Streaming from Australia, again, and Men at Work, again. This one came out on their second album, in 1983. The streaming in my head was triggered by a cat. I’d been asleep. They wanted out. Guess what happened? Yeah. The cat’s will be done.
Returning to bed, I started writing in my head. Writing in my head is great for my writing, but not especially helpful for sleeping. I managed to throttle back the words and divert myself with lessor matters. But I then sang, “I can’t get to sleep,” and “Overkill” streamed into my thoughts. That prompted memories of hearing the song while living on Okinawa, Japan, and the friends of the time, Mike and Lori, and Jeff, and my command post peers at the 603rd MASS. After spinning the memory Rolodex for fifteen minutes, sleep was achieved.
I was at a meet and greet in Germany in early 1988 when I first heard of this group. The meet and greet was with allied military services who were in a similar business to my unit. Among them were a couple of Australians. We had a beer together, talking music as we drank. They mentioned a group called The Church.
I’d not heard of The Church but said I’d look into them. The Church was supposed to be new wave. A few weeks after this, I hear this song on the radio, “Under the Milky Way.” The DJ says it’s The Church, from Australia. I thought, I must be confusing something, because that song didn’t sound new wave. I figured I must have misunderstood someone, or two groups named The Church existed. Eventually, as the Internet developed and things could be looked up, I checked out The Church, and reconciled myself to understanding this was the group the Australians mentioned.
I like this song, but I honestly have heard little else by The Church. I always enjoy Australian pop music — which is the comment I made that night, which got the conversation rolling.
Today’s song is from the movie, “St. Elmo’s Fire.” The song is, “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)”.
I’ve never seen the entire film. It didn’t grab me. I found it vague, with problems manufactured by unthinking, vapid, self-absorbed characters. Perhaps I should have given it a greater viewing.
I knew the song mostly because of FM Stereo. It came out in nineteen eighty-five. I was doing a lot of traveling, then, putting over forty-thousand miles on my car during the year. So I heard it a lot. I didn’t think much of the song, but it’s stuck in my head, so I present it to you.
I ordered a mocha today (four shots, twelve ounces, thanks), and this song popped into my head.
It came out the week before I traveled to Paris for business with the long-gone company, LuMend. I was a marketing manager. We’d been working on peripheral and coronary products to address chronic total occlusions, and doing trials in Australia and Brazil. Now we wanted to start a marketing study in Europe.
I was in Paris for ten days, staying at the old Hilton by the Eiffel Tower. I often sang this song to myself and my co-workers. I, of course, substituted words. The song is “Livin’ la Vida Loca,” which became “Livin’ la Vida Mocha,” in my version. The switch was made because I was, and remain, fond of mocha coffee drinks.
Here’s the real song, with Ricky Martin, from nineteen ninety-eight.
You ever think about the beginning of “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer?” “You know Dasher and Dancer…etc…Blitzen. But do you recall? The most famous reindeer of all?”
Isn’t that reversed? Wouldn’t you know the most famous of reindeer, and recall it more readily than the rest?
We averted a small disaster today. While walking yesterday, I heard a train blowing its horn. I instantly twisted a long-lost song in my mind:
“There is nothing like a train,
Nothing in this world.
There is nothing you can name,
that is anything like a train.”
It was a sorry parody of “There Is Nothing Like A Dame” from the musical, “South Pacific.” I know the song and the rest of the soundtrack well, thanks to Mom. She had it on vinyl, thirty-three R.P.M., and often played it on the stereo while cleaning the house. Her house was — is — spotless, let me tell you. I heard that song frequently.
My parody remained in my headstream until late last night. I thought I’d need to post about it to relieve get me out of the loop. Then Rod Stewart singing “Maggie May” replaced it.
So, here we are. That’s Ronnie Wood on guitar. Take it, Rod.
Today’s song, “Tin Man,” was released in nineteen seventy-four. Among the trillion events happening that year, I graduated high school and joined the U.S. Air Force.
The next year found me married, and the year after that, I was stationed at Clark Air Base in the Philippines. Our news sources were mostly the Pacific Stars & Stripes newspaper and the Armed Forces Radio and Television Services. Our local affiliate was the Armed Forces Network (AFN) Philippines. The big thing that always stood out about AFN is that they were constantly warning us about habus and finding unexploded ordinance.
I enjoyed “Tin Man” and America’s other offerings a great deal. I learned more about them because the group met because their fathers were serving in the Air Force. Thus, The Stars & Stripes and AFN carried quite a bit about them.
Here’s “Tin Man.” It’s a mellow song. Hope you’re having a mellow day, and not deeply into the many messes going on in the world.
*snark alert* I’m plagued with Christmas music for some reason today. I heard some good songs yesterday. They’re good to me; your preferences are probably different. The performers included Burl Ives, Johnny Mathis, and the Eagles. The person I was with said, “I like this song. They’re playing good music today.” Like they were telepathic, innit?
“Yes, I like Burl Ives and his cover of “Frosty the Snowman,”” I said.
“I don’t know who that is,” the other said. He’s about thirty-five years old. “Is that who it was?”
Oh, generation dagger! I’ve slipped it into others, when I was young. Now I try keeping it sheathed. I asked him about the previous two songs, by Johnny Mathis and the Eagles. They knew who the Eagles were, but didn’t know that was them playing. Johnny Mathis was another dagger.
Out of this morass, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts arrived with a song for the day. Her group hit the music scene as we were living on Okinawa. Music coverage by AFRTS was split among all the genres, so information was sparse. Most rock/pop tidbits were delivered via Casey Kasem and American Top 40, played on Sundays. When I eventually returned to America (after a few years) and saw Joan Jett on MTV at a friend’s house, I realized that she’d been part of the Runaways. Yes, that’s how slow I can be.
“I Hate Myself for Loving You” is one of my favorite J2 offerings. It has fine hard-rock harmonics, with ironic lyrics that are revealing about human nature, and the nature of our desires and attractions. You can hear Desmond Child’s influence, and recognize the similarity of the songs he wrote/co-wrote for Kiss, Aerosmith, Bon-Jovi, and others. Give it a listen.
George Benson had taken us with earlier albums and hits, but his take of “On Broadway” always enlivened the scene when it played. Released in nineteen seventy-eight, when it came on, everyone jumped up, dancing and singing along with it, and trying to scat with Benson.
Michael Seidel, writer 