Here’s a big fat post about music and murder and gay sex and time travel that will surely alienate almost everyone. But I’m sitting here Youtubing and eating dark chocolate so… do I give a fuck about anything other than my own satisfaction right now? The answer, of course, is no. Not at all. And, yes, I’m well aware that my explorations of youtube are probably only entertaining to me. And you’re right, blogs are probably not meant for this. But. I really, as much as I feel a little bit guilty of torturing innocents, really just want to do it anyway. So.
First of all, there was a film called The Big Chill that the people in my family loved when I was little. It was a movie about old college friends that spend a weekend together to mourn the death of a common friend. This film came out a week after my 2nd birthday and was not only my first introduction to Jeff Goldblum, but this would be the birth of my seemingly infinite love affair with Motown. The Soundtrack to The Big Chill would teach me about Marvin, Smokey, Aretha, The Temptations, The Four Tops, and a couple of others. These songs remind me of when I was still a tiny tot that was essentially being raised by crazy teenagers. Well, in this evening’s youtubing extravaganza, I thought of my favorite song from the film. A song by the one band on the film’s soundtrack that I do NOT give a shit about. But it is still one of my absolute favorite songs in the universe. Three Dog Night’s Joy To The World. And lucky for you, friends, I was able to find a ridiculous live version from something that clearly happened in the mid-70s, when I did not yet exist. But this video makes me wonder if I am retarded for not listening to Three Dog Night religiously for the last 20 years. You decide, okay? Louder=better.
The reason I got started on all of this was because I thought of another song that I love love love love love LOVE LOVE love. I love it like skinny Hollywood bitches love Ex-Lax. I love it like Spock loved Kirk. I love it like the 1986 Mets loved cocaine. It’s called The Letter, and it comes from another band I really don’t care about: The Box Tops. But I remember this song playing constantly on the oldies stations here when I was little, usually sandwiched between The Lovin’ Spoonful and some early Beatles (think Love Me Do or Please Mister Postman). Anyway, I found this video that made me laugh my ass off and kinda gave me a boycrush on the band’s singer, Alex Chilton. Toward the end, there is some crazy “hey we’re playing but we’re not really playing, look how fucking stupid this live TV lip-synching is, I’m not even touching the keyboard, la-dee-da” kind of shit going on. But really. I kept staring at Alex Chilton, thinking how he looks like a less-hipstery version of Stephen Malkmus (whom I’d also go gay for, obviously) with a much better LSD hookup. This faux-performance kind of makes me wish I was a beehived go-go dancing chick born in Kentucky in 1948. Because then I’d have been around to suck this guy off, and that would’ve been rad! Here, look:
Did you know I grew up just 20 miles from the “Amityville Horror House“? True story. Anyway. I remember going by there in a car with some much-older family friends when I was maybe 8 years old? And another one of my music memories is the Guess Who song Undun, which happened to be playing on the radio on the way there. The song was terrifying, and for no good reason at all. I mean, there were obviously plenty of songs that played on the way to this place, but this one sounded like a good soundtrack for murdering a family of six. To this day, I love the song. But it makes me think about a girl who becomes a crackhead and then swims down a river of blood that flows into a hole in the ground where an open casket lay waiting for her. Yep. So. I want to show you the video I found on youtube for this song. Because it’s really just Peggy Lipton (from the Mod Squad) walking around all sassy-like, and just waiting for me to go back in time and sex her up. Good jams!
I want to wrap it up in a second. But real quick. Carole King. Am I the only one that thinks she looks like what would happen if Gene Wilder and Gilda Radner managed to have a child together? Also, slightly related: James Taylor was also very fucking sexy back in the day. But yes, Carole King, Gilda and Gene’s time-traveling lovechild?? I’m pretty sure I’m on to something here. I will leave you with this video of the spacewoman in question. Again, you decide…
Note to self: This post is probably a good example of why dudes don’t read my blog.