#4: Head over Heels by Tears for Fears

Released: 1985 on the album Songs from the Big Chair

Written by: Roland Orzabal, Curt Smith (AKA the two vocalists for Tears for Fears with the awesome 1980s feathered locks that we all wanted. Don't lie, you wanted it as much as I did)

Head over Heels Video

     I always think of one thing when I hear this song. It is not Donnie Darko, the fantastic film that most people think of while wishing Drew Barrymore was their English teacher. No, it is a flea market in Rogers, Arkansas in the late summer of 1985. The summer before seventh grade, before the bad unwashed times, the beatings and the Members Only jacket that might have well been stapled to my torso and the Tennessee hat that was stapled to my greasy head. Jesus, no wonder I could never get a girlfriend.

     This flea market saw the purchase of my first two cassette tapes, which not only provide a nice statement about the 1980s but also about my musical tastes. I picked up from a cardboard display the following:

1. Songs from the Big Chair: I knew the song "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" and liked it. I had heard "Shout" also but thought it sucked. Thus, when I saw "Head over Heels" on the track list the Meatloaf Requirements were fulfilled: Two out of Three Ain't bad so I ponied up my $3.95 and bought it.

2. Pyromania by Def Leppard. Yes, yes. Def Leppard was awful.

    These two albums represent one of the following three things:

1. The 1980s were a time of incredible musical variety. Just add in Elvis Costello, Metallica, The English Beat.....the list goes on!
2. I had absolutely no musical taste whatsoever. Give me a fuckin' break. I was 12 and it was on the radio. 
3. This was a signal of my as-of-then undiagnosed bipolar disorder. You be the judge:
1. Head over Heels: I wanted to be with you alone/to talk about the weather
2. Photograph: Got a photograph picture of a passion killer/It's too much/You're the only one I wanna touch
3. Everybody Wants to Rule the World: Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure/Nothing ever lasts forever
4. Rock of Ages: I know for sure there ain't no cure/So feel it don't fight it/go with the flow/Gimme gimmie gimmie one more for the road

Personally I think it is #3. Most people would point to the Everest sized mountain of evidence for #2. Haters gonna hate. 

     Songs From the Big Chair was a white cassette with a rose colored label; of I remember correctly this was the same color layout of my cassette of the coke fueled awesomeness that was Black Sabbath Vol 4. What is important for me in the scope of this song is the video. This is perhaps the only song that I did not hear before I saw the video. Thus, the video runs along with the song when I hear it. It involves a guy trying to impress a librarian, a chimp wearing a Red Sox jersey, an Orthodox Jew and an awesome cut in which the keyboard flies in from the right

     Not only did this leave me utterly confused and laughing, it left me with one of my three fetishes. No, not for keyboards, but for librarians who wear glasses. Ah hell, that could have been Velma from Scooby Doo. I have always been partial to this song because of the opening notes (the 1980s version of Beethoven's Fifth) and the slow build to the drum fill at the end of the first verse. The video is completely meaningless but quite funny, a showcase for guys lip syncing with all their might in the oddest places.

     This song has staying power because of 1984 and 1985. It was quite possibly the last time I felt truly at ease with myself. In seventh grade something broke in me; in sixth grade I was happy with my lot even if dad randomly punched me from his chair and mom looked the other way. The refrain of "Don't take my heart/don't break my heart/Don't throw it away" mirrored what my parents were doing and quite possibly touched a part of me that threatened to vanish during seventh grade. When I hear this song it is pure nostalgia for a time that my family was not unalterably fractured. I was twelve, not failing classes, still bathing regularly, not getting yelled at or beaten every other day, still had a reasonable dad who once in a while got angry and then spent the next three days apologizing.

     By December of 1985 things were completely different. I was indifferent to grades, football and being alive. I was in trouble at school and routinely detained. I did this because I did not want to go home. If one looked at my behavioral record (you know, that Permanent One that I threaten kids with even though I know it does not exist) I would bet that the majority of my detentions occurred on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. These were the days I was sure that dad would be home and I would be stuck alone with him. Threats would be made and fists would be thrown. Every so often I fought back and this would make him angry. Dad was a dirty fighter, so at least my face was spared. While I can say he never gave me a black eye he did cut my scalp in several places, bruised my kidneys, hit me once in the liver which kept me at home "sick" for two days, kicked me in the knee to get me on the ground.

     In a sense, though, the worst part was the yelling. Voices raised everywhere around me. At school (Where is your book cover? Take that hat off! You are a student here not a guest! Again no homework? Why don't you try?) at home (Where the fuck have you been? It's none of your God damn business you drunk bastard. Let me in! If you tell your mother about this I'll fucking kill you, understand?). Nowhere was quiet, nowhere was easy. So while the lyrics of this song make little to no sense, they provide a small sense of comfort and hope.

Top 40 #3: Turn the Page by Bob Seger

Released: Originally in 1972; preferred is the version on Live Bullet recorded in 1975 and released in 1976.

Turn the Page "Live Bullet"

Written by: Bob Seger

      There is cheese, then there is cheese for special occasions. Then there is cheese made from goats milk from goats who graze on King Agamemnon's grave every full moon that sells for $750 an ounce. Such is Bob Seger's epic ballad "Turn the Page."

      I heard this first, as with many things, on KRNA in Iowa City. I probably then listened to this song roughly 16,000 times on the two copies of Live Bullet I owned. I loved this song, warbling along with it while the Panasonic tape recorder that my Dad stole from the University of Iowa Hospitals wore out each tape. Indeed, I taped this song from the radio several times. Once I misjudged the length of the tape remaining and listened with horror as side 1 dropped out just before the climactic sax notes that end up the song.

     As Bob sings "There I GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" and the sax comes in with more cheese than a Wisconsin dairy, there is my 9 year old voice saying "DAMNIT!" loudly enough for the Panasonic to hear but not loud enough for the parents. Regardless of the tragedy of failing to capture Bob in his Cobo Hall glory, it would have meant a shot to the mouth. I cussed in solemn quiet, only to be rewarded for about a year by my giggling. I still hear that "DAMNIT" the few times per year that I manage to listen to the entire song.

    Before you think that I am mocking Bob Seger, I am not. I credit him for finding one of my favorite duos, Ike and Tina Turner. Live Bullet opens with "Nutbush City Limits", a great song but better when belted out by Tina. I sought out that version in the times before YouTube in the only way I could, by buying a cassette of "Ike and Tina's Greatest". Needless when I listened to "Proud Mary", "Come Together" and "A Fool in Love" I was hooked. In a sense, Seger was a gateway artist, and for that I owe him big.

     You see, I hate this song now. One of many things I cannot stand from my childhood, it is a solemn monument to the God of changing taste. I loved the idea of some "long Haired Freak" wandering into some Diner filled with local yokels not unlike my parents and family. I was the Freak, and the family were the people passing judgment. Everyone does this. We identify with those who are not understood when we are teenagers or 12 year olds. When we are abused, we identify with those who have the fortitude to basically tell the world to suck a bag of dicks while taking a fist to the ribs. Such it was with Seger; I knew I was worthwhile even when people treated me like shit.

     You turn the page and move on to the next chapter. If people do not like it or "don't understand" they have to meet you in a place of commonality. If they refuse, you Turn the Page on them, family or not. While this may be shortsighted, I would answer life is too short to sweat the small bull shit. Hair too long? People bitching about your beard? Cut both when you want to, then do what as in the old Hebrew tale concerning Joshua. Joshua was invited to a feast, but showed up in rough homespun robes. He was turned away at the door despite his protestations. He returned in new robes and was ushered in with great pomp and circumstance. He responded by saying "Since it is my robes you invited, it is my robes which will stay." He then cast aside his robes and left the feast.

     I may dislike this song because it is more full of cheese than a sandwich, but I cannot turn away from its message. Don't like me or what I look like? Tough. Get to know me before you make a judgment. I make stupid mistakes, just like everyone does. How do we forgive ourselves when others do not? Mistakes ascribed to how you look should never enter into the equation, as they are not mistakes. Mistakes are made through our own choices, not the decisions of small minded others. And I mean small minded. Don't like that waiter or waitress because of their tats? Go somewhere that would not hire them to match yourself.

     Does this drive us apart? Of course it does but this is the penalty for having a free society. If you cannot accept the bulk of humanity who talk to much on cell phones or have tramp stamps you are not part of the world. I hate both of those things. Loathe them with every fiber of my fat assed being. I do not expect them to change because I want them to do so. They have to come to that point. The question as to whether or not it is a "good" thing to have or not have a tramp stamp is immaterial beside the action. We produce meaning and we can produce change. To think otherwise removes us from agency and power. I would say "Fuck that. I decide." Don't like my hair?

There I go
Playin' star again
There I go
Turn the Page

     We are all the stars in our own lives and we decide our co-stars. Don't want to be in the play? You are whether you like it or not. It's your choice to be a villain or a hero. I want to be a hero in everyone's play. We should never want to be less.

Entertainment and Conversation at the Super Bowl

Conversation
A good crowd here today.
The woman next to me says I never
date a man who doesn't drink
isn't over 5'10
and didn't go to college.
Men in neutral ties talk silently about the game
there is only the buzz and clinking of barware.
What dating site?
Raiders suck this is a sausage fest.

I know you! Brady's drums, right!
One of the many misguided attempts to be a musician
brought me into this mans orbit. We talk about
music. Genesis, mostly. The Lamb Lies Down
while the game goes on not watched.

Commercial Break
The crowd groans at the stereotypes
kissing each other. Good for both of them
everyone convinced that she, being considered
exceptionally beautiful must be an exceptional
kisser. And he, being considered exceptionally
nerdy must not be. We know he can kiss better
than the chiseled because Hollywood tells us so:
All jocks think about is sports
All nerds think about is sex.

If I was single I could not begin
to know how to start a conversation.
The ladies lecherously size up the package
contained by Calvin Klein.
The men call them gay I laugh and say
"I wouldn't kick him out of bed."
And the ladies laugh and agree
while Paul gets angry at me.

Movies and movies and cream in the jeans
Iron Man is on the scene. Is there an 80s cartoon
not made into a movie? We got GI Joe and Transformers.
We got two White Houses blowing up.
We got retro chic for a time I remember
that makes me feel sick.

Entertainment
Alicia's anthem was too long or was too loungey
or just right.
Calling her lovely belittles the incandesence.
And on the TV a titillating train wreck of a dance starts.
And she is beautiful and sparkling and majestic and everything
an idol who also sings.
I love the fishnets and those thighs.
Is there a game on?
Does it even matter?

Top 40 #2: Inside by Jethro Tull

Year: 1970
Record: Benefit
Written by: Ian Anderson...you know, the person whom most people think is named Jethro Tull. The flute player and guy with the beard.

Inside

I wrote a poem about this not too long ago, as it is the song that got me interested in Tull. I was driving down College St. in front of the public library when I first heard this song, and was instantly smitten. For that, this song has brought me two things in most unequal measure:

1. Happiness
2. Grief

First, the happiness.

What grabbed me about this song was the flute hook. So happy and jaunty, it set off everything nicely. Also the lyrics about Counting Lambs and Sheep. Who the hell writes songs about that? This should have warned me about Tull, in that Anderson writes lyrics that veer between fun, obtuse, obscene, decadent and inscrutable, sometimes within one album (Thick as a Brick, Passion Play). This song stands for being in some place that is happy and secure, about not worrying about the past or future but reveling in the present for all its wonders.

Sitting in the corner feeling glad
Got no money comin' in but I can't be sad
That was the best cup of coffee I ever had!
And I won't worry 'bout a thing because we've got it made
Here on the inside outside so far away

But in reality it is not important for what it says but what it is, a gateway piece of music to my own rock and roll shame. I love Jethro Tull's music, and that may mark me as an incorrigible dick. What Ian Anderson does is engage my inner 12 year old struggling to be witty or at least witty while proving Tom Lehrer's dictum that "When correctly viewed, everything is lewd." In Tull's case, you don't really have to look to far. From the opening lines of "Aqualung" (Sitting on a park bench/Eyeing little girls with bad intent) to the despicable rock star in "Pied Piper" (I've a tenner in my skin tight jeans/You can touch it if your hands are clean) to eager farmer confronted with the gentry in "Hunting Girl" (Boot leather flashing the spurnecks the size of my thumb/This high born hunter had tastes as strange as they come) Tull is filthy and silly at the same time.

Or, who writes songs about their cats? "Look out little furry folk, it's the all night working cat!" Tull's songs bring me no end of joy because of the humor and musicianship. One thing that I have learned about music is that it is like wine. If you like it, it's good. I feel absolutely no shame in liking the song "Call Me Maybe" because it is catchy as fuck. I'm old enough to realize that now, where I was not in a place for this wisdom when I heard "Inside" sandwiched in a 4 song set along with "Cross Eyed Mary", "Bungle in the Jungle" and "Fat Man". Before I heard this song in the long gone Alabaster Disaster, I listened to in many ways what was expected of me regardless. Now, even though I still appreciate the Ramones, I don't really like their music much anymore. I'd rather listen to the Clash from that era, or perhaps the Dead Kennedys. Why? It says something to me. That is the point of everything. If it does not speak to you, then don't do it. Inside started that realization, and none too late.

This leads me to Grief.
I have taken more shit for liking Tull than for being a fan of the Pittsburgh Pirates. More people mock me for this than anything else. Lie to your boss? Steal a lollipop from a six year old out in front of the 7/11? Violate a toddler with a plastic goldfish? All of this pales in comparison to liking Tull. They are the best example of "the dinosaur era of self-indulgent Progressive Rock". They put out........CONCEPT ALBUMS! Their songs are too long, the time changes too rapid. Their sense of humor is awful and bordering on sexist, you swine!

 Add in the fact that you are a know-it-all-prick when you correct some clown who describes Jethro Tull as a "he" or point out that Tull, like Led Zeppelin, was better on acoustic numbers, and you have a fat shit burger to eat. C'mon, a fucking flute?????!!??!?!?!? They won a Grammy when Metallica should have won! For a heavy metal album!

Well, chief, that was 26 years ago or something, we all know the Grammys are meaningless pieces of gold plated douchebaggery and that Metallica is the one band in the observable universe that should not have given two fucks about winning a Grammy. Jethro Tull's frontman shows One Of The Great Truths In Life.

Ian Anderson, now 66, no longer needs to play to make money. But he does. He signs autographs after shows (mine is on my bookcase upstairs) and seeks out new Tull fans opinions about the music and readily mocks himself and gives roughly $400,000 a year to charity. He is an example that life is best enjoyed while doing something you love. He writes songs that he wants to write, not what Rolling Stone wants or what record company asshats want. Isn't that the whole damn point of being a rocker? Isn't that the whole point of being alive?

Top 40: A life in Songs

If we could pick 40 songs that define our lives, what would they be? What would be the criteria? How would we pick them out of the thousands of things floating around the aether?

I decided to answer this self-made challenge, and create an autobiography in the meantime. Yes, yes, who will really care about what songs are important to me, or what lyrics resonate with me. And to that I answer I do not know. All I do know is that wherever I go or whomever I speak to I always find songs that mean a lot to people. Why? Who knows. We do not spend enough time with what means something to us or trying to see why it struck us in that way when it did. But there are enough shared songs out there to create meaning for everyone.

#1: Handle With Care -- The Travelling Wilburys

Year: 1988
Record: Travelling Wilburys Vol. 1
Written by: Traveling Wilburys. This song was inspired by a box in Bob Dylan's recording studio labeled "Handle With Care".  All of the Wilburys contributed to the song.

Handle With Care


This song represents all I have ever wanted from someone. And, coincidentally, all that the beloved Rachel has given me.

I'm so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give

This may be Roy Orbison's one trick pony on this song, but it is genius. He was more than "Only the Lonely" and proved it on this album. For those of us on the cusp of lifetime loneliness his voice put feeling to what we were afraid of the most. Remembered for one thing and one thing only from 25 years ago. Cue the fast forward to 2016 reunion, alone and drunk.

Been beat up and battered around
Been set up and been shot down
You're the best thing that I've ever found
Handle me with Care

This is the single item I could ever tell my wife that made sense. Why? Who cares. How? Just do what you do. Handle me with care.

 When I first heard this song back in 10th grade, George Harrison touched my soul with a hot poker. It was a plea from a pseudo-dark place. My Dad was gone but not forgotten, showing up in the bars downtown to upbraid my friends for being drunk on school nights. He was drunk on work nights every day from 1950 to 1992. I was allowing him to crawl in drunk through my bedroom window twice a week, risking a tongue lashing from Mom for doing so but realizing that it was better than an ass kicking from Dad. He hit much harder than Mom, and knew where to place knees and elbows,

Handle me with care.

Why? I'm broken. Mentally shot and ground down. To drunk sometimes to realize what is best. Handle me with care. Orbison's lament is powerful for those who are lonely but also meaningful for those who are not. I still have a lot to give! Who doesn't? At the end of our ropes we look for those who would use us as an escape route, climbing to a place where we want to go ourselves. It makes us worthy of being alive; worthy of being the people others see us for but for which we remain blind. Such is the way of the depressed and self-abusing.

Won't you show me that you really care?

Is this sex? It is for some. For everyone, it is being with someone. Being present for the talks, naked and clothed. Being present for the failure and the success. That is how I have failed. I am absent in most days. I've leaned on Rachel for 20 years. Take her away and I fall apart. When she is angry it is an earthquake of unknown supports. My leans cause anger, always have and always will. Can I stop this slide?

I've been robbed and ridiculed.

You damn right I can.