Madonna Memories No. 2

Okay, so maybe I was just a little grouchy in my last post due to not having a snowball in hell's chance of landing Madonna tickets. I might placate myself by getting tickets to see the Foo Fighters and the Kooks at the Virgin music fest in September. But we'll see. The call of the cottage is mighty strong on Labour Day weekend.

So getting back to my trip down Madonna memory lane...

Madonna (1983) - specifically "Lucky Star" and "Holiday", and later "Borderline"

A dead-heat tie for my favourite Madonna album, along with True Blue (1986). I associate "Lucky Star" and "Holiday" with a Mini-Pops Madonna medley to which I used to choreograph dances in my basement with my best friends circa age six or so (if you read my "Madonna Memories No. 1" blog, you'll see that my preferred activities changed relatively little in high school). I also recall an "Easy Lover"/"Owner of a Lonely Heart" medley on the same cassette, as well as a pretty snappy melee of Duran Duran covers. I think I wore that cassette out, as it was pretty much our favourite until the Dirty Dancing soundtrack came along.

Perhaps due in part to its being left off the Mini-Pops' hit roster, I wasn't really familiar with "Borderline" until later on in high school, when I coerced my boyfriend to buy The Immaculate Collection on CD so that we could listen to it in his car. Since then, it's been one of my most-loved Madonna tunes. And now every time I hear it, it takes me back to being 17, a time in my life that, like early Madonna music itself, seems more and more rosy and innocent the further it gets in the past.

On that note, I shall sign off for now. But first, two more thoughts about Madonna albums of the 1980s: 1) True Blue is awesome for so many reasons, not the least of which is the dedication to Sean Penn in the liner notes... and 2) If there is one slow song I wish I'd danced to with a gorgeous boy in junior high, it's "Crazy For You" (off the Vision Quest soundtrack, but you already knew that, right?). Instead, we had Whitney Houston belting out "I-ee-I-ee-I will always love HUuuu..." And I always bolted for the refreshment table during the slow songs anyway (see: Backflip in the Long Program). But there you go.

Guttenberg Galaxy

Not all that infrequently, TV provides the answers to my pop-culture prayers. Like that I'd live to see the day that Steve Guttenberg's career is resurrected to its former glory. Despite recent appearances in such films as P.S. Your Cat Is Dead! (2002), and Single Santa Seeks Mrs. Claus (2004; co-starring alongside Crystal Bernard, no less...still awaiting her own post-Wings resurrection a la Thomas Haden Church), Guttenberg has yet to make a Hollywood comeback worthy of his superstardom in the 1980s. For a number of years, I've found the Guttenberg situation troubling, to say the least. I mean, back in the day, this guy was the shit. As the charismatic, wisecracking Sgt. Carey Mahoney, he was the Tom Cruise of the Police Academy crew. Then came two more successful franchises, Cocoon - in which he more than held his own as the cast's sole non-octogenarian - and Three Men and a Baby. But the dawn of the 1990s seemed to bring an end to the age of Guttenberg. Then, almost 20 years later, along comes the 6th season of Dancing with the Stars, giving the much-deserving Guttenberg an opportunity to foxtrot right into America's hearts once again.

Granted, a Dancing with the Stars turn may not be the most preferable route to comeback heaven. But if any 1980s movie icon deserves a second chance at stardom, it's Steve Guttenberg. Should he sign on to a Police Academy 7 reunion project (which I'd pitch as Police Academy meets Cocoon), I'd happily forgive him for skipping out on Police Academy 5 and 6 -- which, looking back, was probably a really wise decision on his part. So Hollywood, if you're listening (and I mean YOU, Ron Howard), it's time to pay tribute to the Gutte and show him a little casting sugar. You know we love him. Now's the time to bring him back. And while you're at it, here's a few more 80s superstars who also deserve to be removed from the "Where are they now?" D-list and put back in the spotlight (a la "Dr. McDreamy" Patrick Dempsey, formerly known as "that guy from Can't Buy Me Love):

Kathleen Turner - Romancing the Stone, Jewel of the Nile, let's go for the trilogy, folks. I'm
sure Michael Douglas and Danny DeVito would be up for it. And think of the DVD collector's edition re-release box set sales!

Shelley Long - The world is divided into Diane Chambers people and Rebecca Howe people. I am a devoted Diane person, which is part of why I would looove to see Shelley Long make a comeback. She's a genius at screwball comedy (exhibit A, The Money Pit, one of my all-time favourite films). She's worthy of so much more than perennial Carol Brady gigs.

Nick Nolte - Unfortunately, young people these days know this former "Sexiest Man Alive" (1992) solely from his humiliating DUI mug shots. I stand by my claim that the man's still got it goin' on. I adored his turn in Paris je t'aime, and it got me thinking...someone needs to call up Sofia Coppola and put Nick's considerable charms back on the map with a Lost in Translation-esque age-gap romance. Brilliant, I know. Let's make it happen, people.

There's so many more stars that could be added to this list...perhaps this entry will have a sequel. Suggestions, anyone?

Ode to Wheels

This post is dedicated to my favourite Degrassi character, the one and only Wheels (aka Derek Wheeler). There are so many reasons why Wheels was the most rad of the original Degrassi bunch:

First of all, Wheels is just the best nickname ever. OK, maybe it's a tie with Tootie. With an honorable mention going to Boner (remember, Mike Seaver's best friend on Growing Pains? Yes, it's true, Alan Thicke said "Boner" pretty much every other week in the first few seasons of that show).

Second of all, Wheels was the cutest Degrassi alum. He did sport rather unfortunate eyewear after about the second season (he got glasses right around the time he started growing the mullet, as I recall), but he still had it goin' on. The sultry Stephanie Kaye was all over him--and she knew her Degrassi men.

Third, Wheels had an awesome Ontario accent, embuing Degrassi with ever more distinctive Canadian charm. And fourth, Wheels really did try his darndest to be a good kid and to avoid getting sidetracked by Joey Jeremiah's zany schemes. But, as is the case with most Degrassi characters, tragedy befell Wheels and, well, his life went down the shitter. Even so, there is still a warm spot in my heart for Wheels. In the immortal words of the Zit Remedy (all together now): "Everybody wants something they'll never give up..."

Keeping St. Elmo's Fire Burnin' (In Me)

To celebrate the new year, an entry devoted to the lyrics to perhaps the most inspirational pop song ever penned. I know the unbridled 1985 sentiment is hard for your jaded, post-Cobain souls to embrace, but sometime (when no one is watching) just find this song, crank it up, and belt it out with as much earnestness as you can possibly muster (and yes, air-synthesizer antics are encouraged). It does the soul good.

If you need a little coaching, watch the video for inspiration. Even better, watch St. Elmo's Fire. Repeatedly. And try to channel the great Billy Hicks.

St. Elmo's Fire (Man in Motion) by John Parr

Growin' up, you don't see the writing on the wall
Passin' by, movin' straight ahead, you knew it all
But maybe sometime if you feel the pain
You'll find you're all alone, everything has changed
Play the game, you know you can't quit until it's won
Soldier on, only you can do what must be done
You know in some way you're a lot like me
You're just a prisoner and you're tryin' to break free

I can see a new horizon underneath the blazin' sky
I'll be where the eagle's flying higher and higher
Gonna be your man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels
Take me where my future's lyin', St. Elmo's Fire

Burning up, don't know just how far that I can go (just how far I go)
Soon be home, only just a few miles down the road
I can make it, I know I can
You broke the boy in me, but you won't break the man

I can see a new horizon underneath the blazin' sky
I'll be where the eagle's flying higher and higher
Gonna be your man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels
Take me where my future's lyin', St. Elmo's Fire

I can climb the highest mountain, cross the wildest sea
I can feel St. Elmo's Fire burnin' in me, burnin' in me

Just once in his life a man has his time
and my time is now, I'm coming alive

I can hear the music playin', I can see the banners fly
Feel like you're back again, and hope ridin' high
Gonna be your man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels
Take me where my future's lyin', St. Elmo's Fire

I can see a new horizon underneath the blazin' sky
I'll be where the eagle's flying higher and higher
Gonna be your man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels
Take me where my future's lyin', St. Elmo's Fire

I can climb the highest mountain, cross the wildest sea
I can feel St. Elmo's Fire burnin' in me
Burnin', burnin' in me, I can feel it burnin'
Oooh, burnin' inside of me...

It Takes Two

I think it's high time music industry bigwigs rediscovered a rare and much underappreciated genre: the pop male vocalist duet. Pop duets in general flourished in the 1980s, which was also the period in which the pop male vocalist duet reached its zenith, with the release of the two most undisputedly awesome pop male vocalist duets of all time:

To All the Girls I've Loved Before - Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias
The Girl is Mine - Michael ("I'm a lover, not a fighter") Jackson and Paul McCartney

Let's just take a moment, shall we, and bask in the glory of those two masterpieces.

OK, moving on--it's time for the pop male vocalist duet to make its triumphant return on the contemporary music scene. For those studly male pop stars out there keen to take the plunge, I will disclose to you the secret of pop male vocalist duet success: the more incongruous the duet pairing, the higher the Grammy-winning potential. Here's a few couplings that I think might just have the makings for pop male vocalist duet magic:

Justin Timberlake and Clay Aiken
Bono and Axl Rose
Ricky Martin and Toby Keith
Usher and Kid Rock

You get the idea. It's a one-way ticket to solid gold.

Vice Patrol

With Miami Vice receiving its big-screen revival this summer, I thought I would take a moment to spotlight an oft-overlooked echelon of the Miami Vice franchise: the fantabulous music careers of Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas.

I'll start with P.M.T. (not to be confused with "P.Y.T.", or any other Michael Jackson-penned acronym), whose music, as it happens, is a rare and expensive commodity these days. For example, a copy of his 1988 album Somebody will run you $69.99 on Amazon.com. Perhaps Thomas himself purchased all but two existing copies of the album--that's the only way to explain this phenomenon. Copies of his 1985 breakout album, Living the Book of My Life, are even harder to track down. Apparently he got hold of all of those.

(P.M.T. F.Y.I.: Thomas's pre-Miami Vice screen credits include playing the role of 'Stix' in Sparkle (1976, opposite Irene Cara, I should add) and the role of 'Purvis Mapes' in Mr. Ricco (1975, not to be confused, of course, with Uncle Rico).

Don Johnson fared somewhat better with his musical escapades, as those of you who hold fond memories of his 1986 rockfest Heartbeat will attest. Anyone doubting Johnson's crooner cred need look no further for proof of his success than his duet with Barbra Streisand, "Till I Loved You." You think Streisand duets grow on trees? Nuh-uh. (OK, so they were dating at the time. Streisand flings aren't easy to come by either).

If there's anyone who's not too cheesed out to read any further at this point, might I direct you to this snazzy Don Johnson fan discography. Note the particularly precious tank top/Vans combo he's got going on. 80ss fashion icon, folks. OK, I'm stopping now. I promise.

Deja Retro

So I'm back home in Ontario for a couple of weeks--loving the new season of Canadian Idol, Seamus O'Reagan in the mornings, and easy access to Tim Horton's maple swirl doughnuts, but not so much the dial-up internet access that goes with my old rural stomping grounds. But I don't mind being patient with my connection tonight because I am enjoying a favourite Sunday night ritual of mine, 102.1 The Edge's Sunday night retro show. Back in the day, the broadcast was from Whiskey Saigon (a club which always sounded way more fun on the radio than it actually was), but has since switched venues to a favourite undergrad haunt of mine, The Velvet Underground. I have no idea what the Velvet is like these days, as it's been many moons since I hauled my black fishnet tights/Doc Martens-clad feet onto its dance floor. But it used to be a pretty good time (even though it never quite matched the Dance Cave).

For the record (and this should surprise no one who's read this blog before), I was into retro way before retro was cool. As a teenager in the mid-1990s, I made a serious effort to become a self-educated New Wave aficianado. While many of my peers were digging Dave Matthews, Alanis Morissette or (insert Sideshow Bob shudder), Hootie and the Blowfish, I was stocking my music library with ABC, Human League, Bowie, the Cure, Duran Duran, General Public, Howard Jones, Joy Division, New Order, Pet Shop Boys, the Psychedelic Furs, Simple Minds, the Smiths, Split Enz, the Talking Heads, Talk Talk, and the Violent Femmes. At the time, the Edge's Sunday night retro show was the only place you could hear any of this stuff on the radio. Now of course any adult contemporary/pop station worth its salt has some kind of cheeseball 80s request hour on its daily programming schedule. But the Edge is still the best place to hear consistently good 80s music in a retro show. I highly recommend tuning in--you won't be disappointed. Unless 80s New Wave/ska/punk music is just totally not up your alley. But how can that be possible?

Pour Some Sugar on Me

It recently came to my attention that my most favourite 1980s hair-metal band, Def Leppard, has formed an unholy alliance with Journey for their upcoming tour this summer. No way! Way! Pretty friggin' sweet, if you ask me. I can't imagine a concert tour more jam-packed with power chords, guitar kicks, and earnest, bare-chested, bandanna-ed balladeering than this one. Sadly, they will not be making a stop in Toronto--for once, Buffalo has one-upped us on something. Talk about bringin' on the heartbreak.

Anyway...I'm not too devastated about it because I've been to see Def Leppard in concert in Toronto twice. Go ahead, mock me. I'm cool with it. I earned my serious concert cred as a teenager, delirious from sunstroke or caught up in a bone-crushing mosh pit at Molson Park, taking in then-unheard of Canadian bands like the Tea Party, Our Lady Peace, I Mother Earth and Big Sugar. I've since dropped all pretense of being a hip concertgoer. Now, it's all about listening to my inner cheeseball. Life's too short to deny my retro-pop instincts. Besides, to their credit, Def Leppard puts on a truly kick-ass show. And it's kind of nice to be among the youngest members of a concert audience for a change.

I'll finish off this post with a link to the band's offical site (where, under Vivian's Diary, you can read his latest entry titled "My Pet Monkey") as well as a sampling of some of Def Leppard's more surreal lyrics. These guys know how to wail.

"Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on/Livin' like a lover with a radar phone..."

"I'm runnin' with the wind, a shadow in the dust/And like the drivin' rain, yeah/Like the restless rust/I never sleep..."

"It's such a magical mysteria when you get that feelin'/Better start believin'..."

"I'll be your satellite of love"

"Take it, take it, take it from me/I got an itchy finger following me..."

"C'mon Steve..."

W.W.T.Y.D.? (What Would Tina Yothers Do?)

The latest addition to my Amazon wishlist: Being Your Best: Tina Yothers' Guide for Girls.
I can only speculate on the valuable knowledge contained in this volume, but one would hope that there would at least be chapters devoted to eye-rolling, bang-curling and how to cope with your crush on Michael J. Fox (I'm still working on that one). Now that I know this book exists, I'll always wonder how my life would have been different had I possessed the wisdom of Tina Yothers in convenient paperback form during my adolescent years. Back to the future, indeed.

Rap Traxx Dee-Lite

Reminiscing about 680 CFTR the other day got me wondering where and how I might procure Rap Traxx albums. Produced by the prestigious PolyTel record label, Rap Traxx tapes were a must-have on the grade five party circuit. Mike Boon's blog (which is also packed with Canadian content) has an extraordinarily helpful list of the songs located on four Rap Traxx albums. I have many a fond memory of listening to hits from the original Rap Traxx like Tone Loc's "Wild Thing" (which, after being broadcast in class during lunch time, resulted in our school principal confiscating my classmate's tape), Rob Base and D.J. E-Z Rock's "It Takes Two" (an old-school classic), and Salt-n-Pepa's "Push It" (which actually scandalized me when I was younger, but not as much as "Let's Talk About Sex"). Rap Traxx 2 has equal sentimental value, with such tunes as Young M.C.'s "Bust a Move" ("Dressed in yellow/She said hello/Come and sit next to me you fine fellow!"), Nenah Cherry's "Buffalo Stance," Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina," and Rob Base and D.J. EZ Rock's "Joy and Pain" (which was the first hip-hop song I can remember dancing to--it was in a friend's basement at an all-girl slumber party. Very street.)

Sadly, I never bought my own Rap Traxx tapes. It seemed like no matter whose house I went to, all my friends had them, so I invested in Madonna, Amy Grant, and Wilson Phillips tapes instead. Oh Rap Traxx tapes, why did I ever take you for granted? I've been keeping an eye out for them at garage sales and flea markets, but perhaps not surprisingly, they are difficult to come by. I mean, who in their right mind would sell off their Rap Traxx tapes? Oh well. I guess I'll just have to bust a move to Wilson Phillips instead. We create our own challenges in life, I suppose.

Oh Cousin Larry...

As I look out my apartment window this grey and snowy March afternoon, I find myself searching for a little inspiration to get me through the last few weeks of slush and slop that stand between now and spring. Next to Lionel Richie songs, one of the best places to find inspiration that I've found is 80s sitcom theme song lyrics. I think the most heart-lifting of them all is "Nothing's Gonna Stop Me Now" (not to be confused with the equally praiseworthy 1987 Starship chart-topper "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now"), the theme from everyone's favourite "assimilating to American ways is fun!" sitcom, Perfect Strangers. The next time you're feeling down, just think of that lovable Balki Bartokomous, emerging triumphant from the relentless spin of the revolving door that is a metaphor for the chaos of our lives. Forge ahead, brave souls! And may the story of your life also begin with a sweeping aerial shot of the Chicago skyline. You think it matters you don't live in Chicago? In the ambiguously-accented words of the eminent Balki: "Don't be ridiculous!"

(Lyrics by Jesse Frederocl and Bennett Salvay, courtesy of www.stlyrics.com)

Sometimes the world looks perfect,
Nothing to rearrange.
Sometimes you get a feeling
Like you need some kind of change.
No matter what the odds are this time,
Nothing's going to stand in my way.
This flame in my heart,
And a long lost friend
Gives every dark street a light at the end.

Standing tall, on the wings of my dream.
Rise and fall, on the wings of my dream.

The rain and thunder
The wind and haze
I'm bound for better days.
It's my life and my dream,
Nothing's going to stop me now.

Westward the Woman

My blog will be on a brief hiatus until next Monday, during which time I will be venturing "out West" to Vancouver. In the meantime, repeat this month's mantra as needed. I have one anecdote to report before I go, and that is that I found it highly amusing to discover that the same Gowan song, "Cosmetics," is featured in not one, but two episodes in the last season of Degrassi Junior High (the episodes are "Pa-Arty!", the one where Lucy throws a bash at her house while her parents are out, and the final graduation dance episode "Bye Bye Junior High"). I think it may have been the only song these kids ever partied up to (hey, it could be worse--it could have been Loverboy). To my American friends unfamiliar with the illustrious Gowan, he is a Canadian pop icon famed for such hits as the aforementioned "Cosmetics," as well as "Criminal Mind," "(You're A) Strange Animal," and "Moonlight Desires" (my personal favourite). Back in the pre-Chad Kroeger days of Canadian male vocalists, we were blessed with the more dulcet musical stylings brought to us by Gowan and his cohorts such as Gino Vannelli ("Hurts to Be in Love," "One More Sunset on L.A.," "Wild Horses") and Bruce Cockburn ("Lovers in a Dangerous Time," "Wondering Where the Lions Are," "Waiting for a Miracle"), not to mention pretty rocker boys Corey Hart and Bryan Adams. I distinctly remember having a CBC "Video Hits" cassette with Gowan's "Criminal Mind" on it--unfortunately, it disappeared after a party I hosted. Who would swipe a "Video Hits" cassette, I ask you? Then again, it was a pretty hot show. Every day after school, Dan Gallagher kept us on top of the pops. I think it's a good thing I'm headed back to the home and native land for a few days. When you start keening for Gowan and Dan Gallagher's Video Hits, you know you've been gone too long. "These moonlight desires haunt me, they haunt me, they haunt me..."

This Month's Mantra

Say you, say me.
Say it for always.
That's the way it should be.

Say you, say me.
Say it together, nat'rally.

-Lionel Richie, 1985.

Jordan Knight: I'll Be Loving You (Forever)

I have never been able to explain how particular songs get stuck in my head at various points during the day and have ceased to be alarmed at the zany randomness of this phenomenon. So it was that around 10:15 am this morning I found the New Kids on the Block's "I'll Be Loving You (Forever)" looping incessantly through my mind. I actually haven't listened to this song nearly half as many times as most other women of my generation--not because I was not a consummate "New Kids" fan (had my life gone according to the master plan I devised at age nine, Jordan Knight and I would have now been happily married for approximately eight years, ten if the plan had involved getting married in Tennessee, which it didn't), but because I feared that by listening to my New Kids tapes too often, I might somehow damage them and suffer the horrible fate of never being able to listen to them again.

Despite my cautious listening habits, I did become intensely familiar with the entire New Kids canon. While I would not be likely to defend the artistic merit of many of their songs now that my pre-teen obsession with them is long past, I stand by the quality of Knight's solid interpretation of 1970s soul ballad style. His cover of the Delfonics' "Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)" (a deep cut on the "Step By Step" album) is bang-on as far as vocal stylings go--the only problem is the late 1980s pop slickness of its instrumentals sadly pales in comparison to the rich, melodramatic strings of the original (which I intend to put on my turntable as soon as I complete this blog--damn, that's a good song).

The point is, however, that it is one of the gross injustices of the American music industry that Jordan Knight's singing career had to go down on the same ship as the rest of the members of New Kids on the Block. Thankfully, Donnie Wahlberg's acting career was somewhat salvaged, due to the near-miraculous comeback from early 1990s cheesedom pulled off by his younger brother. It hardly seems fair that a guy who went by "Markie Mark," hung out with the "Funky Bunch," churned out C + C Music Factory rip-offs and got famous on the gimmick of dropping trou with abandon now has an A-list movie career, while the very talented, and much classier, Jordan Knight is stuck playing this evening at the Blue Chip Casino in Michigan City, Indiana.

It seems to me that in certain situations, there should be a statute of limitations on boy band excesses. I would like to cite the Justin Timberlake precedent and argue that Jordan Knight has repaid his debt to popular culture and deserves to be redeemed. The guy can really sing--which is more than can be said for most pop idols, past or present. If you have any doubts, I can lend you my pristine New Kids cassette collection. Then again, I'd rather not. Just take my word for it. Oh yeah--and he's still pretty cute too.

The Mix Tape: A Dying Art

As a companion to my last entry, which addressed the proper selection of Valentine's Day viewing material, I would like to address the related issue of the proper selection of a Valentine's gift. The gift that I have chosen to feature may not be just the ideal Valentine's gift; it may in fact be the ideal gift for any and every possible situation. What is this magical object? The answer is none other than the mix tape. First off, I want to clear up any confusion regarding the mix tape's ontological status. A mix CD is not the same as a mix tape. They might seem like functional equivalents, however, as anyone who considers themselves a master of the mix tape craft will tell you, significant differences exist. Remember your Marshall McLuhan, kids: the medium is the message. Burning CDs is a fast and loose kind of process. Sure, you select the tracks and choose the order in which they'll play, but it's all over in a matter of minutes, and you don't have to listen to a single song that you've picked for your giftee. Now, dubbing a mix tape takes time, patience, and dedication, as you must not only select the songs, but cue them up and listen to them from start to finish, in real time, while the recording process takes place. It is this latter stage that keeps the dedicated coming back to the art that time is rapidly forgetting. Unlike burning a CD, or (the unthinkable) making an iPod playlist for your loved ones, making a mix tape involves taking the time to experience the musical memories that you wish to share with them. Indeed, by the time the tape's finished, you may even find yourself writing heartfelt liner notes inspired by the mix tape crafting process. Hopefully a few artisans will keep the mix tape alive in years to come. I suppose the real question is, will anyone still be able to play them? Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right?

"Nobody puts Baby in a corner."

When I was in the third grade, there was no slumber party contraband hotter than Dirty Dancing. Some girls in my class had parents who banned them from watching it. Other girls--the Dirty Dancing pushers, if you will--had parents who not only let them watch it, but willingly rented it for sleepover exhibition. Talk about badass! At any rate, by year's end, every single girl in the class had seen the movie at least half a dozen times. Now, normally I do not ascribe to the tantalizing, Althusserian notion that when a person watches a Hollywood movie, he or she soaks up its ideological poison like a sponge. But I make an exception when it comes to the reception of Dirty Dancing among pre-teen girls circa 1987-1988. That movie f***ed with our heads, man, and here's why: it propagated the idea that every girl deserves, nay, has the God-given right to find a man who can dance. More specifically, a man who can dance like Patrick Swayze.

After being indoctrinated with this fallacy at a young age, I entered my teen years outfitted with fantasies of having the time of my life practicing lifts in a lake at sunset, or mambo-ing into the spotlight with a dance partner every bit as talented (and looking every bit as hot in black polyester pants and a cummerbun) as Swayze's Johnny Castle.

Sadly, after a few junior high dances, the reality began to sink in that I'd been duped. Not only do very few men dance like Johnny Castle; the vast majority of men hate dancing, period. Except for spit-swapping slow songs, and the odd fool-proof, family- reunion- calibre standard (eg. "Y.M.C.A."...insert Sideshow Bob shudder...), most guys wouldn't get out on the dance floor unless their lives depended on it (as in, "Alright, we'll spare you--but only if you can shake it like Beyonce").

The worst part is, most guys I know think that not dancing is a good thing. For some bizarre reason, they think that not dancing and "looking cool" trumps making an effort and looking like a dork. But they're wrong! One need look no further than Patrick Dempsey's tour de force solo number in Can't Buy Me Love as evidence of the fact that it's all about the "E" for Effort when it comes to impressing girls on the dance floor.

There are, of course, guys who love to dance. However, they're in the minority as far as I can tell. And so it is that women the world over become harshly disillusioned in their quest to find the Patrick Swayze to their Jennifer Grey. And men take the blame for only doing what they honestly believe to be cool. Sigh. Why couldn't my friends' parents have just gone and rented friggin' Howard the Duck instead?

Overworked and Undersaxed

With Valentine's Day fast approaching, I thought I should take a moment to observe one of the most glaring deficiencies of today's pop music: the dearth of sultry saxophone solos. Nothing sets the scene for romance like a smooth, seductive sax solo. Not to mention the fact that "sax" is one vowel away from "sex" (as are "six," "sox," and "sux"--but that's beside the point). So why is the sax solo conspicuously absent from pop tunes these days? To craft an unsubstantiated yet highly convincing answer to that question, we must first re-visit the sax solo renaissance that was mid-1980s pop music. A glance at Billboard's Top 100 of 1984 reveals a goldmine of sax virtuosity: Sade's "Smooth Operator," Wham's "Careless Whisper," Lionel Richie's "Hello," Billy Ocean's "Caribbean Queen"....But in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the sax solo entered its baroque phase. In other words, it got out of control and started to piss people off. Michael Bolton and Kenny G. are the standout figures in this controversial period and their overindulgence is largely responsible for the sax solo's virtual extinction from pop music today. But it's been a while, and time heals all wounds, and...well...all I'm saying is to give sax a second chance. Because when it's right, it's ohhh sooo right. You know what I'm talking about. If you don't, slide on Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" this Valentine's season and engage in a night of casual sax--no strings attached.

I Heart Billy Hicks

I dedicate this inaugural entry to one of the greatest characters of 1980s cinema, the one, the only Billy Hicks, as realized by Rob Lowe in the timeless classic, St. Elmo's Fire (dir. Joel Schumacher, 1985). Billy, I love your sexed-up saxophone stylings, your impeccable flair for skinny ties and turned-up collars, your ebullient promiscuity, and your zeal for all things "out of hand." You are a speaker of many truths, and despite what you say, you have the "right hair." I discovered these many charms of yours while in the midst of my mid-1990s adolescence and am so grateful that I did. I scrawled your wisdom on my binder in English class because there are fewer more powerful words for the young in Hollywood cinema as your poetic advice to Jules, spoken directly to the camera with a look of camraderie and condolence:

"We're all going through this. It's our time on the edge."

And it still is.

So Billy, this one's for you. Don't go changing just to please me.