WXRT Hires New Jock–A Greeting To Her From the Program Director.

Getting More from Les Blog Readers: You might have read that WXRT has hired a new DJ, AnnaLisa Parziale, a radio veteran with stints in San Francisco and Boston. Somehow, an email from ‘XRT program director Laura Duncan to Annalisa wound up in my inbox. I reproduce it below with only slight editing for brevity.

******

Dear Annalisa,

Welcome to Chicago and WXRT. As your program director, I am sure that I will be your new best friend in the whole world, no matter what Lin Brehmer tells you.

I know that throughout your career you have heard great things about WXRT and that you are looking forward to all the freedom and variety that you will have while programming your show. There are just a few little rules, or as I like to call them, suggestions, that will help you fit into our family.

You are required to play one song by The Cure on each shift. We have six tracks to choose from. I prefer if you don’t play Friday I’m In Love on Fridays. It is just sooo cliche.
The Clash must always be referred to as The Only Band That Matters, even though we only have two of their songs on our allowed playlist.
Terri plays the Beatles. Period.
We feature a heavy rotation of one Grateful Dead song a month. Last month’s selection was Touch of Grey. This month I haven’t yet decided between Uncle John’s Band or Touch of Grey. I will let you know when I make up my mind. In the meantime, in case you have any inclination to play Truckin’, don’t.
Sprinkle in a few anecdotes of the first time you heard a particular band in concert. It doesn’t have to make sense, but it shows the listeners you are just like them.
Playing Chicago music means playing Smashing Pumpkins, or occasionally Wilco. And a couple of blues guys to prove how hip we are. Their names escape me.
For the first 45 years of this station, Aerosmith was just the misspelling of a Sinclair Lewis novel. But ever since The Loop, Chicago’s harder rock station, shut down, we at XRT have been courting their Incel former listeners. Therefore we have been rocking Dream On every other Tuesday. Ditto, I’m looking for a slot to crank out some Van Halen. You good with Panama?
We don’t do news, Huey Lewis or otherwise. Mary Dixon has left the building.
In view of your recent history in Massachusetts, and because our listeners fantasize over Phoebe Cates, you may play The Cars Moving in Stereo as often as you desire. On the other hand, playing the band Boston is strictly verboten. So is playing Chicago.
Måneskin. Always more Måneskin. I’m begging.

Good luck and welcome.

REM forever,

Laura

Read our take on the Supreme Court.

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Hotel California. A Classic or a Nightmare–What Do You Think?

Hey boomers–any idea of how many “classic rock” radio stations are in the USA? Wikipedia lists 496 stations using some variation of that moniker. Assuming all are 24-hour a day broadcasters, that is 496 X 24 X 60 = 714,240 minutes of air time per day that these stations have to fill. Let’s guess that 214,20 minutes of that is filled with commercials, news, and DJ jabber. That leaves about half a million minutes a day for music.

And how do most classic rock radio stations fill that time? They play the Eagles “Hotel California.” And then they play it again.

You can travel anywhere in the country (we just spend a lovely week in Phoenix) and the results will be the same. The ethereal images, the dueling guitars, the Steely Dan reference, the never-ending fade, all those will follow you coast to coast. And you won’t escape it at 30,000 feet as ‘Hotel California” is certainly on your airline’s in-flight song menu as well.

It is quite possible that if you stacked up a new 45 rpm disc for each radio play in the last 45 years, you would end up with a pile 4.3 light-years tall, high enough to reach the star Alpha Centauri. And when you got there, some intergalactic radio station would be probably be playing the intro to “Hotel California.”

This isn’t to say some radio stations don’t occasionally get creative. If you listen long enough you may hear the rare playing of some other song from the Hotel California album. “New Kid in Town” frequently makes the cut. There is also a dictum that one out of every ten plays of “Hotel California” must be the live acoustic version from the “Hell Freezes Over” CD.

So whether you are in the fast lane, takin’ it easy, or taking it to the limit, you can be sure that when you check in to Hotel California, you can never leave.

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Man-People Take This Music Sh*t Seriously!

So I am a member of a few groups on Facebook. Groups about my old neighborhood, my new neighborhood, my schools, my occupation. And a handful about my love of music.

In one of the groups, people tend to ask questions like “name your favorite bass guitarist,” or “name a song with the letter Q in the title.” On occasion, I will volunteer an answer, and on rarer occasions, I will ask a question. During this past COVID-quiet weekend I asked a question. I didn’t know I was inciting a riot…

My question was pretty straightforward–“Name a song that contains the name of a non-USA city.” As an example, I listed my favorite Warren Zevon number, Lawyers, Guns and Money which includes the lyric “I was gambling in Havana.”

Pretty easy stuff, I thought. Not a trick question, not controversial. To my chagrin, I learned there is nothing in the cyber world that is not controversial. And nothing that can’t make people angry.

Sure, lots of people gave uncomplicated answers. No surprise how many people named Werewolves of London, another Warren Zevon track. Our great distaff vocalists were represented by songs such as Joni Mitchell’s Free Man in Paris (no one mentioned the Neil Diamond version!) And lots of other songs with non-USA cities in either song titles or lyrics were fun to reminisce about. The Comments reached into the many hundreds.

But then the arguments began. Everyone loves The Girl from Ipanema, but is Ipanema a beach, an area, or a city unto itself? Loads of people weighed in on that one–supporting their claims with Google maps and guidebook quotes. At least that debate was peaceful.

The fury rose when many people listed songs naming non-USA countries, but not cities. Songs like Never Been to Spain and Haitian Divorce. I will admit that for the first few minutes, I replied to posters pointing out the error, but after a while, I decided what the heck–let ’em list what they want to list and have fun. It’s not like I am giving away any prizes!

Yet one or two individuals assigned themselves to be the scourages of the list, pointing out every misattributed song, every spelling error, and every country-not-a-city-error.

The vitriol rose to a boil when discussing Back in the USSR, the Beatles rocker from The White Album. When Mr. Blue Pencil incorrectly* told a poster the song didn’t belong on the list, all hell broke loose. Name-calling, cussing, and sacrilegious comments followed in short order. WTF?????

I have learned my lesson. In an effort to avoid furor in the future, I think I will avoid hot-button topics like music in future postings and stick to less controversial topics.

Does anyone want to talk about changing the Senate filibuster rules?

*Moscow is mentioned in the lyrics.

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Springsteen Sells It.

Bruce Springsteen: Image courtesy of Chicago Tribune

Word is out on the street that Bruce Springsteen, the tough kid from New Jersey, America’s storyteller, Mr. Broadway, and of course, The Boss, has sold the rights to his music to Sony. The reported sale price, about $500,000,000 dollars. That is, half a billion bucks, or 1/10th of 1 percent of a Musk.

Selling music rights has become the current rage. Dylan, Paul Simon, Neil Young; all have taken the money and run, though none will be able to run as far as Bruce and his big bundle.

I am a big Springsteen fan, though for many years the only music of his that was bought and paid for was a tape cassette of the Born in the USA. All the songs from the Born to Run album are on my iPhone, but I think that has more to do with something called Napster than any laying out of cash.

I enjoyed the one time we saw Bruce and the E Street boys live at the United Center, though Barb was regretting leaving her earplugs at home as the band’s booming sound bounced off the concrete. My two Bruce disappointments: his autobiography and the TV version of his Broadway show. I gave up on both before reaching the halfway point.

How much was Bruce worth before the deal with Sony? “Reliable sources” online give his previous net worth also at half a billion, so I guess with the additional half-billion he has hit billionaire status. I know it is a lot of money, but I can’t help feeling my daughter would be worth that much if someone had given her 3 shares of Tesla stock instead of 3 shares of Walgreens as a Bat Mitzvah gift.

Of course, Mr. Springsteen is not universally loved. In a question I once posed to a Facebook group, asking who was the better storyteller, Springsteen or John Mellencamp, most respondents just wanted the opportunity to dump on Bruce. I think it had more to do with politics than with music. And now those haters probably just want to get a loan from him.

So Bruce, more power to you. I hope you spread a little of that cash with the bandmates who supported you, guys like Steven and Max. And don’t forget Clarence’s and Danny’s families. And there better be a big new bauble for Patti–and maybe some charitable donations, too.

Oh, and Sony execs, if you are reading this, the rights to my blogs are available. It won’t even cost you $500 mill. I’ll take $500 plain.

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I Will Think About Michael Nesmith Whenever I Remember My Puffy Sleeves Green “Monkees” Shirt.

Michael Nesmith. (Photo Courtesy Chicago Tribune)

Michael Nesmith has died. Three-quarters of the Monkees have now passed away, leaving Mickey Dolenz as the sole survivor of the TV super-group. And breaking one more of the strands that held our generation together.

Did you watch The Monkees religiously, Monday nights on Channel 5? I’m sure in the memory of many of us it lasted for years and years, but it really only survived for two seasons.

Was it a good TV show? Not at all. Even my pre-teen critic’s eye recognized that. It was just a string of music videos strung together with a slight, silly, plot. We didn’t know Nesmith would eventually be one of the forces behind the whole music video revolution.

But yes, the show was fun–and bringing the boys into our living rooms every week made them our friends. We knew their eccentricities–Mike’s wool hat, Peter’s kookiness, Davy’s accent, and Mickey’s wanting to be the boss. By the way, if they ever make a biopic about the boys, can anyone but Adrian Grenier play the role of Mickey?

The Monkees popularized the puffy-sleeved shirt, years before Seinfeld satirized it. Maybe the boys wanted to look like pirates. I bought a green number, probably at Leonard’s Juvenile Shop on Morse Avenue. I wore it to the school dances, in heavy rotation with my two Nehru shirts. I thought I was very fashionable back in the day.

Davy, Peter, and now Michael have left us. Mickey is 76. Monkee business is winding down. But I’m a believer that a little bit of me and a little bit of you will remember them even when the last train to Clarksville has gone.

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Hey, NPR. You Are Making Me Feel Old!

In July of 1984, I mentioned to a friend that for the first time that I could recall, the number one song on the Billboard charts was something I had never heard. The song was “When Doves Cry” from Prince’s Purple Rain soundtrack album. It had totally escaped my ears and for the first time in my life, I was all of 28.

So imagine my feelings today at age 65 upon reading the NPR list of best songs of 2021, and not recognizing a single song, from #100 down to #1. A total shut-out. And this wasn’t a list from some hip new-age media outlet. This wasn’t the 100 most streamed songs on Tik-Tok. No, this was a list from National Friggin’ Public Radio, the network programmed for old farts and fans of over-enunciated world news. NPR is 100% cooler than I am.

I did recognize the name of one artist on the list. Robert Plant showed up for a duet with Allison Krauss. For those of you even more out of touch than I am, Mr. Plant was once the lead singer for a band called Led Zeppelin. No-those boys didn’t make this year’s NPR 100.

It’s not that I have stopped listening to music. I still do. And “my” station, WXRT plays some new music along with the oldies. But I guess not one of the adult alternative songs they play (that’s the description of the format from Audacy, Inc. the station’s owner) was one of the year’s 100 winners. What a losing record! That’s what they get for letting Mary Dixon run off to WBEZ. Hey–isn’t WBEZ the local NPR affiliate? Mary must be even hipper than I thought!

So what was NPR’s Number One Song of the Year? Lil Nas X’s “MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name)” took the number one slot. If I had a nickel for every time I have heard it, well, I wouldn’t have a nickel.

Yes, I am old, crotchety, and out-of-date. On TV I’m watching the new documentary about John, Paul, George, and Ringo. The last books on music I have read were by Keith, Bruce, and Patti. I just am not on a first-name basis with Cardi and Nas and Megan Thee.

So I’ll just sit back and listen to my radio. “Once In a Lifetime” by The Talking Heads is playing. I remember when they were avant-garde.

And so was I.

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There Ought to be Clowns. Goodbye Mr. Sondheim.

Stephen Sondheim–Photo courtesy of Chicago Tribune

….well maybe next year.

Stephen Sondheim, A Little Night Music

In memory of Stephen Sondheim the follow is a post from my original WordPress blog “Downsize, Maybe”, my series detailing building our new home. This was originally published in 2015.

With Barb and a friend in New York City this weekend, I had an opportunity to do some multi-tasking. So while watching the 4-0 NU Wildcats squeak out a victory over a very determined Ball Stat team I was was also noodling around with my new (thank you UroPartners) tablet. I downloaded the HBO Go Ap and looked for something to stream.

I scrolled through the HBO Documentary section and came across a 2013 film called “Six by Sondheim.” Those of you who know me well are aware that I am a Broadway Baby, with my list of favorite musicals, organized alphabetically and by decade. We have given spirited renditions of a few Broadway tunes on our baseball buddy trips. But I don’t think you will find much Sondheim on my Must See/Must Sing list. Sondheim doesn’t write many “typical” musicals. He tackles topics such as men who kill Presidents (Assassins, a big flop) and barbers who kill men (Sweeney Todd, a big hit.)

I like the way this doc was put together. It contained almost no new material. Instead, the film makers spliced together bits and pieces of 12 or 15 previous Sondheim television interviews spanning 50 years of his career, taking him from an up and comer to an honored veteran. This was interspersed with new performances of a six of his compositions. The best of these pieces started with a dozen YouTube clips of everyone from Collins (Judy) to Sinatra (Frank) to Streisand (Barbra) singing Send in the Clowns. This segued into an amazing rendition of the song by Audra McDonald. All I can say is that if you don’t know Audra McDonald, you should.

So does any of this have anything to do with our home building project? I guess what learned while watching was the degree of collaboration, the multitude of moving parts, that need to come together for a successful Broadway show. It will be the same for our new house. The architect can write the music, the builder can pen the words, the decorator can be the set designer, and Barb and I can play the leading roles. I can already see Neil Patrick Harris handing us our Tonys….

In closing, we are quickly approaching our 30th post. Don’t you all think it is time for Barb to write one? If you believe Barb should write a post, clap your hands. No wait, I can’t hear you. If you believe Barb should write a post, answer the poll below, or if you are on a site that doesn’t show the poll, send me an email at lesraff@comcast.net. I bet that if we get 50 or more positive responses, I will be able to convince Barb you really want to hear from her.

Thanks!

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Do Not Roam, Senate Joe

To the tune of “Take Me Home, Country Roads”

With apologies to John Denver.

He’s the man from West Virginia,
He’s Joe Manchin, his name makes me shiver
On the Blue Team, that’s the way he sees
But today I’m feeling, with Dems he disagrees

Senate Joe, do not roam
Don’t misplace, or go wrong
Stick with Biden, and with Shumer
Do not roam, Senate Joe.

In the Senate, a three-termer
Moderation, never been a Berner 
Filibuster, the apple of his eye
He don’t want to change it, don’t want to be that guy.

Senate Joe, do not roam
Don’t misplace, or go wrong
Stick with Biden, and with Shumer
Do not roam, Senate Joe.

Now with Krysten, causing trouble
Own the libs, well, that could be your motto.
Fighting clean air, and the taxes too.
But without your votes, the Dems will have two few.

Senate Joe, do not roam
Don’t misplace, or go wrong
Stick with Biden, and with Shumer
Do not roam, Senate Joe.

You hear the news from the lobbyists, they call you
Remind you of the coal that lies ‘neath West Virginia clay
Deciding how to vote, you gotta know that
Fossil fuels, should go away, just go away.

Senate Joe, do not roam
Don’t misplace, or go wrong
Stick with Biden, and with Shumer
Do not roam, Senate Joe.

Do not roam, Senate Joe.
Do not roam, Senate Joe.

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Stop Playing this Song. I’m Beggin!

I’m at my desk listening to the sports radio “experts” discuss the White Sox chances in the playoffs, and the future of Andy Dalton now that Justin Fields is the Bears’starter. I am peering through my microscope, drawing lines and dots on the prostate slides. All is as it should be.

And then I hear it. Again. For the third (or is the fourth?) time in the last 90 minutes, I am forced to sit through that song as it plays on the radio in the lab, the one right outside my office. And I shudder.

I am suffering through a song called Beggin’. A little research (isn’t that what we call looking things up in Google and/or Wikipedia?) tells me the song is a remake of a Four Seasons song from 1967. This cover version is by an Italian band called Maneskin and isn’t even new. It was recorded four years ago but has only hit the charts in English-speaking countries this year.

How can I describe it to those fortunate enough not to have not yet been exposed? Remember Dave Seville and the Chipmunks? Think of one of their songs, recorded at 45 rpm, sped up 78 rpm. Then imagine that English is not the Chipmunks’ native language and that they seem to have no idea what the lyrics mean. And then pretend you are hearing the song over and over and over.

It’s not just that the song is being played by the Eric Ferguson-less-Mix every quarter-hour. I can’t escape it at my Fitness Center where it’s on the overhead music stream. And the final indignity, it has hit the WXRT heavy rotation list. C’mon Lin Brehmer, this is Chicago’s Finest Rock? Just play Sympathy for the Devil one more time.

It has happened to me once before, a song drifting from the lab into my office over and over. It was back in 2006, the first summer we were in operation. That is the summer Justin Timberlake was bringing SexyBack…and back…and back.

At least ‘XRT never jumped on the JT bandwagon.

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Oh well, I assume Beggin’ will wear out its welcome in the next month or so. Just in time for the people in the lab to switch the radio to WLIT and non-stop Christmas music. By then I will be ready for a little Santa Got Run Over by a Reindeer.

FACT: I DO Like the Beatles!

The most famous album cover of all time?

OK, boomers. I admit it. I blew it. I didn’t exactly diss the Beatles, I just said I couldn’t name a favorite song. Boy, did that piss some of you off!

I heard it from old friends, new friends, unaffiliated blog readers, and even my wife Barb, whom I thought only musically cared about Neil Diamond. “What do you mean you don’t like the Beatles????”

I do like the Beatles.

Fact: I have always preferred the Beatles to the Rolling Stones. Although I do love the Stones jam at the end of Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.

Fact: A Hard Day’s Night is right next to Goldfinger as my favorite movie of 1964.

Fact: I am not a CD collector but I do own one Beatles CD. In fact, the name of the CD is One. That’s only three less than the four U2 CDs I treasure.

Fact: Instead of watching Paul Konerko hit a grand slam in Game 2 of the White Sox sweep of the Astros in the 2005 World Series, I was sitting at a Paul McCartney concert in Milwaukee.

Fact: I saw Paul McCartney a second time, on a rainy evening at Wrigley Field. Believe me, it takes something special to get this Sox fan into the North Side’s Friendly Confines.

So I apologize to all of you Beatles ~~snowflakes~~ fans whom I might have offended. I promise to listen to Hey Jude, Yesterday, Eleanor Rigby, I Saw Her Standing There, and all the other songs you guys and gals recommended as the greatest Beatle song of all time. I am sure I will love each and every one of them.

As someone (I can’t remember who) once said, “in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

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