That 1,000-watt snout of yours was a real gift. How lucky you were to be able to read books under the covers without a flashlight! As a horny teen deer, you could have experienced paradise without a dashboard light. Heck, you probably could have lit a joint with that shiner. These are all talents that I find much more desirable than being able to guide a sleigh driven by a hairy, 300-pound butterball with bad fashion sense. You should have left the Claus in the lurch on that foggy night. That hack Blitzen could have strapped on a floodlight or two and managed to schlepp the old man as far as Ottowa, at least.
I cringe every time I hear the line, then all the reindeer loved him. One minute they’re sticking “kick me” signs on your tail, and the next they’re fighting over who gets to stand next to you at the feeding trough? Get real. Rudolph, they only wanted to hang with you because you got that one lucky break with the big man. Those parasites were too shallow to appreciate you for your uniqueness. I only wish you would have had the guts to say, “Bugger off, you hypocrites. Love me for who I am, or don’t love me at all.”
This little song of yours sprang from a story written in 1939 by Robert L. May, a copywriter for the Montgomery Ward department stores. May claims to have based your story on his own experience as a scrawny, taunted misfit. A few years later, May’s brother-in-law Johnny Marks turned the tale into a song, which was made famous by that crooning cowboy Gene Autry in 1949. It remains one of the biggest-selling Christmas tunes of all time. Rudy, those capitalist bums made a fortune off you!
Well, all I can say is this: When I win the Norman Mailer Prize for my memoir, as my dreamboat Keith Richards did, and those nasty high school girls who once ignored me come bowing down at my feet muttering, “I’m not worthy,” I’m gonna say, “Damn right you’re not! Now piss off.”
Now, if you absolutely have to watch a Rudolph video, I recommend this one:
© Dana Spiardi, Dec 10, 2014
]]>
Now, if you’re old enough to get that Bugs-Daffy cartoon reference, you’re no doubt old enough to remember a song that today would be considered a “women’s power” anthem: Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots are Made for Walkin’, which hit the #1 spot on the Billboard charts in January1966. With it’s slinky guitar strut and finger-pointing tough girl lyrics, it quickly became a favorite among my growing collection of 45s. What a way for a six-year-old to learn the fine art of insult and accusation!
You keep lying, when you oughta be truthin’.
And you keep losin’, when you oughta not bet.
You keep samin’, when you oughta be a-changin’.
Now what’s right is right, but you ain’t been right yet.
These boots are made for walkin’. And that’s just what they’ll do.
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
As I sat in my room, watching the record player’s needle skate so nicely along the grooves of the little vinyl disc, I wondered: “Would I ever be angry enough at a boy to tell him off like this?” “Would I ever have the occasion to use such interesting language?” All in due time, all in due time.
And would I ever be mature enough to wear boots like the red ones Nancy wore on the cover of the record sleeve? No, I would never reach an adequate level of maturity. But that didn’t stop my fab mom from buying me my first pair of white mini go-gos soon after the song’s release kicked-off a national boot craze. First-graders in go-go boots? Well, it was the swinging ’60s after all. (A year later Mrs. Lore sent me to the principal’s office for wearing lilac-colored fishnet stockings to school. Hey, could I help it if Mommy followed Chrissie Shrimpton and Twiggy?)
For a few years in the psychedelic ’60s, Nancy Sinatra was as fab as her famous father Frank was considered square by the hippies. She released a string of hit records, appeared in TV shows and starred with Elvis in one of his silly formula movies, “Speedway.” Even the young Material Girl was a Nancy fan. “Nancy Sinatra was a huge influence on me,” said Madonna. “I wanted to put on my go-go boots and walk all over someone.” (And she’s done just THAT, alright!)
Nancy’s classic put-down song was written by Lee Hazlewood, who penned many of her hits, produced her records and occasionally sang with her, duet-style. It was recorded using the top studio musicians of the day: legendary “Wrecking Crew” members Hal Blaine on drums; Al Casey, Tommy Tedesco, and Billy Strange on guitars; Ollie Mitchell, Roy Caton and Lew McCreary on horns; and Carol Kaye on electric bass. The defining funky bass line was the work of Chuck Berghofer. “Boots” sold over a million copies and was nominated for three Grammy awards. It’s been covered by Geri Halliwell, Megadeth, Jessica Simpson, Lil’ Kim, Billy Ray Cyrus, Faster Pussycat, and The Supremes.
By the mid-1970s Nancy Sinatra would nearly disappear from the music scene, as singers like Laura Nyro, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, and Carole King gained fame for their songwriting skills and earthier material. But she’ll always occupy a special place in my pantheon of girl rockers. Her music entertained me at a time when I was too green for Grace Slick and too cool for Connie Francis. And thanks to her cry-tough song, I’ve spent my life knee-deep in a boot bonanza.
Oh, how I wanted to use “Little Boots” as my nom de plume, but some British poptart had already taken it as her stage name. Maybe it’s just as well. It is, after all, the English translation of Caligula, the nickname of Rome’s most monstrous emperor, Gaius. Oh, we excitable Italians and our footwear!
Here’s Nancy struttin’ her stuff. To me at age 6, this TV clip was the height of groovy. Ooh, I just found me a brand new box of matches!
© Dana Spiardi, Jan 28, 2012 (original publication date)
The Cowsills’ original lineup featured brothers Bill, Bob, Barry and John. Siblings Susan and Paul, plus mom Barbara (known as “Mini-Mom for her short stature), joined the group after their breakthrough hit, “The Rain, The Park & Other Things.” Released during the height of psychedelia in 1967, this dreamy song about a “flower girl” reached #2 on the Billboard charts and spent 16 weeks in the Top 100. (It was written by Artie Kornfield and Steve Duboff.) The Cowsills’ other big hit was the title song from “Hair,” the hippie-dippy rock musical written by James Rado, Gerome Ragni and Galt MacDermot. It spent two weeks at #1 on the Cash Box Top 100 and reached #2 on the Billboard Hot 100. And, like all the bands of that era, they released an album with a really groovy title: “Captain Sad and his Ship of Fools.”
The entire Cowsill family was involved in act. Bob’s twin brother Richard acted as road manager and family patriarch Bud served as manager.
Based on this charming scenario and the group’s popularity at that time, the Screen Gems production company planned to develop a TV series about a musical family starring the Cowsill kids. But the deal fell through when studio execs insisted that Oscar award-winning singer/actress Shirley Jones play the part of the mother. Thus, the show became “The Partridge Family,” starring Ms. Jones and her teen idol stepson David Cassidy.
The fictitious Partridges ended up getting along much better than the family that inspired the characters. By 1973, internal squabbling had taken its toll, and the siblings began moving on to other projects. Today, Bob, Paul and Susan perform once a month as The Cowsills, but they mainly work independently. Susan has provided backing vocals on more than 200 albums by artists such as Paul Simon, the Smithereens and Hootie and the Blowfish. She released her first solo album, “Just Believe It,” in 2005, and her second, “Lighthouse,” in 2010. She and her band appeared in an episode of the HBO series “Treme” in 2011. John has been touring with The Beach Boys since 2000. Bob works in the software industry and Paul is a farmer. Barbara, Bud, Barry and Bill are all deceased.
Okay, call me square, but I’ve loved this song since it debuted when I was a kid. Can I help it if I have eclectic taste in music? Besides, it’s a first-cousin to Scott McKenzie’s “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair).” Susan is pictured in the video playing tambourine, although she didn’t sing on the record.
Check out this color clip of The Cowsills’ trippy performance of “Hair” – the song from the groundbreaking Broadway musical. Susan is famous for her line in the song: “and spaghetti’d”. Wow, I remember wearing outfits like that! Headbands, love beads, the whole works. What fun to be a kid in the groovy ’60s.
© Dana Spiardi, May 20, 2015
]]>
Rick wrote “Garden Party” in response to being booed by audience members at a 1971 oldies show in Madison Square Garden (a “Garden Party”). He was there to perform a few of his many hit songs from the late 1950s, and opened with one of his biggest, “Hello Mary Lou.” He then set out to play newer material, starting with a rendition of the Rolling Stones’ “Country Honk.” Fans, expecting to hear his earlier work, began to boo (many think it actually stemmed from some sort of police presence within the crowd). Rick took it personally and stormed off the stage.
Nelson was so rattled by the crowd’s reaction that he penned “Garden Party,” making not-so-thinly veiled references to all kinds of performers. Here is a sampling of the lyrics:
To reminisce with my old friends: Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley and Bobby Rydell, who were also on the oldies show bill.
Yoko brought a walrus: John Lennon (a nod to his song “I Am the Walrus.”)
I said hello to Mary Lou, she belongs to me: a reference to Rick’s hit, and also to Bob Dylan’s “She Belongs to Me,” a song he once covered.
I sang a song about a honky tonk: The Stones song “Country Honk,” which supposedly incited the booing.
Out stepped Johnny B. Goode…playing guitar like a-ringing a bell: another reference to Chuck.
But who was the Mr. Hughes hiding in Dylan’s shoes? People assumed it was the reclusive Howard, but it was actually a reference to Rick’s next-door neighbor George Harrison, who sometimes used the alias “Mr. Hughes.” The former Beatle had planned to release an album of Dylan covers.
He ended the tale with:
If you gotta play at garden parties
I wish you a lotta luck.
But if memories were all I sang
I’d rather drive a truck (a reference to Elvis, who was once told at an audition: “Stick to driving a truck, because you’ll never make it as a singer.”)
Nelson eventually recovered and continued to perform. In all, he released 19 Top Ten hits between 1957 and 1973, and was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1987.
He died in a plane crash on December 31, 1985, at the age of 45. A variety of chemicals, including cocaine, marijuana, and the painkiller Darvon, were found in Nelson’s blood after the accident. It’s long been rumored that he and fellow passengers set the private plane ablaze while freebasing cocaine, but the National Transportation Safety Board rejects the claim.
What a sad demise for the boy from the so-called idyllic “Ozzie and Harriet” household.
Here’s Rick’s pretty song with the pointed lyrics. Did he overreact to the oldies show incident? Probably, but the song it inspired earned him a nice penny.
© Dana Spiardi, May 7, 2015
]]>
Mr. Tim, born Herbert Khaury on April 12, 1932, in Washington Heights, Manhattan, to a Polish Jewish mother and Lebanese Catholic father, personified the “let your freak flag fly” philosophy of the late 60s. He blew kisses, batted his eyes and tossed his wild, tinted hair as he strummed his ukelele and sang long-forgotten vaudeville tunes in his vibrato voice. He was probably the only sensation of the day to play a stringed instrument NOT made by Fender, Gibson, Gretsch or Rickenbacker.
He got his start in the early 1960s performing in a Greenwich Village lesbian club called The Page 3, and eventually developed a local cult following. His big break came when he was booked for an episode of the top-rated Laugh In variety show. This led to a steady stream of appearances on programs hosted by the big names of the day: Ed Sullivan, Jackie Gleason and the king of late night TV, Johnny Carson. Johnny took a liking to the polite, mild-mannered oddball and offered to host Tiny’s wedding to 17-year-old “Miss Vicki” (Victoria May Budinger) on the Tonight Show on December 17, 1969. It’s estimated that 40 million viewers tuned in to witness the first-of-a-kind talk show event – and I was among them! As a kid I thought Tiny was all the rage and I managed to convince my mom to “wake me up for the wedding.” I was proud to announce to my fifth grade class the next day that I had witnessed a happening.
In 1968 Tiny Tim released an album on the Reprise label, “God Bless Tiny Tim,” which sold 20,000 copies and contained his sole hit, “Tip-Toe Through the Tulips.” (He and Miss Vicki named their daughter Tulip.) By the early 1970s his act had worn thin. He continued to plug away, appearing in small clubs and even performing with a circus for six months. He experienced a minor comeback in the 1990s, appearing on the Conan O’Brien, Howard Stern and Arsenio Hall shows. In an ironic twist of fate, he suffered a fatal heart attack while performing his signature song, “Tip-Toe,” during a 1999 show in Minneapolis.
Tiny Tim was a physically unattractive man with numerous eccentricities, but he had the courage to stand proud on some of the country’s most famous stages, and the charisma to earn a small place among the hot acts of the hottest musical era in history. He died on November 30, 1996. RIP, Mr. Tim, and thanks for reminding us that being weird is wonderful.
Here’s Tiny, singing his signature song:
By Dana Spiardi, Nov 30, 2013
]]>