EPISODE #445: 2020 SUMMER OLYMPICS (JAPAN)
delayed until 2021 due to the coronavirus pandemic
Leo Arnaud — “Bugler’s Dream” [ALTERNATE THEME]
Tom Waits — “Big in Japan”
Green — “Big in Japan”
All About Chad — “Japanese Couple in Reverse”
Ween — “Japanese Cowboy”
Maita — “Japanese Waitress”
Elvis Costello & the Attractions — “Tokyo Storm Warning”
Graham Parker — “Discovering Japan”
The Spinto Band — “Japan Is an Island”
Spoon — “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case”
Pere Ubu — “30 Seconds Over Tokyo”
Royal Arctic Institute — “Japanese Viperina”
Future Bible Heroes — “How To Get Laid in Japanese”
Jack Silbert proudly records the Aquarium podcast in Hoboken, New Jersey.
Aquarium Playlist, 7/27/21
Aquarium Playlist, 7/20/21
EPISODE #444: FOURS
The Who — “Happy Jack” [THEME]
Daryl Hall — “Something in 4/4 Time”
Lloyd Cole — “Four Flights Up”
Howlin’ Wolf — “Forty-Four”
Drunken Prayer — “Four-Leaf Clover”
Glenn Morrow’s Cry for Help — “44”
Volcano Suns — “Four Letters”
Butterglory — “Forty-Four”
Dirty Fences — “Four-Leaf Clover”
The Zombies — “Care of Cell 44”
Fats Domino — “Let the Four Winds Blow”
Bright Eyes — “Four Winds”
The Clash — “Four Horsemen”
Low — “Four Score”
King Missile — “Fourthly”
Jack Silbert proudly records the Aquarium podcast in Hoboken, New Jersey.
Aquarium Playlist, 7/13/21
EPISODE #443: HARD
The Who — “Happy Jack” [live; ALTERNATE THEME]
Keith Richards — “Take It So Hard”
Cait Brennan — “A Hard Man To Love”
Jimmy Cliff — “The Harder They Come”
Life in a Blender — “Kiss Me Harder”
Big Eyes — “Try Hard Kiss Ass”
Syd Straw — “Think Too Hard”
Boyracer — “He Gets Me So Hard”
The Mekons — “Hard To Be Human”
The Replacements — “Can’t Hardly Wait”
#Poundsign# — “It’s So Hard”
Mike Daly & the Planets — “The Hardest Drug”
Emmylou Harris — “Hard Bargain”
Bruce Springsteen — “This Hard Land”
Jack Silbert proudly records the Aquarium podcast in Hoboken, New Jersey.
Movie Review: Summer of Soul (…or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised)
4 stars out of 5
Well, it turns out a lot more people watch a documentary if it’s also airing on Hulu. But I love movie theaters and a trip to one can seem like a mini summer vacation (in this case, also time travel). So I went to see Questlove’s Summer of Soul on the big screen.
For music lovers, it’s a must-see. Summer in the city, 1969, at the Harlem Cultural Festival. Stevie Wonder rocking it on the drums. B.B. King’s blistering blues. Sly and the Family Stone taking us higher. Old Mahalia Jackson and young Mavis Staples taking us even higher still. Outstanding! Nearly every genre represented: soul, funk, gospel, rock, pop, jazz, psychedelia, Latino.
About 300,000 total people in attendance over successive weeks, and yet, basically forgotten. No movie, no soundtrack. So Questlove has done us all a great service by revisiting this splendid event. And that he’s presented it in such a compelling manner deserves high praise.
The festival is placed in historical context. It’s a year after the 1968 riots and Harlem needs healing. It’s the summer of the moon landing and a common and very reasonable reaction of the black community — why waste money on space travel when there are hungry people at home? — definitely wasn’t taught in my textbooks. And the more things change, the more they don’t. They didn’t have the term Black Lives Matter yet but the inequality and the outrage were certainly there. Nina Simone’s stellar performance of “To Be Young, Gifted, and Black” should’ve been played in every school, every day for the past 52 years, and the next 52 years too.
Current interviews, including attendees, provide further context. Particularly affecting for me were Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis of the Fifth Dimension (who perform the written-in-Hoboken “Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” at the festival). It’s interesting and sad that the group’s top-40-friendly sounds were considered “not black enough.” As the movie clearly shows, music is a big, big tent.
Chris Rock and Lin-Manuel Miranda seem tacked on for name value more than anything. Other minor gripes: It’s mentioned, though glossed over — especially in the publicity — that 1969 was the third year of the festival. Wouldn’t have minded a little more info on those first two years. Wikipedia tells me that festival footage was aired on Channel 5 New York that summer; if that’s true it deserved a mention. And personally, I would’ve liked a comparison with the Los Angeles Wattstax concert just three years later (that also included the Staple Singers and Jesse Jackson) which did get the feature film and soundtrack treatment.
Overall though, a tremendous effort, and tremendously entertaining. For a regular showgoer like myself, it was great to see the (frequently mentioned) “sea of black faces” in the crowd, with some “token” white kids, a total reverse of so many current rock shows. The organizers, including producer/emcee Tony Lawrence, did a fabulous job running a smooth festival, and Questlove has done an equally great job preserving it.
Thank You, Delfino’s
On social media, my Amazon author page, dating sites, etc., I always mention my interest in sandwiches. I like ’em. And when you find a good sandwich, by god you stick with it. For the past 21 years, that’s meant a chicken parm from Delfino’s in Hoboken. Friday, July 2, was their last day in business and I will miss that sandwich a whole lot.
Now, wait a minute, Delfino’s opened in 1987, I moved to Hoboken in 1994… 21 years… the math doesn’t work. That’s because I lived downtown with my buddy Joe for the first six years, and Hoboken’s west side was mysterious, mostly unexplored territory for us. We slowly found local favorites: Benny Tudino’s, Piccolo’s, Spa Diner, Leo’s Grandevzous. Joe knew about a special spot called Fiore’s. But I think the only time I entered Delfino’s in those early days was after a sweltering visit to the St. Ann’s Festival, in search of a nice cold soda.
It all changed in 2000 when Joe moved to 5th and Madison and I moved to 5th and Adams. Smack dab in the middle, at 5th and Jefferson, was Delfino’s.
But, why chicken parm? I have a strangely clear memory of my parm origins. This would’ve been in the ’80s, I was a young teen, and my mom’s Aunt Snookie was hosting a big party in a New York restaurant. I remember two things from this day: One, that my visiting cousin Nikki from Arizona was mischievous and totally fun, and two, that I ordered veal parmigiana. Why did I do it? A particularly compelling description on the menu? Did someone recommend the dish? All I know is that I have always been a very picky eater, but here was a new dish that I absolutely loved, and most importantly, it seemed to be on the menu of every “nicer” restaurant I went to after that day. No more panicking about what to order! I’ll have the veal parmigiana, thank you. Or its low-rent brother, chicken parm. Which became more and more of my choice as I started paying my own way in this crazy world of ours.
Back at 5th and Jefferson, Joe and I continued to visit our regular haunts. But in late 2001, a show we loved — 24 — debuted. On Tuesday nights I’d head to Joe’s place to watch it. On my way, I’d stop at Delfino’s and pick up two chicken parm sandwiches. This was such a routine that on my first many visits to Delfino’s after Joe moved to Italy in 2003, Frank behind the counter asked if I wanted two chicken parms.
In the summers, Delfino’s would take an extended vacation, and I’d use the opportunity to sample other chicken parms around town. Nobody has ever come remotely close. It’s just a magical perfect balance of tender breaded chicken, robust (not sweet) sauce, and melty cheese on crispy, chewy Hoboken bread.
Ever since, generally once a week, I’ve gone to Delfino’s, usually for takeout, usually chicken parm. Up through 2011 I worked at Scholastic in the city and routinely worked late. I’d rush back to Hoboken and take a cab from the PATH station to Delfino’s, often getting in the last order of the night.
When I started freelancing from home, Frank was confused for a long while why I was coming in earlier.
Frank and his brother Del (Delfino) ran the place. Patty at Piccolo’s told me that Del learned to cook as a kid at Marty Casella’s old restaurant in Hoboken, under the tutelage of head chef Ciro. Patty says both brothers can cook very well but when he puts his mind to it, Del can really cook. A higher compliment you’re unlikely to come by.
You go into a place over a couple of decades, you meet people, you recognize people. The guy in doctors’ scrubs. Gruff-voiced street guy John, sometimes charitably hired to sweep up, put the chairs up. (I told you, I was often there at the end of the night.) Frank’s son Giorgio. Del’s little son with a little easy chair in the corner. Anthony driving deliveries. A proud history of sassy, funny waitresses. Before Thanksgiving there was always a drawing for a free turkey; I never, ever won. Leading up to Christmas there’d be a small table next to the tree with holiday cookies and small plastic cups for a wee beverage. I favored Baileys Irish Cream.
I learned that a scene had been shot in Delfino’s for a movie, Mail Order Bride starring Danny Aiello and Big Pussy. There was a limited screening at the Quad Cinema in Manhattan. I eagerly attended and reported back. Del hadn’t gone — they were Jersey guys, not New Yorkers.
Cousins with Biancamano who makes a freaking amazing sandwich on upper Washington; oh that mutz!! (I’d go more often but, you know, it’s uptown.) And Peter Biancamano, showing up on the local ballot. My buddy Barry used to live upstairs; Del was his landlord. It’s a small town, Hoboken. A mile square they say.
Yvonne the tailor from Italmoda, half a block up on Jefferson, she likes Delfino’s. This is another very high compliment, in case you didn’t know.
In 2014, Giorgio struck out on his own and opened the Blue 42 restaurant and bar in Elmwood Park, in the shadow of the big MARCAL sign. Nice joint. I don’t know if they told Del it’s a Packers bar. Delfino’s is all about the New York Football Giants. Lawrence Taylor proudly on display among the many photos on the walls (Joey Pants, the aforementioned Mr. Aiello, etc. etc.)
Summer of 2016, I think? Second half of the year was kind of a blur for me. But Delfino’s closed for a gut renovation of the building. I think they’d sold it but rented the restaurant space? (Hmm maybe signed a 5-year lease?) But by the time I was back at home like Rapunzel in spring 2017, they were back in business. My dad, man I miss him, he loved calling up Delfino’s from Maryland and ordering me stuffed rigatoni Massimo (that’s their vodka sauce) for delivery. Or my wonderful friend Karen would come after work and bring me a Delfino’s chicken parm and a bottle of Coke. We’d eat and watch It’s Garry Shandling’s Show. Since I’ve been back on my feet (so to speak), she and I would go in person; I was often the lucky recipient of her leftover baked ziti.
It wasn’t all good news. While I was hospitalized, Del was fighting his own battle, with cancer. So sad to think of this sturdy, no-nonsense, smiling guy humbled by that damn disease. I maybe knew a thing or two about getting knocked down and the very long road back.
Covid times. I learned how to order my sandwich from an app. Limited indoor dining finally returns. December 23, I head over for a little holiday cheer, maybe some Baileys. Talk about your Christmas miracles — there in the flesh was Del himself. On his feet, not in a wheelchair! Looking pretty good. First time I’d seen him in 4.5 years. That immunotherapy doing its stuff, thank goodness.
Last month I ran into Anthony on the street and he broke the news: Delfino’s was closing. Frank was retiring after 34 years. It is a real bummer for me personally, no longer having such a beloved place so close. Plus the trend of new places being, uggh, artisanal. Cutesy. The other day at Delfino’s I was chatting with local character TJ and suggested that he should take over the place; he predicted low lights and $12 coffees. TJ is probably right. It stings to lose an old-school classic. In the past week-plus, I tried to revisit my Delfino’s “greatest hits.” Karen and I went; I had stuffed rigatoni Massimo with chicken, she had baked ziti, and I received her leftovers. Then they were closed Sunday and Monday; some things never change. Last Tuesday I had a meatball parm. Wednesday I recreated my original regular order from when I had started to occasionally go by myself and sit at a table: ziti with sausage. Time ran out as it always does, so I didn’t get to once more sample their Sicilian slice, steak sandwich, meatball calzone, or lasagna. And I must admit, I never did try the tripe.
The final night was a rainy one but I knew what I had to do. I grabbed my umbrella and some cash and walked the block from my building. The front door was locked but a police officer motioned toward the side door. Huh, I’d never been behind the counter before. The joint was packed. Balloons, cake, the little table with cookies and Baileys. Everybody was there, including Del looking the picture of health in an Italia jersey.
I ordered a chicken parm from Giorgio. He pointed to an empty two-top in the front, said if I wanted to grab it I should do it quick. Thanks but no, I wanted to do my most common thing: the sandwich at home with a bottle of Coke in front of the TV. I shook hands, hugged, said my goodbyes and “I’ll see ya”s, and headed back into the rain.
Soon enough I’ll head over again to Blue 42 in Elmwood Park. OK, it’s not down the street but it’s only about a half hour drive — and let’s face it, everything in Jersey is about a half hour away. I happen to know that Giorgio makes a pretty damn good chicken parm. It runs in the family.
Movie Review: A Rainy Day in New York
4 stars out of 5
I generally don’t review movies that are on streaming services (in this case, Amazon Prime Video), but I did not have the option of watching A Rainy Day in New York in a theater. What is this, Communist Russia?!? Now, there are those who will dismiss out of hand anything from the mind and typewriter of Woody Allen, and I’m not here to argue that with you. But for the rest: This is a delightful motion picture, full of everything that made you love Woody in the first place.
In many ways, this is a “greatest hits” compilation of favorite Allen concepts, yet by no means a retread. It is set in his beloved, idealized Manhattan. There’s a self-doubting Allen stand-in (Timothée Shamalamadingdong). There’s a self-doubting film director (Liev Schreiber). There are paparazzi, upper-class parties, old-timey music, and yes, even a bit of a older man/younger woman attraction. Most importantly in the classic Allen way, it’s romantic and very, very smart and funny.
Chalamet’s character Gatsby (!) is obsessed with olden times and Old New York and this was probably a smart decision, as octogenarian Allen isn’t exactly hep to the young people’s lingo and references. A college kid describes a woman as “looking like Yasser Arafat.” A student reporter takes notes in a notebook with a pen! Nobody texts. People hail cabs instead of summoning an Uber. But I suppose this all lends the film sort of a timeless quality.
In effect, Allen has crafted one of the screwball comedies he has so admired, without it ever getting silly. Chalamet does decent work but the true glowing star here is Elle Fanning as Ashleigh, Gatsby’s college girlfriend. The plot, quickly: They have come to Gatsby’s hometown of NYC for the weekend so Ashleigh can interview Schreiber’s director character for the student paper. And then explore all the beauty the city has to offer. But it is a rainy day in New York, the lovers become separated, and… comedy ensues.
Fanning is a comedic marvel here. She exudes innocence, sexiness, a dash of ditziness, a good heart, and an absolute willingness to go with the flow. It takes her from director Schreiber to screenwriter Jude Law (whose wife Rebecca Hall is having an affair with his best friend, Larry Lipshitz!) to hunky leading man Diego Luna — all three scenarios and actors very amusing — and Fanning charms each one and us too. The comedy builds and builds to Boeing Boeing proportions. Meanwhile, poor Chalamet bounces from sexy sassy Selena Gomez to an upscale call girl to his mom (Cherry Jones, who delivers a hell of a monologue).
Allen puts a lot more effort into the story than you might expect at this point in his career. And he positively loads the screenplay with top-quality jokes. (“Time flies.” “Unfortunately it flies coach.”) After all he’s been through, the man is still hilarious. And cinematographer Vittorio Storaro knows how to make the city look drop-dead gorgeous, the sun struggling to peek through the raindrops.
If you have the Amazon Prime, and let’s face it, who doesn’t, consider checking this out. Maybe on a rainy day. It might be Allen’s last great all-star production. (Which is to say nothing against Wallace Shawn, Richard Kind, and Gina Gershon, heading up his next flick.) If you love intelligent comedies, which are so few and far between these days, it would be a shame to pass this one by.
What I’ve Been Watching: Edition XX
Remember the first half of 2021? Yeah me neither. But I did keep track of all the TV shows I checked out, and herewith will share my thoughts on them with you.
LOVED
Pretend It’s a City (Netflix) This felt like a real pandemic gift, a cranky oasis. Fran Lebowitz became a huge fave of mine on her many Late Night With David Letterman appearances; I devoured the paperback compilation of her books. And now here she was, sharp and hilarious as ever, kibbitzing with the delighted and delightful Martin Freaking Scorsese. Marty’s interstitial footage made this a genuine (Silbert favorite phrase trigger warning) love letter to New York.
Painting With John (HBO) Talk about unexpected pandemic gifts! I began to love the music of the Lounge Lizards back in college. And then it was thrilling to occasionally spot John Lurie on the downtown streets of Manhattan. His wild Fishing With John series and its accompanying soundtrack were huge favorites of mine and my buddy Joe. But in the recent many years, Lurie has gone into semi-seclusion, haunted by Lyme disease and other sundry issues, emerging only with increasingly great paintings and also a couple of musical dispatches under the name Marvin Pontiac. But here he was in a new series, direct from his island home, sharing stories, philosophizing, being wonderfully weird and mellow. I only wish he’d pick up the saxophone again.
The Great North (FOX) Bob’s Burgers is one of my absolute favorite shows. Two of the producers created this animated sitcom, set in small-town Alaska, and it is maybe just as good. Nick Offerman is dad to Will Forte, Jenny Slate, Paul Rust, and Aparna Nancherla. The family dynamic is wonderful, the quirks of Alaskan life add a unique twist — an “otherness” — but most importantly it’s so funny, sharp, and amazingly big-hearted. Oh and the daughter’s imaginary friend is Alanis Morissette (for real).
Open All Night (YouTube) Reading about comedians/TV writers and producers Jay Tarses and Tom Patchett, I learned about this 1981 sitcom that I had the vaguest recollection of. When I saw that Merrill Markoe had written 3 of the episodes and Letterman appeared in one, I sought out the show. There were 13 episodes, only 11 had aired, and only 8 found their way to YouTube via some kind soul. George Feester is a long-suffering sort running a 24-hour convenience store with the help of his wife, her out-of-it teen son, and Bubba Smith. Joe Mantegna plays a recurring Arab customer (hey, it was 40 years ago), just one of the many quirky characters. The show was sharply written and warmly performed, and I enjoyed being in its “open all night” setting as I watched late at night. Silbert-specific trivia: Co-star Susan Tyrell would later become a bilateral below-knee amputee.
LIKED A LOT
The Investigation (HBO) And suddenly I was watching a Danish series, based on a true story of a homemade submarine and a dead journalist. I was so impressed with the filmmaking here; I kept expecting corny Law & Order tropes but they keep it so matter-of-fact, so by-the-book. Jens Møller as the lead investigator (they would’ve cast a handsomer dude in the U.S.) is stoic and awkward and terrific.
Beartown (HBO) OK, I can handle a Danish show; bring on the Swedes! Hometown hero returns from a stint in the NHL, family in tow, to coach youth hockey in a rural village that is all about hockey. Think Friday Night Lights but with hockey in Sweden. I won’t give away the plot but suffice to say, it’s a chilling, claustrophobic indictment of bro-culture and those who would enable it. Also, I bought the original-score soundtrack.
Mare of Easttown (HBO) This series let me down in the last episode — like the much, much worse The Undoing, they packed way too much information into the finale — but overall I really enjoyed it. Kate Winslet is outstanding as trying-to-hold-together-as-her-life-crumbles police detective Mare. Yes, the eastern Pennsylvania setting was a little over-the-top yet I found it very comfortable, I liked the townies, and I would keep watching if it was a regular series. Kudos to Evan Peters for being unrecognizable from his American Horror Story work.
Hemingway (PBS) This mini-documentary (a mere 6 hours) from Ken Burns and Lynn Novick taught me an awful lot, with trusty Peter Coyote again in the narrator’s chair. I was inspired to purchase The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway.
Mr. Mayor (NBC) I should really categorize this under “Like,” but the show is almost Too Big To Fail so I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt. It was an immediate thrill to again be rewinding for missed Tina Fey-written jokes, updated for “now” culture. Ted Danson is of course perfect as the lead — smooth, self-absorbed, a bit dim, but very well-meaning. Bobby Moynihan is hilarious as one of his aides. The rest of the cast didn’t completely jell for me but I’m hopeful everything will tighten up in season 2.
LIKED
The Nevers (HBO) Probably as close as I’ll ever get to watching Downton Abbey. It’s part steam-punk, part X-Men, and all kickass turn-of-the-20th-century women. I was impressed by the rough girl/sweet girl leads, Laura Donnelly and Ann Skelly. The final episode of the season’s first half was suddenly wonked-out sci-fi (curse you, Joss Whedon) so that knocked things down a peg for me.
Kenan (NBC) I find Kenan Thompson extremely likable, and that certainly bleeds over into this almost-by-the-numbers single-dad sitcom. There is a slightly weird feel to the proceedings, I’m not sure why, but… it works. Don Johnson as Kenan’s father-in-law and Chris Redd as his brother/manager add to the low-key fun.
Hanging with Doctor Z (YouTube) Comedian Dana Gould plays the Planet of the Apes’ Dr. Zaius hosting a talk show. It’s as silly and absurd as it sounds, while also goofing on the “golden age” of Hollywood. Similar feel to T.J. Miller’s The Gorburger Show.
Laurel Canyon (EPIX) A pretty well-executed two-part documentary on the late ’60s/early ’70s laid-back L.A. music scene. Part two, focusing on the scene’s second wave of performers, was a lot less interesting to me.
Ted Lasso (Apple TV+) And the most overrated show of the pandemic goes to… Look, I don’t hate Ted Lasso. It’s under “Like.” I like it! It’s just, to hear some folks, you’d think the show was the second coming of, what? Schitt’s Creek? That’s the show it’s most often compared to because they’re both “nice.” People like nice because it’s unthreatening. A respite from all the conflict in the world. Well, I personally prefer a bit more edge. Now, Schitt’s improved quite a lot during its run… you could say the show earned its niceness via character development… and perhaps that will happen here too. I do like Ted, Nate, Higgins, and Roy Kent.
Cobra Kai (Netflix) Shocking admission: I never saw The Karate Kid back in the day. (I eventually did see the first two movies; they’re not that difficult to catch up on.) I mention this because I didn’t have that huge nostalgic pull to Cobra Kai as others of my era might. Nevertheless, I find this low-budget series enjoyable enough and occasionally pretty funny. I do find the grownup storylines — especially with Johnny — much more satisfying than the teen stuff. Oh wait, they’re trying to appeal to different demographics! I feel so used.
KIND OF LIKED, KIND OF DIDN’T
This Is a Robbery (Netflix) With the ravenous need for content, I think a lot of documentaries are being green-lit that wouldn’t have made the cut in years past. This investigation into a massive Boston art robbery would’ve made a good magazine article or NPR segment, as a friend said. But there’s just not enough compelling information for a multi-part series.
Cinema Toast (Showtime) I was sad when the Duplass Brothers’ Room 104 series came to a close, so I was eager to sample their latest effort. It seems that writers and directors were given old public-domain movies and had free rein to cut together 30 minutes with new dialogue. Room 104 was famously hit-or-miss and so was this, but as the season continued, the misses really started to outnumber the hits.
DIDN’T LIKE
Q: Into the Storm (HBO) I was ready to take a deep dive into the idiotic, hate-fueled QAnon movement. What I got was a “Whodunnit?” series, ultimately focusing on three people, two of which are the most unlikable father/son duo this side of Don and Don Jr.
WATCHED TWO EPISODES AND CERTAINLY MEANT TO KEEP WATCHING AND AT SOME POINT MIGHT ACTUALLY DO THAT
Bobcat Goldthwait’s Misfits & Monsters (truTV) Dark-humor anthology series. I’m a longtime fan of Goldthwait, what I saw was not as fantastic as I hoped, but I definitely planned to keep watching. Life’s funny sometimes.
ONE AND DONE
Lupin (Netflix) Intrigued by the whole gentleman-thief concept, but it seemed pretty phony and generic. Hey industry, make fewer shows! Make more good ones!
DELETED AFTER 10 MINUTES
The Chase (ABC) Two of my fave Jeopardy champions plus that other guy in a new game show! Except the writers and the contestants aren’t up to Jeopardy standards!
YES, I STILL WATCH THE SIMPSONS
I actually thought this was a pretty OK season? Though maybe the pandemic was getting to me.
LOOKING FORWARD TO
Summer Olympics! With the added possibility of a covid outbreak!
SHOWS I USED TO WATCH AND IN MANY CASES STILL DO
Links to Edition I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, and XIX.
Aquarium Playlist, 6/29/21
EPISODE #441: CASEY KASEM TRIBUTE 2021
“The New Scooby-Doo Movies” [ALTERNATE THEME]
Prince — “Kiss” [Billboard No. 1, 4/19/86 – 4/26/86]
Pet Shop Boys — “West End Girls” [No. 1, 5/10/86]
Peter Gabriel — “Sledgehammer” [No. 1, 7/26/86]
Bananarama — “Venus” [No. 1, 9/6/86]
Huey Lewis & the News — “Stuck With You” [No. 1, 9/20/86 – 10/4/86]
Cyndi Lauper — “True Colors” [No. 1, 10/25/86 – 11/1/86]
Human League — “Human” [No. 1, 11/22/86]
The Bangles — “Walk Like an Egyptian” [No. 1, 12/20/86 – 1/10/87]
Thunderclap Newman — “Something in the Air” [long-distance dedication]
Billy Vera & the Beaters — “At This Moment” [No. 1, 1/24/87 – 1/31/87]
Huey Lewis & the News — “Jacob’s Ladder” [No. 1, 3/14/87]
Starship — “Nothing’s Going To Stop Us Now” [No. 1, 4/4/87 – 4/11/87]
Aretha Franklin and George Michael — “I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)” [No. 1, 4/18/87 – 4/25/87]
Jack Silbert proudly records the Aquarium podcast in Hoboken, New Jersey.
Movie Review: The Sparks Brothers
4 stars out of 5
Like many in my general age range (mesozoic), my first encounter with the band Sparks was their semi-hit collaboration with the Go-Go’s Jane Wiedlin, “Cool Places,” in heavy rotation on MTV in 1983. For many that would indeed prove to be the only encounter. But we, the proud and shamed music nerds, carry a delightful burden, uncovering and rediscovering all that is worthy yet shunned. The name Sparks and of brothers Russell and Ron Mael would pop up with some regularity in British music magazines I’d read. I would stumble across their albums filed under Miscellaneous S. In the current millennium, I’d note glowing reviews of releases Lil’ Beethoven and Hello Young Lovers in obscure publications and see those albums earn shelf space in independent stores. They teamed up with downside-of-their-career alternative stars Franz Ferdinand. When the happenin’ young band A Giant Dog covered Sparks’ “Angst in my Pants,” I finally broke down and purchased a Best of Sparks compilation.
And now there was a movie to see. And not one of those cheap little music docs you discovered while flipping through Prime Video or Hulu in the darkest days of the pandemic. This is a THEATRICAL RELEASE with a big-name director, Edgar Wright. (Um, Baby Driver? Shaun of the Dead? Heard of him?) And yes, maybe it will be the same batch of music nerds who go to see this, but maybe just maybe if you’re a bit more into music than your idiot neighbor, you’ll check this out, and it will be worth your while.
Let me throw some names at you, producers who’ve worked with Sparks. Todd Rundgren. Tony Visconti. Giorgio Moroder. These are not hacks! They appear in the movie and say nice things about Sparks. But don’t fret, this is not 2.5 hours of talking heads. Wright knows what he’s doing, and mixes in animation and humor and for the longest time, I sat there smiling. Why can’t more documentarians realize that they’re allowed to be entertaining? (But don’t get too entertaining. We still want careful, sober research. OK you know what, forget I said anything.)
The Mael brothers are old enough to have been inspired by the birth of rock ’n roll, so they indeed span the Entire History of Modern Music. As the ’60s become the ’70s and ’80s and ’90s and whatever’s happened since, we see Sparks evolve yet never really attempt to adjust. There is no pandering to modern trends. When a 1980s label exec told them to make music you can dance to, they put out a snarky single called “Music You Can Dance To.” And were promptly dropped from the label.
Lots of familiar faces show up on-screen to praise Sparks: Mike Myers, Beck, Jason Schwartzman, John Taylor and Nick Rhodes, etc. Am not sure we needed the opinions of Patton Oswalt, Jake Fogelnest, and some lesser comedic lights. (Even trusty Fred Armisen doesn’t have much to contribute.)
What we end up with is a story of perseverance and nonstop creativity. If the documentary lacks the too-easy drama of a Behind the Music, it’s because there are no sibling-screaming breakups, no in-and-out stints in rehab, etc. Sparks just keep going. I learned an awful lot from this movie, perhaps most importantly for me how hilarious and sharp Ron Mael’s lyrics are. Will have to listen to these songs a little more closely, even when it’s music you can dance to.
Jack Silbert, curator