The premise for this classic song came from Pete Townshend winning a 7-figure settlement in the late 1970s, which made him feel horrible, because he devoted a lot of time and energy to an endeavor that only resulted in a check. He drowned his sorrows in booze and ran into Steve Jones and Paul Cook of the Sex Pistols at a local pub. He ranted at them, saying that the Who were finished, that the Pistols needed to take over and “finish the job” … whatever that meant. He then dramatically ripped up his check and stomped on it several times. Jones and Cook looked perplexed and expressed their sorrow about a possible break-up of the Who, to which Townshend snarled “I’m disappointed in you!” and staggered off into the night. He passed out in a shop doorway and was awakened by a patrol man who told Townshend, “As a special treat, if you can get up and walk away, you can sleep in your own bed tonight.” Townshend made it home, passed out, and the next morning wrote “Who Are You?”
The version in this video is different than the version most people know. There’s some nice footage of the band, including Keith Moon who would soon pass away, goofing around and having a great time in the studio.
Now back to “Sneakin’ in the Movies” … By the winter of 1985, I had had unparallelled success buying tickets to R-rated films before the age of 17 in my very conservative home town, probably due to my height. So, when me and some friends of mine wanted to see “Porky’s Revenge” on opening weekend, we thought we had a lock on achieving this goal … (OK, I hear you sneering out there … like you were sipping espresso at the local art house discussing a revival of “L’Avventura” when you were 15 … kiss my Antonioni!) …
However, when I went to buy the tickets, I heard words I had never heard before at a box-office: “May I see some ID?” I fumbled out the lame “Oh, I think I left it at home” and bought 3 tickets to a PG-13 film called “The Sure Thing” instead. Since my friends and I were bound and determined to see “Porky’s Revenge,” we simply walked into the theater showing “Porky’s Revenge” and sat down. Unfortunately for us, several other people our age had the same idea, because the film sold out and there were about 50 patrons who bought tickets who couldn’t find a seat. The usher sized up what was happening real fast and announced “We know there are people here that shouldn’t be here. I’m going to come back in 3 minutes and start checking ticket stubs.” We took that as our cue to check out “The Sure Thing.”
Now, “The Sure Thing” was not a completely unknown choice. I knew Rob Reiner (director of “This is Spinal Tap”) had directed it and it had gotten some good notices by critics, so I figured it couldn’t be that bad. Granted, the premise is rom-com hell to the nth degree (wacky-nutty he-man tries to impress a beautiful but uptight woman), but I remember the film got a lot of praise at the time because it was a teen sex comedy with heart … unusual at the time (this was 14-years before “American Pie”). Anyway, I wound up liking it a lot, thought it was funny as hell, and loved John Cusack’s character Walter Gibson.
Riding a wave of nostalgia recently, I watched it again … and well … I’m sorry to say this movie has not aged well … at all. Don’t get me wrong. I really like Cusack as an actor, like many of Rob Reiner’s films, and still have a little crush on Daphne Zuniga, the lead actress. But Cusack’s character in this film is a complete tool. Maybe that contradictory “wacky-nutty-he-man” thing was mildly sexy to women 30 years ago, but I can’t imagine any woman giving this d-bag a fifth look these days. If you disagree, then I think you’re confusing your memory with other Cusack characters (i.e. “Say Anything”) who were a lot more charming … mainly because they didn’t try so hard. This film is so annoying that even Katherine Heigl wouldn’t act in it. Sometimes, memories and nostalgia are not what they’re cracked up to be.
One of the most devastatingly cruel and funny prank calls I’ve ever heard. This is obviously not a call conducted by Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits but by someone else using the name of Mark Knopfler. I’ve heard other “Knopfler” calls and none of them reach the heights (or depths) of this masterpiece.
“Wall of Death” is the closing song of Richard and Linda Thompson’s bleak album from 1982, “Shoot out the Lights.” For those who don’t know (and I didn’t know until recently), a “wall of death” is (according to Wikipedia) actually “a carnival attraction featuring a silo- or barrel-shaped wooden cylinder, ranging from 20 to 36 feet in diameter, inside of which motorcyclists, or the drivers of miniature automobiles, travel along the vertical wall and perform stunts, held in place by centrifugal force.”
I always thought “Wall of Death” was a metaphor for suicide or something equally dark. And for all I know, it could be. However, now that I know what a real “wall of death” is, I think the song has a different meaning in the context of the album (which many take as a song cycle about the Thompsons’ impending divorce). Since the Thompsons were still together when the album was completed (they didn’t divorce until the album was released), I now see the song in a more positive light. I think the song could be an affirmation of the importance to keep things going in an otherwise strong relationship, even though the going can be tough and scary at times. The song could also be an affirmation of how many people still seem to look for love, even though it can be a scary ride, because, as the lyrics say, “it’s the nearest to being free.” Again, given the context of what was going on with the Thompsons at the time, I could be completely wrong. But I’m also happy to believe there’s possibly a more positive meaning to a great song I always thought was unbearably bleak.
The accompanying video shows some classic stills from real “walls of death” over the years.
Here’s the late 1970s punk equivalent of the “east coast v west coast” gangsta rap battles of the 1990s … only with significantly fewer dead bodies. Punks always caused more harm to themselves than to others.
In this corner is the Sex Pistols’ “New York,” which sneeringly spits on the New York Dolls and Johnny Thunders’ follow-up band, The Heartbreakers for being drug-addled hippie tarts.
In the opposite corner is Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers performing “London Boys,” which chastises the Sex Pistols for little boys under the thumb of their manager Malcolm McLaren.
As to who won … well, it’s hard to say. Thunders may have won the battle, because when he recorded “London Boys” for his album “So Alone,” the Pistols’ guitarist Steve Jones and drummer Paul Cook played on the song (a nice way to bury the hatchet). However, the Sex Pistols are in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Dolls currently aren’t, so the Pistols may have won the war. Except that the Pistols protested their inclusion, so maybe that means they lost. Who knows? Who cares? Both songs are funny and immensely cool and I love both.
The version of “London Boys” included here is an earlier version that was an outtake from the Heartbreaker’s “L.A.M.F.” album from 1977. I like the version on Thunders’ “So Alone” album, but I prefer this earlier version.
One of my favorite Runaways songs, “Take It or Leave It” features Joan Jett on vocals, a molar-loosening drum sound by Sandy West, and a twin guitar attack by Jett and Lita Ford. From the 1977 album “Queens of Noise.”
A favorite from the early days of MTV, circa 1982. Those were the days when there so few videos to choose from, MTV basically played everything. It wasn’t uncommon to see Adrian Belew mixed in with the J. Geils Band, Rod Stewart, Duran Duran, the Clash, etc.
The primitive computer graphics and high contrast shot-on-video look may seem cheesy, but I have a very soft spot in my heart for this kind of stuff. Also, that beautifully sick rhino guitar sound that Belew patented is always a wonder to hear. From Belew’s album “Lone Rhino.”
Arguably, the funniest anti-drug song ever written. But just because it’s funny doesn’t mean it’s any less tragic. A good example of how you can deliver an effective message without a sledgehammer. Admittedly, the video sends some mixed messages, though I do like the nod to “Cheech and Chong’s Nice Dreams.” Jay and Silent Bob (Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith) make the expected cameos.
Here is one of the coolest collaborations of the 1990s: the B-52s’ Fred Schneider mixing it up with noise-rock pioneer Steve Albini as producer. On the surface, this sounds like a recipe for disaster, but Fred proves he could have a great hardcore punk singer, more than holding his own against the slamming wind tunnel of sound behind him. From the album “Just Fred.”
Sorry to kill your buzz from “Silver Machine,” but this is Hawkwind’s trippy space-rock amped up to punk speed by the Pixies. From the wildly underrated 1991 album “Trompe Le Monde,” here’s “Planet of Sound.”
Dave's Strange World 