’s a trend
Maybe it’s the future... maybe it’s the end
Sunday, April 8, 2007
I wanna *poink* you like an animal
Alfred Yankovic has been making, and remaking, music for three decades and I really don't think the guy's gotten stale – although I must admit some of what he's recently been poking fun at is a bit out of my vocabulary (meaning I don't know anything about Avril Lavigne or Disturbed yet I still hum Men Without Hats' songs).
This album, like most of his recorded output, is a sort of a pop culture state of the union, an aural time capsule of good, bad, and ugly trends and tastes (again with the Men Without Hats). Bad Hair Day album covered the mid-90s and most of the songs, or style of songs featured, were those we at the undergraduate station were very knowing of after playing them time and time again: Soul Asylum, TLC, Foo Fighters, Coolio, and more. After giving it a few spins at home, I brought the disc in to the station so others could appreciate a satirist's taste of the stuff we were spewing and, as expected, everyone loved it – to the point that disc lived at the station for a while.
I was a tad surprised to learn that one of the DJs did in fact pull it out of the music library and into the control room the following month for an attempt at an April's Fool joke. Yankovic's music fits in the "rock" genre, which the undergraduate station inundated the airwaves with from three o'clock until midnight. Obviously by the time 11:50 PM rolls around, the last DJ of the day is winding down the music and getting ready to shut things down for the day. The April's Fool joke of this DJ, then, was to play upon the observation that after the last stopset of the day, roughly 11:50, there would be about ten minutes of music played before the station signed the transmitter off. There was no readily way for him to fit in "requested" Nine Inch Nails, some Beck, R.E.M., Sheryl Crow's All I Want To Do, plus more, in that short a time span.
Of course, there was time.
Thanks to Weird Al and his melody of alternative rock staples titled, appropriately enough, The Alternative Polka, we were able to get all those excellent artists and more more compressed into five minutes of either sing-along silliness or nerve-racking annoyances that was probably the last thing our listening audience expected us to ever air.
Boy, college-run stations could be fun.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Alternative Polka
(Beck/Karl Stephenson; Dean DeLeo/Eric Kretz/Scott Weiland; David Baerwald/Bill Bottrell/Wyn Cooper/Sheryl Crow/Kevin Gilbert; Trent Reznor; Bill Berry/Peter Buck/Mike Mills/Michael Stipe; Glen Ballard/Alanis Morissette; Billy Corgan; Flea/Anthony Kiedis/Dave Navarro/Chad Smith; Dave Grohl; Chris Cornell; Billie Joe Armstrong/Green Day; Yankovic)
"Weird Al"Yankovic
From the album Bad Hair Day
1996
["Loser" by Beck]
Soy un perdidor
I'm a loser, baby,
So why don't you kill me?
Soy un perdidor
I'm a loser, baby,
So why don't you kill me?
Hey!
["Sex Type Thing" by Stone Temple Pilots]
I am I am I am
I said I wanna get next to you.
I said I'm gonna get close to you.
You wouldn't want me have to hurt you, too.
Hurt you, too.
I know you want what's on my mind.
I know you like what's on my mind.
I know it eats you up inside.
I know you know, you know, you know.
Here I come I come I come I come.
Here I come I come I come.
["All I Want To Do" by Sheryl Crow]
All I wanna do is have some fun.
I gotta feeling I'm not the only one.
All I wanna do is have some fun.
I gotta feeling I'm not the only one.
All I wanna do is have some fun.
Until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.
["Closer" by NIN]
Help me--I broke apart my insides.
Help me--I've got no soul to sell.
Help me--The only thing that works for me.
Help me get away from myself.
I wanna *poink* you like an animal.
I wanna feel you from the inside.
I wanna *boing* you like an animal.
My whole existence is flawed.
You get me closer to God.
Hey! Hey! Hey!
["Bang and Blame" by REM]
You bang bang bang bang bang.
Blame blame blame.
You bang bang bang bang bang.
It's not my thing so let it go.
["You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morisette]
'Cause the love that you gave every day wasn't able
to make it enough for you to be open wide
No!
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me
You'd hold me until you died?
'Til you died.
Well you're still alive!
And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away.
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me.
You-ou-ou-ou-ou oughta know!
Hey!
["Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by Smashing Pumpkins]
Despite all my rage,
I am still just a rat in a cage!
Despite all my rage,
I am still just a rat in a cage!
And someone will say
What is lost can never be saved.
Despite all my rage,
I am still just a rat in a cage!
["My Friends" by Red Hot Chili Peppers]
I love all of you
Hurt by the cold.
So hard and lonely, too
When you don't know yourself.
["I'll Stick Around" by Foo Fighters]
I don't owe you anything!
I don't owe you anything!
I don't owe you anything!
I don't owe you anything!
["Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden]
Black Hole Sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black Hole Sun
Won't you come, won't you come
Black Hole Sun, Black Hole Sun
Won't you come
Black Hole Sun, Black Hole Sun
Won't you come
Black Hole Sun, Black Hole Sun
["Basket Case" by Green Day]
Do you have the time
To listen to me whine
About nothing and everything all at once?
I am one those melodramatic fools.
Neurotic to the bone,
No doubt about it.
Sometimes I give myself the creeps!
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me!
It all keeps adding up.
I think I'm cracking up.
And am I just paranoid
Or am I just stoned?
Or am I just stoned-oh-oh-oh-oh-ned?
Hey!
["Ear Booker Polka" by Al Yankovic]
This album, like most of his recorded output, is a sort of a pop culture state of the union, an aural time capsule of good, bad, and ugly trends and tastes (again with the Men Without Hats). Bad Hair Day album covered the mid-90s and most of the songs, or style of songs featured, were those we at the undergraduate station were very knowing of after playing them time and time again: Soul Asylum, TLC, Foo Fighters, Coolio, and more. After giving it a few spins at home, I brought the disc in to the station so others could appreciate a satirist's taste of the stuff we were spewing and, as expected, everyone loved it – to the point that disc lived at the station for a while.
I was a tad surprised to learn that one of the DJs did in fact pull it out of the music library and into the control room the following month for an attempt at an April's Fool joke. Yankovic's music fits in the "rock" genre, which the undergraduate station inundated the airwaves with from three o'clock until midnight. Obviously by the time 11:50 PM rolls around, the last DJ of the day is winding down the music and getting ready to shut things down for the day. The April's Fool joke of this DJ, then, was to play upon the observation that after the last stopset of the day, roughly 11:50, there would be about ten minutes of music played before the station signed the transmitter off. There was no readily way for him to fit in "requested" Nine Inch Nails, some Beck, R.E.M., Sheryl Crow's All I Want To Do, plus more, in that short a time span.
Of course, there was time.
Thanks to Weird Al and his melody of alternative rock staples titled, appropriately enough, The Alternative Polka, we were able to get all those excellent artists and more more compressed into five minutes of either sing-along silliness or nerve-racking annoyances that was probably the last thing our listening audience expected us to ever air.
Boy, college-run stations could be fun.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Alternative Polka
(Beck/Karl Stephenson; Dean DeLeo/Eric Kretz/Scott Weiland; David Baerwald/Bill Bottrell/Wyn Cooper/Sheryl Crow/Kevin Gilbert; Trent Reznor; Bill Berry/Peter Buck/Mike Mills/Michael Stipe; Glen Ballard/Alanis Morissette; Billy Corgan; Flea/Anthony Kiedis/Dave Navarro/Chad Smith; Dave Grohl; Chris Cornell; Billie Joe Armstrong/Green Day; Yankovic)
"Weird Al"Yankovic
From the album Bad Hair Day
1996
["Loser" by Beck]
Soy un perdidor
I'm a loser, baby,
So why don't you kill me?
Soy un perdidor
I'm a loser, baby,
So why don't you kill me?
Hey!
["Sex Type Thing" by Stone Temple Pilots]
I am I am I am
I said I wanna get next to you.
I said I'm gonna get close to you.
You wouldn't want me have to hurt you, too.
Hurt you, too.
I know you want what's on my mind.
I know you like what's on my mind.
I know it eats you up inside.
I know you know, you know, you know.
Here I come I come I come I come.
Here I come I come I come.
["All I Want To Do" by Sheryl Crow]
All I wanna do is have some fun.
I gotta feeling I'm not the only one.
All I wanna do is have some fun.
I gotta feeling I'm not the only one.
All I wanna do is have some fun.
Until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.
["Closer" by NIN]
Help me--I broke apart my insides.
Help me--I've got no soul to sell.
Help me--The only thing that works for me.
Help me get away from myself.
I wanna *poink* you like an animal.
I wanna feel you from the inside.
I wanna *boing* you like an animal.
My whole existence is flawed.
You get me closer to God.
Hey! Hey! Hey!
["Bang and Blame" by REM]
You bang bang bang bang bang.
Blame blame blame.
You bang bang bang bang bang.
It's not my thing so let it go.
["You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morisette]
'Cause the love that you gave every day wasn't able
to make it enough for you to be open wide
No!
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me
You'd hold me until you died?
'Til you died.
Well you're still alive!
And I'm here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away.
It's not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me.
You-ou-ou-ou-ou oughta know!
Hey!
["Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by Smashing Pumpkins]
Despite all my rage,
I am still just a rat in a cage!
Despite all my rage,
I am still just a rat in a cage!
And someone will say
What is lost can never be saved.
Despite all my rage,
I am still just a rat in a cage!
["My Friends" by Red Hot Chili Peppers]
I love all of you
Hurt by the cold.
So hard and lonely, too
When you don't know yourself.
["I'll Stick Around" by Foo Fighters]
I don't owe you anything!
I don't owe you anything!
I don't owe you anything!
I don't owe you anything!
["Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden]
Black Hole Sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black Hole Sun
Won't you come, won't you come
Black Hole Sun, Black Hole Sun
Won't you come
Black Hole Sun, Black Hole Sun
Won't you come
Black Hole Sun, Black Hole Sun
["Basket Case" by Green Day]
Do you have the time
To listen to me whine
About nothing and everything all at once?
I am one those melodramatic fools.
Neurotic to the bone,
No doubt about it.
Sometimes I give myself the creeps!
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me!
It all keeps adding up.
I think I'm cracking up.
And am I just paranoid
Or am I just stoned?
Or am I just stoned-oh-oh-oh-oh-ned?
Hey!
["Ear Booker Polka" by Al Yankovic]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)