Observation: I'm not a particular fan of Doctor Who, and I'm definitely not a fan of the Sugababes (well not musically, at any rate) but I can't help noticing the similarity: every so often, the Doctor will regenerate himself as a completely different person, albeit retaining the brand name of Doctor Who.
The Sugababes, every so often, will also...weeeell- you see where I'm going with this.
The Sugababes, every so often, will also...weeeell- you see where I'm going with this.
Watch out ladies: I'm on to you.
Russian Nesting Blog:
ReplyDeleteThey always go in threes.
This week marked the deaths of three backbones of American pop culture.
Peter Graves played: the army officer in the 1950s sci-fi classic "Beginning of the End" in which giant grasshoppers attack New York City; the father in the late 50s US TV show (filmed, weirdly, in Australia, which was not even on any American map of the world as late as 1955) "Fury" ("the story of a horse and the boy who loved him," a tag line even a 6 year-old me sensed was pushiong the bounds of good taste); Jim Phelps in "Mission Impossible" ("Good luck, Jim. This tape will self-destruct in 5 seconds"); and Victor, the pilot in "Airplane" ("Joey, do you like gladiator movies?").
Fess Parker played two manly American icons: Davy Crockett ("Born on a mountain-top in Tennessee/Greenest place in the land of the free/Raised in the woods so he know every tree/Killed him a b'ar when he was only three..."); and Daniel Boone ("Daniel Boone was a man/Yes, a b-i-i-g man/With an eye like an eagle, and a butt like a beagle...").
And Alex Chilton.
Of the three, it's the last that affects me most. "Fury," "Davy Crockett" and "Daniel Boone" are all terra firma of my childhood cultural mulch, but I saw Alex Chilton and his second band Big Star two years ago in a memorable show at the Shepherd's Bush Empire, so he sparks memories both nascent and adult.
Alex Chilton was about 17 years old when his first band the Box Tops hit with "The Letter" ("Gimme a ticket for an airplane/Ain't got time to take no fast train"), which he sang like a 50-something black man. With his second band Big Star, he changed his style completely and sang like Neil Young with post-nasal drip. But Big Star was a huge influence on REM, and Alex Chilton could therefore make a legitimate claim to being The Godfather of Indie Rock. Or College Radio. Or Emo. I heard a Big Star song at the end of a recent episode of House, and it could have been done by any angst-ridden coffee-house singer born post-1984. Not everyone's thing, I admit, but something that resonates loud and clear with self-absorbed suburbanites like me.
My favorite Indie band ever, the Replacements, wrote two homages to Alex Chilton: one was simply called "Alex Chilton; the other was the iconically named "Left of the Dial."
Sample lyrics:
"...'cause children by the millions/wait for Alex Chilton/when he comes around/singing I'm in love/what's that song?/I'm in love/with that song."
And
"...if I don't hear you/for a long, long while/I know where to find you/Left of the Dial/Left of the Dial/Left of the Dial..."
And Big Star. Great name for a band fronted by a guy who hit number one when still a teenager. The ultimate sardonic. RIP, Alex Chilton, who was just 59.