I'm having a good time, patching holes in my head

If you've ever seen the Red Elvises then you probably remember them as the group that had the red triangle thing that one guy plays as an instrument. That, and you've probably made the connection between "Red," in reference to old Russia, and "Elvis," for the rock-n-roll, in their moniker. Hailing from ex-Soviet states, the band began in California in the 1990s and has been together since in various incarnations and never really sagging in popularity. Of course, with a name like “Red Elvises” you expect that the band enjoys a good party.

I had never heard of them but a copy of I Wanna See You Belly Dance was in the main studio and it was revered as a good album by a lot of people on staff. I admit it wasn't my cup of tea, but I was usually not in the majority during my stint as station manager. Some of the station staff had some fun with their name, jokingly calling them Rush n' Radio, Red Can Too, Soviet Rock, Red Con Tiki, Czech it Out, and so on (I never got most of the names, but that’s me...). After a few listens I was able to appreciate it and thought the album wasn't bad. Still, I wasn't prepared for the roar of excitement that was to come when it was announced that the Red Elvises were touring the country and would be on campus during the spring semester. I had to chuckle at the bands that toured this backwater city - Luther Campbell's 2 Live Crew (two or three years prior to my time), Vanilla Ice (one or two years after my time, see This is a hell of a concept: we make it hype and you want to step with this), Garbage, and now the Red Elvises.

Now the Red Elvises were signed to play Spring Fest, some sort of collegiate-sponsored Saturday when all the student organizations met and setup in and around the football field. The radio station was there to cover the event, as well as broadcast from the event to allow others to see us in action. It was a given that I would have to help setup; I hung around after we got settled, even going on air a few times in what, I realize now, were probably some of my last live radio moments.

Paulie Zizzo was on the air for most of this Saturday, as he was every Saturday (see Cause it's home, the only life I've ever known). When his shift was over, though, he arrived on the scene and started interacting with the small crowd hanging around the remote equipment. Quickly I learned Paulie treated everyone as a friend and, for the most part, everyone treated him as one of his or her gang. He'd go and talk to one crowd of people, disappear, and then come back from another direction engrossed in discussion with someone else. Whether or not these people knew him well or just recognized him as the kid with the bizarre appearance is hard to say, but, long story short, Paulie was popular.

Here is where it got weird: toward the end of the event the mediocre music that had been playing for most of the day was replaced the loud, rocking sounds of the Red Elvises. Most of the events had wound down anyway, allowing things to turn into a large, outdoor concert. As we were done with the remote, I hauled things to my car – and stopped short when I saw Paulie dancing on stage with the Red Elvises. Talk about flashbacks to Woodstock: Paulie's interpretive dance consisted of swaying, air guitars, and free love. Well...not the free love – mostly just the swaying and air guitars.

I turned to Lois, the news director and part time DJ, as we packed and asked how Paulie ended up on stage. Unbeknownst to me, the previous night the Red Elvises had shown up at the station wanting to plug their show. Paulie had been hanging around...and one thing to led to another...and he was in. They recognized the Young Dude from the radio station and brought him up to the stage for a few numbers. As I said, he really knew how to fit in with people.

Of course, I then asked why I wasn't told the station had guests the night before – but that's another story.

Oh – the red, big triangle I mentioned earlier was a balalaika, a stringed musical instrument of Russian origin. It looked bigger than the guy playing it, a guy that a number of people dubbed Triangle Man. Triangle Man, Triangle Man, Triangle Man meets Young Dude Man. They have a dance, Triangle wins. Go figure, Young Dude Man.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Voodoo Doll
(Zhenya Kolykhanov)
The Red Elvises
From the album I Wanna See You Belly Dance
1998

Small voodoo doll, looks like me, that's what she's got in her hand,
Sitting and thinking what went wrong, how did we get to the end?
I say, small voodoo doll, don't touch my soul, let me rock'n'roll.

I'm having a good time, patching holes in my head,
I'm having a good time, can't get better than that,
I say, small voodoo doll, don't touch my soul, let me rock'n'roll.

There she goes, grabs a needle, shoves it through my heart,
I don't understand the way she giggles, I think she went little far,
I say, small voodoo doll, don't touch my soul, let me rock'n'roll.

I'm having a good time, patching holes in my head,
I'm having a good time, can't get better than that,
I say, small voodoo doll, don't touch my soul, let me rock'n'roll.

Give me something I can rely on

Here’s another of those songs that apparently came out of nowhere. I always assumed Monaco was popular somewhere – why else would it have been included on a weekly preview disc? Maybe we made it popular after our continuous airings? Well, at least popular to the campus listening audience. It certainly was somewhat popular with station staff, as I recall it found its way onto many 1997-era playlists, including mine on those occasions I filled in on the rock shifts.

While I liked the song I didn’t immediately understand its importance. Then down the road a bit I discovered that Monaco was a side project of Peter Hook. This tidbit meant precious little to me, until it was explained to me that Hook was a one-time member of New Order. This, then, surely explained why the overall affect of Monaco was lost on me. I knew very little about New Order. Those people on staff who had grown up with New Order and Joy Division were ecstatic about playing the bouncy pop tune. Some people, like myself, didn’t necessarily hate the song but found it didn’t have much of an effect on us - except for the galloping “Sha-la la la la-la la” chorus, easily the most memorable part of the song.

We didn't play any other Monaco songs because as far as we knew no others existed. As usual, it wasn't until writing this I discovered that Hook and band mate David Potts had released a second Monaco album in 2000. I was also previously unaware that Hook and Potts had worked together in Hook’s other project, Revenge, a few years prior to their Monaco years.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
What Do You Want from Me
( Peter Hook/David Potts)
Monaco
From the album Music for Pleasure
1997

Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la

There is one thing that I would die for
It's when you say: "My life is in your hands"
'Cause when you're near me your love is all I need
Now I can't imagine

What do you want from me
It's not how it used to be
You've taken my life away
Ruining everything

What do you want from me (sha-la la la la-la la)
It's not how it used to be (sha-la la la la-la la)
You've taken my life away (sha-la la la la-la la)
Ruining everything (sha-la la la la-la la)

Give me something I can rely on
Far away from the life that I once knew
What does it matter, that's all I have to say
And I can't imagine

What do you want from me
It's not how it used to be
You've taken my life away
Ruining everything

What do you want from me
It's not how it used to be
You've taken my life away
Ruining everything

Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la
Sha-la la la la-la la

(BREAK)

What do you want from me (sha-la la la la-la la)
It's not how it used to be (sha-la la la la-la la)
You've taken my life away (sha-la la la la-la la)
Ruining everything (sha-la la la la-la la)
(REPEAT TO FADE)

Cause it's home, the only life I've ever known

I’ve sort of mentioned the fun involved with students picking their music shift at my undergraduate station (see Let's flip the track, bring the old school back); at the station in my post-graduate days, they did it differently – and by a method that made more sense that anything we did when we were sophomores or seniors. Seniority – what a concept. There were x number of shifts (music, news, and sports) that had to be filled and y number of students in class. Each student was to pick one shift at a time, and those first to pick were those that had gone through this routine the longest. Paulie Zizzo, even in this mixed-up, muddled, shook-up world, managed to be one of the two or three students who had seniority (see We never got it off on that revolution stuff, what a drag too many snags).

When it came time for the students to pick their shifts, everyone knew what Paulie was going to choose (except me, but I was new and hadn’t heard him in action yet). I soon discovered that his usual shift was weekend Classic Hits. I inadvertently identified the shift as “Classic Rock” a few times that day and was steadily corrected by Paulie as to the true nature of the music. Was there really a difference? We played the same decades-old junk when I was an undergrad and we called it “Classic Rock.” The difference, I suppose, turned out to be the amount of music this other station had. As an undergrad, our weekend Classic Rock shifts were somewhat limited because we didn’t have a very large library of music. As station manager working on post-graduate work, I listened in amazement at the number of CDs and LPs available to fill the eight hours of Classic Hits, with music ranging anywhere from the crush-stomping sounds of Kashmir to the lightweight Cyndi Lauper, something called Girlschool, Gary Numan’s Cars, and some Creedence.

As on weekdays, the station didn’t sign-on until 10AM and students were regulated to two-hour shifts. In the end, Paulie’s air shift picks resulted in him being on the air from 10AM to 4PM, which was later explained to me to be the same schedule he’d had in past semesters.

Now the term “Classic Hits” tends to imply the music was popular on some sort of grand scale. As such, during this format you’re not going to be playing music from those local guys who won the Battle of the Bands contest four years ago. Paulie really dug the “classic” music, but it was usually regulated to pre-1974 and then the stuff he liked – not so much what the audience wanted, or expected, to hear. Numerous times that first fall semester I listened to his “Nuggets Weekend,” where he played and discussed the pop garage-rock tunes from Nuggets – “Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965-1968.” This compilation was right up his alley – he knew the songs inside and out and had scoured the liner notes and Internet for information on the bands to give him something to talk about on the air. Talk about show prep (see Boy, you can't play me that way)....

Here lie the problem – nothing on the compilation was a “hit” by the weak definition of the format “Classic Hits.” Sure, some of these songs had hit the Top 40 thirty years prior and probably deserved the additional recognition and airplay, but I always questioned why six solid hours were devoted to music college students had never heard before. As station manager I tried a few times to drop subtle hints that while I enjoyed learning about music I wasn’t familiar with – such as the Blues Magoos performing a cover of the classic John Loudermilk tune, Tobacco Road – that maybe he could drop in some better known non-Nuggets material to sort of balance his playlist. Especially since someone else had to come in for two hours afterwards (4 to 6PM) and who would most certainly shift the style drastically – like going for two bloody hours of 1980s New Wave.

His answer was classic: he didn’t know the music. His mind set in 1974, Paulie claimed to know nothing about contemporary music, much less the rest of the 1970s. Sadly, I never thought he was kidding. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Still, when I mentioned to the faculty advisor (my boss) about some of the comments I had heard badgering his weekly air shifts, I was simply told “but he plays such good music.”

Tobacco Road was originally written by Loudermilk in the early 1960s and has long since been covered by numerous artists across multiple genres. Besides the Blue Magoos, notable cover versions have included Lou Rawls (1963), Jefferson Airplane (1966), and David Lee Roth (1986), as well as a version by Bruce Springsteen (!), Toto (?), and by the Rodney Crowell one-off side-project, the Cicadas.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Tobacco Road
( John D. Loudermilk)
The Cicadas
From the album The Cicadas
1997

I was born in a bunk
Mother died and my daddy got drunk
Left me here to die or grow
In the middle of Tobacco Road

Grew up in a dusty shack
And all I had was a'hangin' on my back
Only you know how I loathe
This place called Tobacco Road

But it's home
The only life I've ever known
Only you know how I loathe
Tobacco Road

I'm gonna leave and get a job
With the help and the grace from above
Save some money, get rich I know
Bring it back to Tobacco Road

Bring Dynamite and a crane
Blow you up, start all over again
Build a town be proud to show
Give the name Tobacco Road

Cause it's home
The only life I've ever known
Oh I despise and disapprove you
But I love ya, 'cause it's home

We never got it off on that revolution stuff, what a drag too many snags

You meet a lot of interesting characters in life and easily one of the most memorable from my days in graduate school is the Young Dude, an undergraduate physically in the 1990s but mentally residing in the 1970s, if that.

Shortly after the semester began was the first meeting of the entire radio station staff. At this station everyone had to actually be enrolled in a particular section of a class and therefore receive credit for their work. Everybody in the class knew each other in some way – either from previous classes or working at the radio station – and so naturally eyes focused on the new guy at the head of the class. In turn, the new guy (me) eyed the students, trying to interpret attitudes from non-verbal clues or muffled comments. It was a typical looking group of students until Paulie Zizzo sauntered into the room.

Let me preface any perceived hostility by saying that Paulie was a genuinely good-hearted person. He was courteous, he was extremely friendly, he got along with everyone, and would try to help out whoever needed a hand. However, more than anything, what made Paulie stand out from everyone else on that campus was his penchant for the 1970s. Not just quoting television (which he did) or listening to music (which he did) but dressing like it was the 1970s – 1974, specifically. In Paulie's world it was 1974 and everyone else was just visiting from the future (at least, that's how I took it).

Young Mr. Zizzo – who identified himself on the air as the Young Dude, thanks in part that Mott the Hoople song from two years prior (meaning 1972) – was a short, skinny kid with a mane of long, wavy brown hair; other facial hair included sideburns and what was built up under his nose in the form of a moustache. Tinted glasses shielded his eyes, and he walked with a pronounced gait that made him look overly relaxed. His wardrobe consisted of high collars, earth tones, and high water pants – nothing remotely en vogue for 1998.

Of course, radio is not a visual medium so listeners totally missed out on this get-up. Listeners could get an earful of Paulie's minor speech impediment – the more he talked the more he tended to slur his words – which wasn’t really a detractor but unfortunately didn't help sell the Zizzo package. I have no idea what instigated this attitude – be it because of mental illness or his way to fit into life. Frankly, it never really seemed like it was my business. While he may have been a bit clueless on modern advances and wished he was living his life in 1974, he at least showed on time for his shifts and tried to better himself in his craft.

Speaking of Clueless, there was a movie of that name released a few years prior to this (meaning 1995), and on the soundtrack were a number of songs that got scant airplay back during my undergraduate days. I don’t think we did much with the compilation as I recall the disc stayed in the office a lot. Evidently the tracks, such as World Party’s cover of the David Bowie song, really weren’t our thing.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
All the Young Dudes
(David Bowie)
World Party
From the original motion picture soundtrack Clueless
1995

Well Billy rapped all night about his suicide
How he kick it in the head when he was twenty-five
Speed jive don't want to stay alive
When you're twenty-five
And Wendy's stealing clothes from Marks and Sparks
And Freedy's got spots from ripping off the stars from his face
Funky little boat race
Television man is crazy saying we're juvenile deliquent wrecks
Oh man I need TV when I got T Rex
Oh brother you guessed
I'm a dude dad
All the young dudes (Hey dudes)
Carry the news (Where are ya)
Boogaloo dudes (Stand up Come on)
Carry the news
All the young dudes (I want to hear you)
Carry the news (I want to see you)
Boogaloo dudes (And I want to talk to you all of you)
Carry the news

Now Lucy looks sweet cause he dresses like a queen
But he can kick like a mule it's a real mean team
But we can love oh yes we can love
And my brother's back at home with his Beatles and his Stones
We never got it off on that revolution stuff
What a drag too many snags
Now I've drunk a lot of wine and I'm feeling fine
Got to race some cat to bed
Oh is there concrete all around
Or is it in my head
Yeah
I'm a dude dad
All the young dudes (Hey dudes)
Carry the news (Where are ya)
Boogaloo dudes (Stand up)
Carry the news
All the young dudes (I want to hear ya)
Carry the news (I want to see you)
Boogaloo dudes (And I want to relate to you)
Carry the news
All the young dudes (What dudes)

Carry the news (Let's hear the news come on)
Boogaloo dudes (I want to kick you)
Carry the news
All the young dudes (Hey you there with the glasses)
Carry the news (I want you)
Boogaloo dudes (I want you at the front)
Carry the news (Now you all his friends)
All the young dudes (Now you bring him down cause I want him)
Carry the news
Boogaloo dudes (I want him right here bring him come on)
Carry the news (Bring him here you go)
All the young dudes (I've wanted to do this for years)
Carry the news (There you go)
Boogaloo dudes (How do you feel)
Carry the news

We've got a conclusion, and I guess that's something

Bran Van 3000's Glee was actually released before I graduated and Drinking In LA was featured on one of those preview discs in the spring of 1998. I also recall the advertisements and posters sent from the record label promoting some sort of pinkish scene from the movie, Bambi. Hmmm – Glee: a rabbit sniffing a deer. There evidently was no glee in the song from my undergraduate peers, as I recall many of the hard-boiled rock jocks a little aloof to play the song.

It was a different story the following year, when I heard Drinking in LA more than I wanted as station manager at that other radio station. Does it sound like I didn't particularly care for the song? Well, there isn't any disdain, but I never really got the "sound" of the song - that whole "mixed bag of everything at once" approach to what sounded like someone trying to merge various styles of music and then pass it off as the latest musical fad.

I was in the minority of this opinion, which might please BV3 founder James Di Salvio, because the album, specifically this lead single, made quite an impact with a lot of station staff. Students with DJ names like Old English, Duke Nukem, Johnny's Nightshirt, and Lil Dope regularly featured the song somewhere in their two-hour shift, probably all wishing it was some sort of personal anthem.

And that's one thing I found interesting between the two stations: how certain music was accepted. My fellow undergrads ridiculed Korn and Limp Bizkit, yet the rock shift at my graduate station made frequent use of their tracks. Marilyn Manson was universally forbidden, while later-day Metallica was something everyone could have agreed on. Granted there is always going to be a difference of opinion between any two people, much less groups of people, but I guess I thought that kids the same age would like the same kind of music. Oh, well...I’ve been wrong before.

Di Salvio, and the Canadian crew he created to front Bran Van 3000, originated in Montreal in 1997, releasing their debut single that spring. Glee followed mere months later and shortly thereafter their brief star fizzled as the collective began work on other projects. Their second album, Discosis, hit the shelves in 2001 and was generally praised, but saw little promotion (I didn't know about it all these years later...).

Anyway, yeah, we got these lyrics to the song featured in the above article, happening right after this last paragraph. You can all go ahead and continue reading here or just jump ahead to the end and try to remember a few things about the song if you can. It’s difficult because you’re reading the words and may not have the pulsating and echoey sounds in your mind, which would help you remember. You can ask us questions to help you remember portions of the song, namely, who is Stereo Mike. We’ll pretend to get an answer....

- - - - - - - - - - - -
Drinking in L.A.
(Di Salvio/Larson/Vartzbedian)
Bran Van 3000
From the album Glee
1998

Hi, my name is Stereo Mike.

Yeah, we got three tickets to the Bran Van concert happening this Monday night at the Pacific Pallisades. You can all dial in if you want to answer a couple of questions, namely, what is Todd's favourite cheese. Jackie just called up and said it was a form of Roquefort. We'll see about that...

Give us a ring-ding-ding! It's a beautiful day.

Yeah Todd, this is Liquid ring-a-ding-a-dinging, want those three Bran Van tickets man. Waddya think? Todd, you there?

I woke up again this morning with the sun in my eyes,
When Mike came over with a script surprise.
A Mafioso story with a twist,
A "Too Wong Foo, Julie Newmar" hitch,
Get your ass out of bed, he said:
I'll explain it on the way.

But we did nothing, absolutely nothing that day, and I say:
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26?
I got the fever for the flavour, the payback will be later, still I need a fix.

And the girls on the bus kept on laughing at us,
As we rode on the ten down to Venice again.
Flaring out the G-Funk,
Sipping on a juice and gin,
Just me and a friend.
Feeling kinda groovy,
Working on a movie. (Yeah right!)

But we did nothing, absolutely butkis that day, and I say:
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26?

With my mind on my money and my money on my... Beer, beer!

I know that life is for the taking, so I better wise up, and take it quick.

Yeah, one more time at Trader Vic's.

Some men there wanted to hurt us,
And other men said we weren't worth the fuss.
We could see them all bitching by the bar,
About the fine line, between the rich and the poor.
Then Mike turned to me and said:
"What do you think we got done son?"

We've got a conclusion, and I guess that's something, so I ask you:
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26?
I got the fever for the nectar, the payback will be later, still I need a fix.

We need to fix you up, call me Monday and maybe we'll fix it all up.

Hell-A-L.A., Hell hell-A-L.A.! ...

So I ask you:
What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 26?

Hell-A-L.A., Hell hell-A-L.A.