Just go see it. Now.

Could it be 55 years since ‘the music died’? Yes, it could.

In the Oldie comments, Jim Wheeler reminded me that Bobby Vee’s career was launched in February 1959 (The Day The Music Died) when he went on for Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper after their plane went down.

Then that reminded me of this – an astonishing and very entertaining lip-dub performed by the whole damn city of Grand Rapids. I think I posted it a few years ago, but it’s always worth another visit. Enjoy.

A good man, a good American. Plus he cleaned up the Hudson River

Like the great troubadours before him, he loved his nation and its people. He loved justice, the earth that nourishes us and he loved music.

And this is how a pro wraps up a career – with Bruce at his side!

And this is from the 1950’s (Seeger in the foreground):

RIP old man.

Happy New Year from Moe

Damn but these things keep coming. Oh well. Here’s to ya’. Best wishes and all.

Here’s something lovely.

Is this better?

Currently viral on Facebook – and wonderful. A capella at its best.

Ah . . . another one

Lou Reed? Dammit.

I really hope they lip-sync Freddie

Because no one else can do him justice. There’s to be a movie.

Oh joy! Today is an excuse to post these

James Cagney was the ultimate song and dance man. I’m pretty sure Michael Jackson watched these moves over and over . . .

and how about this for pure grace . . .

and you can’t beat this for pure wonderful schmaltz . . .

 

 

Since I was at Krugman’s blog

Ahem, look what the Professor has introduced:

So long to a lovely guy. Rest in peace Richie.

You know it’s true

I do so love my ancestral people

It’s the 30th anniversay of what? What??!!!??

Something I never thought I’d say

Billy Joel rocks. He does.

If you didn’t see him on the NBC Hurricane fundraiser, go find it.

I can always use some exhuberance in the a.m.

I guess it’s Korea week . . . Go to 2:00 in for the real show.

I know. So last month, but still . . .

Well, there may be someone left who hasn’t seen this (266,000,000 hits on youtube right now) . . . I love the damn thing on every level, but ask – if you can bear it – that you take another look. Aside from the pure entertainment value, isn’t the color wonderful? The clothes, the backdrops, everything – wonderfully brilliant, almost neon colors. This is a palate I’m rather fond of.

Be happy

This makes me smile.

Japanese schoolgirls and Louis Prima. Separated at birth.

When I was in my early 20’s, and first living in New York, my then roommate and I lived in a ‘residence hotel’ called the Belleclaire on the upper West Side off Manhattan. A shabby place but convenient and affordable with a nightclub on the first floor (the name has disappeared into my own way-back machine).

This I remember though: the club’s headliner was Tito Puente and his band. He mostly did Latin and salsa stuff, with the occasional swing sidebar. One of his regular numbers was Louis Prima’s classic Sing, Sing, Sing.

I think he played that one every night around 10pm; when my windows were open, I could hear them, and I honestly never tired of it.

But these Japanese high schoolers have him beat. They’re a delight. (Thanks to friend Shep for this one – start at 6:00 into the video for the beat).

OMG: 50 years and still rockin’

Not the oldie yet

So unbloggy this week. This one always re-animates me. (Plus I feel simply compelled to post it. Again.)

Now this would be a fine anthem, that ‘God’ part and all

I can’t wait for the Billy Jean version

Rita Hayworth dances to Stayin’ Alive.

Rap re-envigorated poetry. So, good that.

My generation mostly doesn’t enjoy Rap or hip-hop and I understand that entirely. Each generation clings to the familiar; each generation finds the following ones lacking; each generation declares the end of history with their own passing.

And so, Rap music and hip-hop have been invisible to those of us who grew up on a different sort of music. Which is too bad, because there’s value there.

The impact has been that the lyrics brought poetry back from obscurity, back into the mainstream, and introduced it to those who might have lived a life without ever reading a line of verse. So much of this is poetry, a vigorous and relevant poetry. Some of it is vulgar or obscene (James Joyce anyone? Henry Miller?), some is vapid (How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?) and will soon be forgotten, but much of it touched on the human condition in a way that resonates with new generations.

One of the biggest of the hip-hop cross-over acts in the 80’s and beyond was certainly The Beastie Boys, who gained respect even amongst black fans. They did plenty of silly party stuff and were never high art. But they expanded a genre, a genre that I think was important. So RIP and fare thee well to founder Adam Yauch. This old lady thinks you done good.

Here’s a video by a rapper Mr. Lif (new to me,  but I’ve been cruisin’ around here and found this. I like it, especially the lyrics).

When Bruce speaks, a lotta people listen

Haven’t been paying much attention in recent years to popular music. I do notice when something happens (RIP Clarence et al) but don’t generally pay a lot of attention when soemthing new is published.

Here’s what The Guardian has to say about Bruce Springstein’s new album, Wrecking Ball.

Indeed, [the album] is as angry a cry from the belly of a wounded America as has been heard since the dustbowl and Woody Guthrie, a thundering blow of New Jersey pig iron down on the heads of Wall Street and all who have sold his country down the swanny. Springsteen has gone to the great American canon for ammunition, borrowing from folk, civil war anthems, Irish rebel songs and gospel. The result is a howl of pain and disbelief as visceral as anything he has ever produced, that segues into a search for redemption: “Hold tight to your anger/ And don’t fall to your fears … Bring on your wrecking ball.”

Springsteen plunges into darker, richer musical landscapes in a sequence of breath-taking protest songs – Easy Money, Shackled and Drawn, Jack of All Trades, the scarily bellicose Death to My Hometown and This Depression with Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine – before the album turns on Wrecking Ball in search of some spiritual path out of the mess the US is in.

I may have to borrow a dime for this one. Here’s a cut.

Wow. Jimmy Fallon is quite entertaining

He does a damn good Bowie. Here is “Tim Tebow to Jesus Christ”

 

It’s always bittersweet . . .

Happy New Year and Elvis bless us, everyone.

Oh by golly, have a Holly Jolly Christmas this year

So tender: this always touches me

For the third straight Christmas –  Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas:

 

Crow pie? Not likely.

Donald is having a big debate and nobody is coming.  Well, noboby who isn’t named Newt Gingrich anyway. (Even Bachmann backed out.)

Cause, I think, for celebration.

Friday night oldie

Slow dancing . . . with a few twirls.