Saturday, February 18, 2006

Song Forty-Nine

I am writing whilst eating those pre-sliced, never-brown apples so prominently featured in the NYT Magazine a couple weeks back. These are the foodstuffs that--along with the "milk rather than coke" option--are supposed to make you feel okay about getting your children Happy Meals; apparently, through some fairy magic, they neutralize parental guilt about whatever is wicked about chicken nuggets (aka "kid crack"). The slices are "rich in Vitamin C" which makes me question their naturalicity a bit as apples are not traditionally a "rich in Vitamin C" food. Now, if they could just inject them with protein and calcium, I'd be set. Apples, the other-other white meat!

On an unrelated but musical note, earlier this week I saw John Legend on Martha, making mac and cheese. The mac and cheese looked quite good and easy to make, though John and Martha differed on the amount of paprika to sprinkle on top. I'm sure this will do wonders for his street cred. He invited Martha to work out with him; she declined but it turns out they both workout at Chelsea Piers. Perhaps KW will produce Martha's next Rhino compilation: Straight Out of the Hamptons.

For song forty-nine, I picked a jangly New Pornographers' tune "All For Swinging You Around." It is quite upbeat, and somewhere beneath the surface alterna-sheen, there's a very Bangles/Go-Gos feel here. The drum break is particularly appealing. You could do the watusi to this one. There are points when the lead vocalist (I guess it's Neko Case) reminds me of Kirsty MacColl; there's a nice knowing-ness to her voice in this song. This is very much a sing-a-long car song. Until I found the lyrics online, I consistently thought the line, "Exploding international, the wind did howl," was "Washington National, the wind did howl." I'm actually a bit sad now, because I personally related to my version, flying into DC in the cold winter winds. So, I think I'll continue to sing it my way.

316 to go.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Songs Forty-Seven and Forty-Eight

Hey, I found my scuff! It had a few tiny toothmarks, but otherwise was none the worse for wear. Yay! So, I'm in quite the celebratory mood. Also, my dissertation chair told me I'm on a real fast-track; my editor had only two teeny changes to a recently revised article; my son is actually using the "big potty" on an ongoing basis; my daughter cleaned her own room; and my husband will consider getting me a dog as a gift when I complete my doctorate (guess what I've been watching--arf, arf). So, let the boogie begin . . .

Song Forty-Seven: Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock, "It Takes Two." The minute I hear "hit it," it's all over. My parents lived outside Detroit during the Bad Boys years, and I will forever associate this song with the wait in the Auburn Hills parking lot after games because it was always booming from someone's ride into the cold, cold night. The "whoo" sample along is worth the price of admission. Plus, there's something so amusing, innocent, and pure about the lines, "I want to rock right now / I'm Rob Base and I came to get down / I'm not internationally known / But I'm known to rock the microphone." There are just a few songs that really thrill me on some super-deep level the moment I hear the first note. This is one. (Outkast's "BOB" is another, but I own that and it would be unfair to include it. Even though it's one of the best songs ever, forever ever.)

Song Forty-Eight: Heatwave, "The Groove Line." You know it, you love it, you danced to it at a frat party or your prom, you shout "hoo, hoo" along to it, you "leave your worries behind" the minute it comes on. I dare you to resist the force of the groove line. Here, try this experiment. Back this song with the Gap Band's "Burn Rubber" or "You Dropped a Bomb on Me" and play the two over and over next time you have a par-tay. Time how long it takes anyone to notice. I guarantee it will be longer than a very special Love Boat movie. That is the power of the funk, dear reader! (It can even overcome the shock experienced when seeing a photo of the band.)

317 to go.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Song Forty-Six

I'm off today to crank out a spreadsheet identifying factors that influence community college student completion as expressed in the literature (isn't that a great research term: "the literature"; it's so self-contained) and how this list maps to the elements within my massive dissertation data set. Jealous? Well, to ease my number-crunched mind, I also worked in a quick shopping trip, where I discovered these super-cute cashmere blend scuffs (with bows!) . . . on clearance. So, dear reader, I bought them and have been wearing them all day while reading pdf files. Then, for a moment, I kicked them off and ran upstairs to prepare the hallway for a door installer (who is coming to make my son's dreams come true by installing his Buzz Lightyear door). And, when I came back downstairs, there was only one. One of my worthless cats has absconded with the other and is no doubt hiding somewhere eating it as I write. I've looked all over and cannot find it. Such is life--small moments of happiness linked by long periods of despair. Okay, maybe that's a bit over the top given that I've lost a slipper, but I really liked them!

Anyway, on to song forty-six, given my trauma, I searched iTunes on slipper and found the Cocktail Slippers, an all-girl rock band from Oslo, Norway (you read that correctly). Their website contains the headline, "Cocktail Slippers Tour Netherland and Belgium Again," and for some reason, the "again" just strikes me as hilarious. From their limited ouevre, I selected "Rock 'n Roll Babe." Maybe it's just me, but sometimes you can listen to a "rock" song and immediately tell it's from not-America. This is one of those songs. This is not rock. It's very perky and cute and easily could be performed in a mall or by a band on a sitcom. The Cocktail Slippers are clearly girls not grrls. The song does have an odd flight attendant intro and outro; perhaps they spend a lot of time on planes flying from the Netherlands to Belgium.

319 to go.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Song Forty-Five

This is a hit-and-run entry. I've downloaded a few songs that I haven't yet blogged about, and rather than do an all boogie-blog (which is coming soon, dear reader), I'll do an "Uh, Christmas is over" entry--this being what my husband said in passing through the room when I clicked on the Magnetic Fields' "100,000 Fireflies." Indeed, it has a bell-like sound through the early section that sounds like Rudolph is on his way, and the lead singer's voice is child-choir high. This makes it difficult to tell if she truly says, "it makes me want to kill myself" at one point--but the lyrics are clearly downbeat. Still, this sentiment certainly does capture an aspect of the heart-holiday for the lovelorn, and it is ridiculously cold outside. So, ho-ho-ho! Merry Valentine's!

320 to go.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Song Forty-Four

Golly, we have a lot of clothes! But, they're all folded, and most are even put away. And, for good measure, I cleaned the kitchen and living room. I'm so industrious. It must be the Olympics halo-effect. Every two years, I relive my imaginary career as a curler or figure skater or gymnast or shot putter and feel that I really must kick some order and rigor into my life. And, at this point in my life, it's more productive (and realistic, probably) to clean than do triple lutzes. Plus, since this is pre-Valentine's weekend, I could both tidy the homestead and catch bits and pieces of a day-long ABC Family romance-a-rama ("heaven, I'm in heaven"). So, in honor of my ultra-peppy mood, song Forty-Four is the Pizzicato Five's "Twiggy Twiggy/Twiggy v. James Bond." Now, if you've never heard P5, you're in for an ultra-Asian treat. This is probably one of their better known songs. P5 is upbeat lounge music for your favorite Chunking Express-esque noodle bar. They would be the band playing in a Godzilla movie if it panned through a happening discotheque right before he stomped through (think white go-go boots). This particular song rushes along with perky percussion, (likely) faux horns, and breathy-girly vocals. I dare you not to do the twist to this one.

321 to go.