Song of the Day, Part Five: Gloria Gaynor, I Will Survive

Because I was challenged by my friend Diane at Ladies Who Lunch blog, for this Song A Day Challenge, I’m supposed to post the lyrics of a favorite song for five days in a row, and explain what the song lyrics mean to me.

This fills both the “seventies slot,” and the “disco slot.” I really wanted a hip-hop slot, but I try to keep the blog suitable for work. Because what should my readers be doing on the job other than reading Fountain Pen Follies?

I am sure I don’t need to explain this one. It’s an all-time classic disco hit, from 1978. They even play it at the end of the movie The Martian, and let me tell you, it fits there.

This is my favorite video of this song. Gloria Gaynor looks so classy and grown-up, like she just wandered from a nicer party into this television dance show. And I love her band and their outfits. Requiem for the powder blue suit. But more than anything, this video makes me wonder, Why can’t I have backup singers and a horn section following me around? Everything would be better with that.

Well here are the lyrics, at least the start. I’m just going to play the song instead.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified,
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong,
And I grew strong, and I learned how to get along.

And so you’re back from outer space.
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face.
I should have changed that stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second you’d be back to bother me.

Go on now, go. Walk out the door.
Just turn around now ’cause you’re not welcome anymore.
Weren’t you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye?
Did you think I’d crumble?
Did you think I’d lay down and die?

Oh, no, not I!
I will survive.
Oh, as long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive.
I’ve got all my life to live.
I’ve got all my love to give.
And I’ll survive,
I will survive, hey, hey.

Song of the Day, Part Four: TV on the Radio, Dancing Choose

Because I was challenged by my friend Diane at Ladies Who Lunch blog, for this Song A Day Challenge, I’m supposed to post the lyrics of a favorite song for five days in a row, and explain what the song lyrics mean to me.

I usually don’t listen to lyrics much, but this song actually does have neat ones. The song is from TV on the Radio’s best album ever, Dear Science, from 2008. It’s one of those rapid-fire songs with a lot of words, like R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).”

I just like the way the words sound here. I like the staccato flashes of thoughts, phrases and nonsense. The rhythms are really cool. And I like the words themselves; they are sometimes like snatches of found poetry. Certain phrases have lodged in my head. Like, “He’s a what? He’s a what? He’s a newspaper man.” And  “foam injected Axl Rose.”

But the chorus is stuck in my head for a different reason: because I think it’s beautiful. “In my mind I’m breeding butterflies,/ Broken dreams, and alibis / That’s fine / I’ve seen my palette / Blown to monochrome / Hollow heart / Clicks hollowtone / In time.”

Well, I like the whole thing. This is “Dancing Choose,” by TV on the Radio.

He’s a what?
He’s a what?
He’s a newspaper man
And he gets his best ideas
From a newspaper stand;
From his boots to his pants
To his comments and his rants
He knows that any little article will do

Though he expresses some confusion
‘Bout his part in the plan,
And he can’t understand
That he’s not in command;
The decisions underwritten
By the cash in his hand
Bought a sweater for
His weimariner too

Now I’m no mad man,
But that’s insanity
Feast before famine,
And more before family
Goes and shows up with
More bowls and more
Cups and the riot for the
Last hot meal erupts
Corrupts his hard drive
Through the leanest months
Shells out the hard cash
For the sickest stunts;
On aftershave, on gasoline
He flips the page and turns
The scene

In my mind I’m drowning butterflies
Broken dreams and alibis;
That’s fine.
I’ve seen my palette blown
To monochrome-
Hollow heart
Clicks hollowtone,
It’s time.

Eye on authority,
Thumb prints a forgery
Boy, ain’t it crazy what the
Lights can do
For counterfeit community;
Every opportunity
Wasted as the space
Between the flash tattoo

And the half-hearted hologram,
Posed for the party
Now he gloss full bleed
On a deaf dumb tree
Cod liver dollar signs,
Credit card autograph
Down for the record
But not for freedom

Angry young mannequin
American, apparently
Still to the rhythm
Better get to the back of me
Can’t stand the vision,
Better tongue the anatomy
Gold plated overhead,
Blank transparency
In the days of old,
You were a nut
Now you need three bumps
Before you cut
Not that I should care about,
Nothing I ain’t scared of, but
I guess you had to be there.

In my mind I’m breeding butterflies,
Broken dreams, and alibis
That’s fine.
I’ve seen my palette
Blown to monochrome
Hollow heart
Clicks hollowtone
In time.

I see you figured in your action pose
Foam-injected Axl Rose,
Life size
Should something shake you
And you drop the news,
Lord, just keep your dancing shoes
Off mine

Song of the Day, Part Three: Vampire Weekend, “Unbelievers”

Because I was challenged by my friend Diane at Ladies Who Lunch blog, for this Song A Day Challenge, I’m supposed to post the lyrics of a favorite song for five days in a row, and explain what the song lyrics mean to me.

This song is here to occupy my made-up category of “a song by my favorite band.”

Vampire Weekend is my favorite band, even though they are, technically, sort of broken up. In January 2016, the guy on the left, Rostam Batmanglij, said he had quit Vampire Weekend to go solo. This song, “Unbelievers,” is from the 2013 album Modern Vampires of the City, their most recent album.

What do these song lyrics mean? That’s a toughie, but I’ll make a stab at it. I’ve read that this song is about being Jewish, as the lead singer, Ezra Koenig, is Jewish. And I can see that. But I think I see something broader in there, as well.

Personally, I interpret the song to refer to zealots of any denomination or credo, religious or political or otherwise, who can come to be intolerant and can be made to lash out violently and murderously at others.

However, counter to that interpretation of what it means to be a true believer is another — the idea of extending grace, or charity and goodwill to others. And the singer questions whether that extends to everyone, even those who aren’t members of a particular group.

But I didn’t write it, so I don’t know. Pop music lyrics are elliptical, and often we can pick our own story.

So here is “Unbelievers.” Much better played than read.

Got a little soul
The world is a cold, cold place to be
Want a little warmth
But who’s gonna save a little warmth for me?

We know the fire awaits unbelievers
All of the sinners the same
Girl, you and I will die unbelievers
Bound to the tracks of the train.

If I’m born again I know that the world will disagree
Want a little grace but who’s gonna say a little grace for me?

We know the fire awaits unbelievers
All of the sinners the same
Girl, you and I will die unbelievers
Bound to the tracks of the train.

I’m not excited, but should I be?
Is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me?

I know I love you
And you love the sea
But what holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me?

See the sun go down
It’s going on down, and the night is deep
Want a little light
But who’s gonna save a little light for me?

We know the fire awaits unbelievers
All of the sinners the same
Girl, you and I will die unbelievers
Bound to the tracks of the train

I’m not excited, but should I be?
Is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me?

I know I love you
And you love the sea
But what holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me?

I’m not excited, but should I be?

Is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me?

<p”>I know I love you
And you love the sea
But what holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me?

Song of the Day, Part Two: Beyonce, Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)

I love this song, and the video, so here is a very happy Day Two song. The backstory is that I was challenged by my friend Diane at Ladies Who Lunch blog, for this Song A Day Challenge, I’m supposed to post the lyrics of a favorite song for five days in a row, and explain what the song lyrics mean to me.

The meaning of the lyrics. I can ace that: Don’t mess around too much, or take us for granted, guys. We have options, too. Treat us right. If you don’t you’ll be alone. Wuh oh oh.

I like the inversion. And I love Beyoncé.

As for the music, and even the video, to me, it’s pop genius. One hundred percent fun. If you press “play” up there and don’t immediately start dancing, or at least tapping your feet or shimmying your shoulders, you better have someone call an ambulance, because you may be dead.

So here it is:

All the single ladies (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies
Now put your hands up

Up in the club, we just broke up
I’m doing my own little thing
You decided to dip but now you wanna trip
Cause another brother noticed me
I’m up on him, he up on me
don’t pay him any attention
Cause I cried my tears, for three good years
Ya can’t be mad at me

[Chorus:]
Cause if you liked it then you should have put a ring on it
If you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it

Wuh uh oh uh uh oh oh uh oh uh uh oh
Wuh uh oh uh uh oh oh uh oh uh uh oh

[Chorus]

I got gloss on my lips, a man on my hips
Hold me tighter than my Dereon jeans
Acting up, drink in my cup
I could care less what you think
I need no permission, did I mention
Don’t pay him any attention
Cause you had your turn
And now you gonna learn
What it really feels like to miss me

[Chorus]

Wuh uh oh uh uh oh oh uh oh uh uh oh
Wuh uh oh uh uh oh oh uh oh uh uh oh

Don’t treat me to these things of the world
I’m not that kind of girl
Your love is what I prefer, what I deserve
Is a man that makes me then takes me
And delivers me to a destiny, to infinity and beyond
Pull me into your arms
Say I’m the one you want
If you don’t, you’ll be alone
And like a ghost I’ll be gone

All the single ladies (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies
Now put your hands up

Wuh uh oh uh uh oh oh uh oh uh uh oh
Wuh uh oh uh uh oh oh uh oh uh uh oh

 

Song of the Day, Part One: The Ramones, I Wanna Be Sedated

Well, this will be fun. (For me. Definitely not you!) My friend Diane from the wonderful Ladies Who Lunch blog nominated me for the Song a Day Challenge.

I’ve just totally copied out the rules of this challenge from her, but I’m supposed to post the lyrics of a favorite song for five days in a row, explain what the song lyrics mean to me, and add the video if available. I’m also supposed to pass the challenge along to two other people. Now, I actually don’t know any bloggers other than Diane who post that often. And I can’t afford to make any more enemies. So, instead, I’m going to take the lazy person’s way out bold and brave step of letting any blog reader self-nominate. If you want to do the Song a Day Challenge, consider yourself nominated by me. Go for it!

These five songs aren’t actually my all-time favorite songs. I don’t think. I like a lot of songs. I just thought of five songs that I love but that I’m not sure I’ve mentioned on the blog before.

The first is “I Wanna Be Sedated” by the Ramones. A real oldie, this one came out in 1978 on the classic album Road to Ruin. Who are the Ramones? A punk band from Queens, New York City.

To shorthand that for my friend, Jim, yes, that means, “they can’t play their instruments.” See also the Clash and the Replacements. The Ramones are a stand-in for all those bands. But that’s okay! That genre, the favorite of my youth and teenage years, still holds up. It seems pretty contemporary, actually.

What do the lyrics of “I Wanna Be Sedated” mean to me? Well, that’s self-explanatory. Usually, I don’t pay much attention to lyrics; I’m more about the beat, the music and the feel of the song, while the words just trail off into, like, “congratulations on the mess, hmm, hmm, hmmm, ba ba.” But these lyrics are imprinted on my brain.

The lyrics are simple, sure — that’s why I can remember them. Hilarious. Exaggerated. But true! I must feel this way (not literally) dozens of times a week, even now. At the airport, standing in the longest line at the grocery store, listening to my own teenagers, checking the news. Actually, no: in the last two situations, I do literally want to be sedated.

So, not profound, perhaps, but wonderful nonetheless, is “I Wanna Be Sedated” by the late, great American band, the Ramones.

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated
Nothin’ to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated
Just get me to the airport put me on a plane
Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane
I can’t control my fingers I can’t control my brain
Oh no no no no no

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go….
Just put me in a wheelchair, get me on a plane
Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane
I can’t control my fingers I can’t control my brain
Oh no no no no no

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated
Nothin’ to do and no where to go-o-o I wanna be sedated
Just put me in a wheelchair get me to the show
Hurry hurry hurry before I go loco
I can’t control my fingers I can’t control my toes
Oh no no no no no

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go…
Just put me in a wheelchair…
Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be sedated
Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be sedated
Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be sedated
Ba-ba-bamp-ba ba-ba-ba-bamp-ba I wanna be sedated

It’s a Long Way to Tipperary

mary_tyler_moore_show_title_card

Mary Tyler Moore died yesterday, at the age of 80. Which is hard to believe, on both fronts. I still think of her as Mary Richards, the 1970s career woman who wondered if she could make it on her own.

A lot of girls and women who were around in 1970s America look back on the Mary Tyler Moore show with gratitude and fondness. It was funny and warm, well-written and well-acted, but not just that. The very premise of the show was quietly inspirational. In 1970, it presented as normal the possibility that single women could be both independent and happy, for the whole run of the show.

Women could have fulfilling jobs — careers, even. Women could have a circle of good friends, but could live contentedly alone in a cute apartment. Women could date just for fun — not seriously, not looking for a husband. Women didn’t have to be perfect. They didn’t have to be good cooks and hostesses — it was a running joke that Mary’s dinner parties were awful. Women could stammer, could be uncertain and could make mistakes. And still be happy.

That was relevatory, for girls as young as I. Mary Richards was a role model, and an inspiration. As was Mary Tyler Moore. Thanks, Mary Tyler Moore.

But the show was also so funny. There may never be a half hour of television as funny and true for me as the Chuckles the Clown episode. Chuckles, the local television station’s clown, met an untimely death, which led other coworkers to make nervous, tasteless jokes that horrified Mary. But it was Mary, usually so well-mannered and appropriate, who found herself unable to stop laughing during the solemn funeral service. Mary was met with shocked stares, as you’d imagine, until the clergyman officiating at the service tried to make her feel better by telling everyone that, no, she should laugh, because Chuckles lived to make people laugh, and her laughter was exactly what the late clown would have wanted. At which point she started sobbing.

When the show went off the air, the last episode ended with the characters, most of whom had just been fired, walking out of the office, arms around each other, singing It’s a Long Way to Tipperary. Because that always was the message of the Mary Tyler More Show. Despite the title song, you don’t just make it on your own — you make it with the help of colleagues, friends and family.

Thanks for that, too, Mary Tyler Moore.

 

Merry Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve, and I heard this on the radio when I was returning from picking up the last of bits we need for tonight and tomorrow. It made me think of my mother, who loved Christmas.

Our family Christmas traditions, as I’ve mentioned before, are Swedish, so Christmas Eve has always been more meaningful to me than Christmas Day. It’s the night of our family’s traditional Swedish dinner, and it was the night growing up that our church had the children’s pageant, the carols, the service. It’s the night that’s not about things.

My mother was the kindest, smartest, most talented person I ever knew. Also very strong-willed and certain. Our personalities and interests were quite different, so I was something of a trial for her. I was always doing things my way. She eventually learned that I was probably the one thing she couldn’t fix. I was the recipe that turned out all whacked.

But there were good ingredients in there. And at least I always made her laugh. So she came to bear my foibles with a resignation that was entirely unusual for her. I like to think that she came to appreciate individuality and difference. But now that I’m a mother, I think it’s more likely that she adopted the, “Don’t look at me; it’s not my fault” shrug that comes in handy for us all.

I love my mother, and I’ll probably always strive to be worthy of her. She was the best person I ever knew. She passed away after a long and difficult illness days before Christmas two years ago, so she’s especially in my thoughts this time of year. I know she wouldn’t love this version of Silent Night. I guess I’m still doing things my way. But this does remind me of her. I remember the crunch of the snow as we walked home from church in the dark of night on Christmas Eve, in the sharp and bitter cold. I like to think of my mother now sleeping in heavenly peace, in the dawn of redeeming grace.

So I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and a Happy Hanukkah and a peaceful and happy end of the year with those you love.

The Naughty List, In Song

Well, I love a good Christmas song as much as anyone, probably more than most people, but I guess good songs must cost more, because my shopping trips this year have been the stuff of musical nightmares. What is going on in American malls this year?

I actually walked around Barnes & Noble with my hands over my ears for ten minutes. (Then I stood in front of the science books and loudly exclaimed, “Boy these look nerdy,” before realizing (a) I was actually there to buy a science book as a gift, and (b) the guys browsing these books would hear me. And edge away, crushed.) I am quite certain I’m on Barnes & Noble’s naughty list.

But because I practically needed to bleach out my poor brain after these trips, I’ve put together a playlist for people like me. Those who need a little un-Christmas, right this very minute. A list for my fellow naughty-listers, if you will.

Joy Division, Love Will Tear Us Apart: Just the greatest song ever recorded. That’s all.

 

Car Seat Headrest, Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales: A little mopey at first, but it’s got a beat that builds in a killer way. This is my second favorite song of 2016. Your mother will be disappointed in some of the lyrics. Which are helpfully printed right there.

 

Flaming Lips, Yoshimi: A fairly gross video to play for your young nephews, to enliven your holiday gathering. I neither admit nor deny having done this myself.

 

The B-52s, Roam: Pure fun from the 80s. But also words to live by. Your mother should like this one.

 

The Weather Girls, It’s Raining Men: Pure fun from the 80s, part two. Put some camp in your Christmas or Hanukkah. Just made for moms.

 

A Tribe Called Quest, Bonita Applebum: We are rolling forward into 1990, when A Tribe Called Quest ambled onto the scene. If she listens to the lyrics, your mother will definitely not like this song. Unless your mother is me, which I’m afraid only works for three of you. Play this for your young nephews, however, and you’ll never have to attend another family dinner. Because you will never again be invited.

 

Lauryn Hill, Doo-Wop (That Thing): Very occasionally, someone makes something, and it’s perfect. Here you go.

 

A Tribe Called Quest, We the People: Extreme bad-language alert. Plus, this expresses a point of view that isn’t popular with everyone. So if you don’t already know this group, don’t click. But it’s my favorite song of 2016. So it’s gonna make my list. Also, RIP Phife.