boy or girl? Couldn't tell. Weird haircut (so Olympia).
Anyway, they ask their mom, "Did you know I love you so darn much?"
A child and their mom walking in our library yesterday. The kid was about five years old;
boy or girl? Couldn't tell. Weird haircut (so Olympia). Anyway, they ask their mom, "Did you know I love you so darn much?"
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Perhaps I should write about the good side of my observances--thoughtful people I catch out in public who show patience or everyday manners. Those folks still exist.
But I'm bitching again and writing about music collecting; geez, what a bore I've become. Let's talk about a store transaction that left a lot to be desired at an Office Max not far from where I work. Used to be that I always purchased TDK or Maxell blank CDs to copy music for my radio show because I didn't think Verbatim was as good in terms of quality. That might be true but I'm okay with Verbatim now, until I got a bad batch. Several of the Verbatim discs had a little gouge; faulty manufacturing. I would prefer my blank CDs to last for what I've got left in my lifetime, so I returned them. Although I circled one of the defects on the disc with a Sharpie, the dude at the counter started going through them, saying "nope" several times when he didn't see a defect. Eventually, it looked like I'd be getting my refund but I found that to be a rude approach. (This reminded me of the newspaper/book editor in Greta Gerwig's spectacular 2019 film version of Little Women, who would go through the pages Jo March penned one by one, slamming them down after he made corrections or simply read through.) So I started circling other discs that had the small chip missing. "Sir, you don't have to do that," he told me. I shot back that "I need to be believed." The experience was not pleasant and I was happy to get out of there. Two satisfying examples concerning my music collection over the last week or so:
I was wide-eyed to find a CD copy of the dBs' power pop album Like This (1984) in the bins at my favorite Olympia record store--and for 98 cents! That's exciting, though collectors are always a bit leery of that kind of deal. Was the disc scratched and how badly? The answer: No scuffs...just a sort of mark near the shiny side's center. I decided it was worth the risk of purchase because I have burned a defective CD before and the copy often comes out sans imperfections. That's Plan B--to have a burned copy--but I hoped to have a legit album to add to my insane music collection. I simply cleaned the blemish with the mild soap we use on veggies. No visible scar now and it sounds great! Then there's the Last Word's single "Can't Stop Loving You" (1967), which had a very brief chart run but made quite an impression on me; it's soulful rock'n'roll with a strong singer and superb guitarist, clocking in at 2:18. I found it in the early '80s at a record store near Groesbeck and Van Dyke in Michigan (the "Van" was inspiration for half of the group name of Martha & the Vandellas) that was going out of business. Deceitfully, the store was repackaging used albums with sealed shrinkwrap, and worst of all, sold me a Smokey Robinson & the Miracles double live LP with only one record in it. "Can't Stop Loving You" was worn out and sounded noisy so I put it away for posterity, and I've heard it on the radio only once or twice in fifty years. But as my all-'60s show approached recently, I was dying to see if I could get it on the air. (The B-side, by the way, is a tedious remake of Wilson Pickett's "Don't Fight It.") I thought this trashed 45 on the Atco label was beyond repair but once again, I used vegetable wash and cleaned it in a circular motion (CDs, by contrast, are supposed to be wiped a different way, from center to the edge). Yow! The cleanup took out most of the noise on the "Can't Stop Loving You" single and it sounded fabulous on the air Saturday...or at least, I thought so. There you have it: two items with new life via just a bit of maintenance. Don't worry about growing older, people. The tiniest triumphs can be delightful. Leap year happens only once every four years, and why does it have to occur in an election cycle? Add another insufferable day of ads, texts and more from not always well-meaning politicians and organizations after your money.
A rather enjoyable homeless man who spends most of his days in our library asked me, "why can't that extra day for leap year be in the summer when the weather's nice?" The only person I know of--famous or not--with a leap year birthday is Gretchen Christopher of the Olympia vocal trio the Fleetwoods, who had two US number one hits in 1959, "Come Softly to Me" and the iridescent "Mr. Blue," a particular favorite. Gretchen was in our library branch recently and was happy I knew of her; in fact, I told her I interviewed her for KAOS in 1994. Hadn't seen her in thirty years and she was amazed I remembered her leap year birthday, which really isn't a difficult recall. We had a nice chat. The funny coincidence about this was that that very morning, before I talked to the singer, I noticed a book about Olympia High School on display. I thought, "this had better have the Fleetwoods in it!" and sure enough, there they were: Gary Troxel, Barbara Ellis and Ms. Christopher. The book referred to those songs I listed as "album singles," I guess wanting everyone to know that the Fleetwoods recorded albums as well as singles. It's prestige, right? Dangerous, shady politicians are causing me to share what's on the brain, even if I don't want to. Yes, I am rationalizing and making excuses for an online gaffe.
The other day I listed a song by Johnny Copeland on my radio playlist--it's called "Something's Up Your Sleeve," a 1965 single by the fab bluesman. Only I didn't initially post it as "Up Your Sleeve." I posted it as "Up Your Sleeze." This is going to be a year of pre-occupation with election activities and frightening statements; current events are making me tense, to quote rocker Joe "King" Carrasco. When the Shangri-Las' lead singer Mary Weiss died at 75 last week, we lost a remarkable recording star who combined youthful spunk with unusual maturity on a series of stunning sides by the group, including the 1964 #1 hit, "Leader of the Pack." The recipient of first rate songs by George "Shadow" Morton and an imaginative and daring production approach to match, the then-15 year old Weiss affected listeners and the whole of the rock'n'roll scene in a big way. One could call her Mary Wise.
The Queens, New York group assembled in 1963 with Mary, her sister Betty and two other sisters, Marge and Mary Ann Ganser. The Shangri-Las rejected the standard "girl group" attire of the day, ditching skirts for black leather pants. They came up with a stage show that trotted out popular songs like the Chantels' "Maybe" and the Isley Brothers' "Shout"; a few unsuccessful singles followed before Shadow Morton entered the picture. Morton guided the Shangri-Las rise to their brief but unforgettable chart run from 1964-1966. But saying that he "created" the Shangri-Las is a bit like saying George Martin "created" the Beatles. By 1968, when the Shangri-Las split up, Weiss noted that the vibe turned from "all about music" to "all about litigation." A reunion in the '70s fizzled. It took until 2017 for Weiss to release a solo album, Dangerous Game, backed by the Reigning Sound. It's good yet hardly a revelation. But what amazing, cinematic records the Shangri-Las made! Here's my Top Five (three of the five were cut in 1964): 5. "Leader of the Pack": Teen angst from those tough and tender girls, as narrator Mary faces pressure from her parents to ditch her motorcycle boyfriend while her fellow Shangri-Las call out the grownups' double speak: "What do mean when you say that he 'came from the wrong side of town'?" It's over the top and just on the good side of hysteria but so much more cutting than other teen tragedy songs like J. Frank Wilson's "Last Kiss" and Ray Peterson's awful "Tell Laura I Love Her." The difference is Mary Weiss, who possesses a hip believability that the others lack. 4. "I Can Never Go Home Anymore" (1965): A haunting track with the singer showing compassion and love for her mother while defying mom's view that she's "too young" to fall in love. Weiss' character moves out of the house but quickly realizes that the family bond is the priority at that point: "and you know something funny? I forgot about that boy right away." By the end of the song, it's too late--the singer suffers deep regret when the mother-daughter relationship is never repaired. 3. "Give Him a Great Big Kiss": Street swagger and some hilarious lyrics, starting with "when I say I'm in love, you'd best believe I'm in love, L-U-V." And then the Q (for Queens) and A: "What color are his eyes?" "I don't know--he's always wearing shades." "Is he tall?" "Well, I gotta look up" and more: "Big bulky sweater, to match his eyes/dirty fingernails/oh boy what a prize!" The Shangri-Las were good-bad but not evil and it became a favorite cover version when New York Dolls brought "Kiss" to the proto-punk style they were developing. 2. "Past, Present and Future" (1966): A devastating account of getting burned by a lover, set to piano chords informed by Beethoven (some say Debussy). Weiss was 17 when she cut this, detached but somehow warm when she accepts a new person's request for a date but follows with a harrowing line: "Don't try to touch me, 'cause that will never...happen...again." In real life, the singer said the song was not about an abusive relationship, so we can assume it was less dramatic--an icy sadness and severe disappointment. Another incredible record for me; just a month ago I was playing it on "repeat," seven or eight times. It's a poised, entrancing performance, so far beyond Mary Weiss' years. 1. "Remember (Walkin' In the Sand)": Another shattered romance, with the main character uncertain of what will happen in her life, as her former partner might just as well be a ghost. The sound effects of seagulls over handclaps every eight beats plus fingersnaps and dramatic low notes on the piano transforms the track into a gloomy dream, a unique stroke of recordmaking genius. The backup singing by the other gals is beyond skillful. Some YouTube comments say that a young Billy Joel is playing the piano part but he's not on the finished record, just the demo. Virtually every remake of "Remember" I've heard is a misfire, especially the overwrought versions by Aerosmith and the live track with Jeff Beck and singer Imelda May. This edgy, eerie feeling created by Morton and nailed by Weiss makes the Shangri-Las' original the only one worth celebrating--because it's clearly a masterpiece. I'm leaving out other fine songs, like "The Train from Kansas City" (covered by Neko Case) and "Out In the Streets" (covered by Blondie)--both were penned by Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich, the team that also co-authored "Leader of the Pack" with Morton. Another story, another time. Perhaps the most worthwhile Shangri-Las CD anthology is called Myrmidons of Melodrama, which is a largely inaccurate title. But use it to reacquaint yourself with these records as my descriptions don't do them justice. Throughout, Weiss is an emotionally advanced performer--a sort of nuanced actor whose work is just as rich as that from the many giants of the 1960s. Mary Weiss' most perfect moments will remain frozen in time for me, as they're in a special place. And that's called glad. Sometime around Christmas, I celebrated my 30th anniversary of moving from Michigan to Washington State. I'd lived in Michigan for 30 years (two different tenures), so now with every passing day, I've lived out west longer than north of Motown. I think I can consider myself a Washingtonian now and that's a good thing.
Among my duties when I'm at the front desk at the library is making library cards.
A man perhaps older than me needed to be registered again and he was a bit cranky, complaining about the noise from the children nearby. I thought better of trying to explain to him that it's so important to get kids excited about coming to the library, or else it's going to be a thing of the past. Our enthusiastic and sometimes boisterous young patrons are the reason our patronage keeps rejuvenating itself. I'm pretty proud of myself for keeping my sunny, positive outlook, even as I get older. This guy was the opposite of that, and when I typed his surname (Sacks) into my computer file, I caught a mistake I'd made before he received his card. Subconsciously, I spelled his last name "Sucks." While not a huge fan of kale, I certainly receive health benefits from consuming it once in awhile.
There was a clever post today that read: "always use coconut oil when preparing kale because it's easier to scrape into the trash that way." Saturday's Mariners loss to the Texas Rangers sealed Seattle's fate: they fell short of baseball's Wild Card by one game and missed the division championship by two.
I'm looking at the bright side of things and saying that 2023 marks three years in a row of competitive baseball in Seattle--they won 90 games in 2021 and 2022, 88 this season. In August, they set a franchise record for wins in a month (21), propelling them into first place for a week or so. But as September moved through, Seattle faltered. It was especially frustrating when both Texas and Houston would lose and the Mariners couldn't take advantage of it. Our team needs more bats--hitters that don't leave runners stranded. That's got to be addressed this winter. But thanks for the thrills, guys: taking three of the last four games of the year from Texas would normally trigger a celebration, yet with so many games thrown away in September, it was too little, too late. Next year! I'm a little down about how the season ended and I'm not real excited to watch the remaining teams shoot for the World Series. It's great that the Mariners returned the disfavor on the final day and beat Texas 1-0; this kept the Rangers from clinching the division. Now, Texas won't be hosting their first playoff series at home because of those upstart Mariners. But that's only a small victory for us--Seattle fans deserve better. Update: The Rangers won it all this year, defeating the surprising Arizona Diamondbacks four games to one in the 2023 World Series. |
The J2 Blog J.J. Syrja (born in Detroit, 1955) is a journalist and radio broadcaster. The son of an electrician and a teacher, he has written for Goldmine magazine,
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April 2024
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