Twenty years ago, radio stations across America banded together and played “We Are The World” at 12 noon. Twenty gosh damn years. Good lord. I know this not because I’m that smart, but because the DJ on the XM 80′s channel told me so this morning during my morning commute. This was of course followed by them playing the song.
Now, normally I sing along with the radio. Its like my personal concert hall. If I’m feeling particularly ornery, I’ll even mimic the original singer. Due to my double feature movie night last night, where I made a meat & cheese tray for myself to consume while I watched “Dodgeball” and “A Mighty Wind”, I was feeling extradinarily ornery. So in the span of 4 minutes, I sang poorly in a vain attempt to mimic no less than 25 performers.
Here’s my tips on how to do a bad but funny singing impersonation of the USA For Africa performers, based on 20 years of butchering, hemming and hawing:
Archive for » January, 2005 «
A friend of mine sent me a newspaper clipping from the Houston Press, an entertainment newspaper in Houston this week. Its dated September 23, 2004, so its a couple months old, but its not really time-sensitive material, so its still relevant to argue with.
(Sorry, a quick Google for the article online turned up nothing, so I can’t link to it.)
The title of the article: Introducing the most hated men in rock (besides Sting)
Right off the bat, I have a problem. What, only men in rock can be hated? No women? OK, not sure how I feel about that, but I’m willing to hear you out.
OK, on with the arguments. The article is written by one Mike Seely. His criteria are, in his own words, “Have talent, use it well for a substantial period of time, then squander it for commercial riches, fame or forced mass appeal.” So that makes them hated? Really? So he equates making cash and being popular as bad. Nice.
Editors Note: The following was originally published on BeA Design Group on January 27, 2005.
If you’re like me and you watch a lot of football, you’ve no doubt been smacked over the head with ads for ED drugs like Levitra or Viagra. Now, I suppose this is exactly the target market for these drugs — a predominently male audience, presumably half of which is 40 and over — but for the other half, its just gross. I mean, I don’t want to hear about satisfaction problems, etc, and I certainly can do without the fine print line Levitra has to include (In the rare event a CENSORED lasts longer than four hours, call your doctor immediately). If it wasn’t for the Coors Light commercials, I might have to TiVo games and avoid the commercials altogether.
So these ridiculous ads are ripe for someone to parody them. Lo and behold, its happened. But you’ll never guess who is behind the parody campaign.
Editors Note: The following was originally published on BeA Design Group on January 25, 2005. This old safety poster for Northwestern Bell Phone Company is one of the greatest things I’ve seen in days. Weeks maybe. I salvaged it from the trash compactor only yesterday. It reads: “A Nightmare Of Pain: Attack of the Vampire Stapler”. …the story of a mild-mannered stapler, who turns into a vicious vampire, when handled incorrectly…causing hand injuries to Northwestern Bell employees. Also starring: Priscilla Fine Point, Boris Karloffice, and featuring Bella La Razor Rated PR A simple safety message — be careful when you use you stapler, so that you don’t hurt yourself — is turned into an effective communication tool with the use of some humor.
I had no idea that so many people knew the words to “These Dreams” by Heart. I mean, its quite possibly the worst of their mid-80s sellout pop hits from their eponymous album. Recall, Heart is the band that wrote “Barracuda” and then sold their soul for pop success in 1985. Of the half-dozen songs that you couldn’t escape from on the radio and MTV, “These Dreams” is the worst. So how shocking was it to be at The Homy Inn on Saturday night and have that song come on the jukebox, and the entire place break out in song during the chorus? That ain’t right.
Understand, it was NOT me who played this musical horror on the jukebox. Oh, my table had been trying to get me to program a few bucks worth of Tom-approved songs. But I was either too timid or too lazy to do so. As long as there was beer in my bottle, I wasn’t getting up for anything. Now, if someone had played Gerardo (“Rico Suave”), that would be enough to get me up. Outside of that, no chance.
My buddy’s quasi-girlfriend was really trying to get me to play Wilson Philips. This prompted my brother and I to bust out laughing, before doing the Chris Farley impersonation of Carnie Wilson (“Lay off me I’m starving!”). I’m telling you right this instant, I’ll eat a steaming pile of lizard poop before I play Wilson Philips on a jukebox. Good lord. Why would you do that?
Based on the young arts crowd that generally gathers at the Homy, I’m thinking a playlist of early 90s one hit wonders would be enough to be a jukebox star. My buddy David always plays Television’s “Marquee Moon”, which while it is a great song, is not the proper selection for a bar jukebox. First of all, its 12 minutes long. Second, no one knows the freaking words to that song. Fine, Tom, so what would you play, you say? Well, I’d play songs everyone knows and can mutually enjoy, without the residual feeling of remorse that might come from playing Wilson Philips.
Spin Doctors (“Two Princes”). Ace of Base (“The Sign” or “Don’t Turn Around”, your pick). Neneh Cherry (“Buffalo Stance”). Mr. Big (“To Be With You”). Us3 (“Cantaloop: Flip Fantasia”). 4 Non Blondes (“What’s Up?”). Blind Melon (“No Rain”). Snow (“Informer”). Divinyls (“I Touch Myself”). You can’t go wrong with any of these selections. For people in their mid-twenties, these are songs from our middle school and high school days. We all know the words. Play the songs, sing along, be a fucking star. Do it.
Alas, I elected to play the ass song and sit still while somebody played Heart. What was I thinking?