Oh you totally knew this was coming. Like there is any other song I could post on Wednesday during Shame Week. (Happily I don’t own any Venga Boys. This entry could have taken way longer to come up with.) And don’t pretend like you don’t secretly love this song. It’s a great song! It’s also so terrible that I have never once wondered what it actually means. It just doesn’t make that much of a difference to me. It’s fun to yell “maaayaHEEE, maaayaHOOO” while bopping up and down at a house party, and that’s good enough for me.
This is such a bonkers piece in a way and I just love it. It’s so very Broadway, with some serious “West Side Story” throwbacks from around 1:55 to 2:15; it’s got a very Latin vibe to it; and its various rhythms give it a colorful brightness that other stolid versions just don’t have. It’s a good piece for today – Pentecost Sunday, the day that (according to the Bible) Jesus’s disciples received the Holy Spirit through wind and fire and baptized thousands of people. In effect, it’s the day the Christian church was born.
Look at me! I’m in tatters! So I’m going to go play kickball in the park today. And then? I might take a nap. And after that? I might go dancing. Success success success! Does it matter? Pride and joy and dirty dreams – that’s what makes our town the best. Also: kickball in the park. That’s my reasoned opinion.
Some Saturdays, you want to relax in a hammock, or take a long walk around town, or go for a hike, or file, or spy on your neighbors, or read the complete works of Kierkegaard. Then there are other, special Saturdays when you want to gather all your best friends, get a suite at the Ritz, make a number of cocktails, play MarioKart on the TV, and have an adult slumber party. This is one of those Saturdays.
I know. It’s the first work day after a long weekend. We’ll get through it together. Throw your shoulders back and march into the office with vigor and aplomb. Make up a story about how you got that sunburn that’s even better than the truth. No one will believe you actually went paddle-boating anyway.
I was going to hesitate to assert that this is the finest song one could listen to on Memorial Day, since it embodies the stereotypical Memorial Day activities of barbecuing and playing the clarinet, and then I realized that this my blog and I can assert whatever I damn well please. So: this is the finest song one can listen to on Memorial Day – barbecue, clarinet, etc. I will also assert that this is the finest version of this finest song. I do love Jim Cullum and his Happy Jazz Band, but you have to love Ray McKinley’s panache.
I do love a good 90s pop throwback sound. I also love a three day weekend after a long period of suck. And I especially love being able to wander around D.C. with my man, watch movies, hang out with friends, and do absolutely nothing of any value. So, Saturday. Man am I big fan of Saturday.
I’m about to head into three days of mostly day-long meetings and I am fully anticipating that they will be feel and sound like this, one of my favorite pieces by Argentine tango genius, Astor Piazzolla. Put a group of fun, smart, interesting people together in a room, give them a cool topic and a lot of coffee, and watch them go. Nothing better.
To follow up on yesterday’s super-inspiring Peruvian llamas post, about which a number of you wrote me to suggest perhaps I needed a vacation (thanks, genius), here’s a song that will make you feel like you just won one for free. And because you got lippy with me, I’m going to tell you, in the longest, wordiest possible way, how it was I came to find this song. Aren’t you excited? …Say you’re excited.
Long before there were iPods and MP3 players (aside: I love how we still say “MP3 players” even though the market for Apple alternatives only existed for about 20 minutes), there were discmen and CDs. And poor students have existed since the beginning of time, or at least since the beginning of the $800 college textbook (hi, Dad!). So it was a big deal when my university’s student union would have CD sales. This being a student union at a small university in the middle of nowhere that nevertheless attracted a healthy international student body, the selections were really weird.
This one particular afternoon, after I’d slept off my hangover (sorry, Dad…), I padded down the street to the union to get a cheap late lunch before gently installing myself in the library. And when I walked through the front doors, what hit my senses first? Well, yes, stale beer on the floor, but – a huge rack of CDs. Hot damn! I got three: a Meatloaf album, a classical thing of some kind, and our pal Louis Prima.
Whenever I have a hard day that still allows some room for bucking up, unlike those days that are so frustrating you just want to hide in a dark closet, I put this on.
Now aren’t you glad I took you on that stroll down Memory Lane? …Say you’re glad.
The Daily Tune-Up 