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Words in a Row

Spelling and grammer and all that stuff--supposibly its like, real important!

Category

Music Stuff

 

A Churnin’ Urn o’ Burnin’ FUNK!

Before Rohyp­nol, Jethro Tull T‑shirts were, alas, the only way a lot of guys could get laid.

The Helicopter Song

I love the smell of The Surfaris first thing in the morning!

I love the smell of The Sur­faris first thing in the morning!

John Denver Was an Alien and He Killed Himself and All I Got Out Of it Was This Boring Childhood

John Den­ver did­n’t die, kid. He just went home.

Robert Plant and the Commando Lunge

Inter­est­ing fac­toids about Led Zep­pelin. Smell at your own risk.

A Hell of a Band

This post is about a song by The Right­eous Broth­ers. I don’t know if they real­ly were right­eous, but I do know they weren’t brothers.

Fishes in the Deep Blue Sea

Death has an iPhone 5s and a pair of Beats headphones?

Children of the Sun

It was the '70s, okay? Everything had to have a vaguely erotic nude airbrushed chrome hood ornament thingy.

It’s been at least 35 years since I thought of this song. If you were in high school in the late ’70s, you’ll prob­a­bly shriek in hor­ror and out­rage just from see­ing the title and artist: “Chil­dren of the Sun” by Bil­ly Thor­pe. If, like me, you bought the album, you no doubt remem­ber Thor­pe and the rest of band looked mighty weird, even by ’70s stan­dards: In addi­tion to the req­ui­site vague­ly erot­ic nudeRead More

He Is He Said

Writ­ing any­thing auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal is kind of like the sec­ond verse in that Neil Dia­mond song “I Am I Said”: Did you ever read about a frog Who dreamed of bein’ a king And then became one? Well except for the names And a few oth­er changes Like leav­ing out irrel­e­vant stuff and com­press­ing the time­line a bit And not bor­ing your read­ers with stuff that’s only inter­est­ing to you And try­ing to include a few minor details for col­or with­out look­ingRead More

We and Mrs. Jones

The three-headed cover art suddenly makes a lot more sense.

And now, chil­dren, hear and remem­ber the tale of me, Bil­ly Paul, Mrs. Jones, my friend Rob, and my dog Meat­ball: Long, long ago, in a lit­tle state named Kansas, which no one wants to admit com­ing from except the clas­sic rock band Kansas and pos­si­bly Bob Dole, two young men and a dog were tool­ing around town in the leg­endary mus­cle car  Charles the Deep Breather, which prob­a­bly sounds sil­ly because you weren’t there,Read More

To Gilligan or Not to Gilligan

Yes, you're right: The Simpsons never appeared on Gilligan's Island. How very clever of you.

You know what’s wrong with kids these days? I’ll tell ya what’s wrong with kids these days! When I was a kid, every­one I knew was famil­iar with the aria “Votre toast je peux vous le ren­dre” from the opera Car­men, aka “The Tore­ador Song” (skip ahead to 1:12): No, we weren’t opera buffs. Bear with me a sec. Car­men is an unusu­al opera, giv­en that its libret­to was orig­i­nal­ly in French. Here are the orig­i­nal lyricsRead More