The 19th Annual SF Sketchfest lineup tempted me mightily, and last weekend I decided to check out a few shows. Saturday night brought me to Cafe du Nord, where Jonah Ray was set to perform “Weird Al” Yankovic covers with a full band. As a lifelong “Weird Al” fan I was pretty excited, but had no idea what to expect. When the (excellent) backing band lurched into “Eat It,” Ray turned the tale of mealtime fussiness into a surprisingly affecting screamo dirge. Yankovic’s songs worked well as hardcore punk, especially “Happy Birthday” from his self-titled debut. I plan to nab a copy of Ray’s You Can’t Call Me Al, but I admit I liked the set’s bonus songs best. The deconstructed version of Mel Brooks’ “High Anxiety” sounded great, and I adored the “Fox On The Run” nods in the glam-rock version of Yankovic’s “Yoda.” Since those aren’t posted anywhere, try “Welcome To (Amish) Paradise”:
On Sunday I headed next door to the Swedish American Hall (home of a few beloved past shows) to watch Old 97’s singer-songwriter Rhett Miller present his Wheels Off variety show. The evening overflowed with unexpected delights. I knew comedian Dave Hill could play guitar, but I was quite unprepared for his virtuosic shredding as he accompanied Miller’s alt-country cover of the Cars’ “My Best Friend’s Girl.” Likewise, Sketchfest co-founder Janet Varney knocked me out during her beautiful duet with Miller. (She evoked the best of Neko Case and Maria McKee at once, I’m not kidding!) Not to be outdone, self-proclaimed Sketchfest fanatic Miller has plenty of witty material himself. This version of the Old 97’s song “Jesus Loves You” may be more reserved than Sunday’s, but you’ll get the picture…
Since I’m a big fan of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend star Rachel Bloom (her San Francisco Sketchfest show was downright epic!) and show composer/Fountains of Wayne tunesmith Adam Schlesinger, it was guaranteed that a number from the series would appear here one day. A big part of me is shocked that it turned out to be this one. I’ve always had a tortured relationship with Muppet homage puppets, and worldly-wise puppet characters in general. I still haven’t seen Avenue Q, for example, even though my Stanford classmate Jordan Gelber starred in the original Broadway cast. (One of my favorite college memories involves an improv class where the suggestion was “A Yellow Christmas.” I narrated the story about newts yearning to experience Christmas on the sand dunes, while Gelber ended up playing Santa Claus. That’s another post altogether.) Then there was the time my friend Jeanette visited from Chicago, and we were staying in San Francisco. For several nights, we debated going to a Puppet Up! performance, finally admitting to each other that we didn’t think we could handle watching dirty Muppets on stage. (Near-tearful hugs followed.) That said, the cat chorus (charmingly voiced by Schlesinger, Steven Gold, and Nina Zeitlin) adds the perfect touch to the incredibly catchy song, and James Hayes’ cat puppets are downright irresistible. (After all, there are no iconic cats in the Muppet canon, unless someone out there can correct me. I only remember short-lived Sesame Street characters Chip and Dip, who weren’t too cute and didn’t have speaking roles.) Note the authentic Muppet headbanging the cats do (side-to-side, not back and forth as in heavy metal), and the visible arm rods! (While puppetry has obviously become more technologically advanced, I really miss the old-school ways. I remember bellowing “The world has gone to hell in a handbasket!” the first time I saw CGI Twiddlebugs.)
As for spelling out the title with dashes, what can I say? I always choose the unexpurgated version of any song, but I’m still lame enough to worry that my grade-school nuns will stumble onto my blog one day. I’m just a bundle of contradictions!
In a post on the Longreads blog yesterday, Aaron Gilbreath discussed Maria Konnikova’s 2014 New Yorker piece about the science of misheard lyrics or mondegreens. Of course, I couldn’t read either story without thinking of my personal mondegreen history. I first heard of the phenomenon when I read Beverly Cleary’s Ramona The Pest as a child. The book features a scene where Miss Binney teaches Ramona’s class “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and Ramona thinks the song discusses a special lamp called a dawnzer. (Later, she explains to her family that the dawnzer gives a “lee light.”) I laughed, but I couldn’t help thinking the whole thing was ridiculous. My own mondegreen misadventures, after all, were years in the future.
Fast forward to college, where I insisted that Kurt Cobain was repeating the phrase “dirty nylons” at the end of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” (My best friend seemed bemused, to say the least.) Then there was the time I heard the hook to a classic James Brown number, and I was sure it was about Alice sitcom star Vic Tayback. That certainly would have added a whole new layer of meaning to my favorite Everybody Hates Chris episode:
Oddly enough, I never misheard the two most cited examples of the mondegreen world, Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze” and Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising.” I believe that the true mondegreen gold standard is “Hey Sandy” by Polaris, best known as the theme song to beloved ’90s Nickelodeon series The Adventures of Pete and Pete. Listen below:
It sounds like Mark Mulcahy is singing “Hey Sandy, does your dog bite?” at the beginning of the chorus, right? Unbelievably enough, he is singing “Hey Sandy, don’t you talk back.” Jeremy D. Frens addressed this in the FAQ for The Web Site of Pete and Pete years ago. In spite of definitive information from members of Polaris, many people refuse to believe him. (I admit that I had to see Mulcahy sing the song live at San Francisco Sketchfest a few years ago to be convinced.)
Feel free to post your own mondegreen experiences in the comments. I promise not to judge!
Happy birthday to Mr. T, born Laurence Tureaud in Chicago on May 21st, 1952. I’m sure many other sites will tell you about his role as Clubber Lang in Rocky III, his WWE Hall of Fame pro wrestling career, and his four-year run as B.A. Baracus in the ’80s action series The A-Team. So, here are some personal observations and meditations on the star, in no particular order.
1) Mr. T has appeared in several comic sketches with Conan O’Brien. On 2003’s Late Night With Conan O’Brien 10th Anniversary Special, he insisted that while Conan had been on TV for ten years, he’d only been funny for seven. Then there’s this gem from a 2009 episode of Conan:
2) Over the years, a lot of merchandise has been issued in Mr. T’s likeness, including B.A. Baracus dolls and the Mr. T Chia Head. (A truly dizzying array can be seen here.) I am the proud owner of a Mr. T In Your Pocket, an unwieldy plastic keychain that has six buttons, each corresponding to a Mr. T saying. My favorite is the one where Mr. T barks “First name Mister, middle name period, last name…T!” (It’s true: he did legally change his name to Mr. T in 1982.)
3) In September 1984, St. Martin’s Press published Mr. T’s The Man With The Gold: An Autobiography. I haven’t read the book, but Debbie Harry read selections from it as part of Celebrity Autobiography in this year’s Sketchfest. Her performance was delightful, even if it gave me some intense cognitive dissonance.
4) When I was a child, my dentist had an A-Team cast photo on display in his office. It was signed by all the actors, including Mr. T. I was really impressed (and heartbroken when, years later, I noticed that the photo had gone missing). Dr. Bruno had received the photo from a friend who knew George Peppard, and claimed that he didn’t watch the show himself. Whatever you say, Bruce!
5) In 1984, Mr. T released two albums: Mr. T’s Commandments, and Be Somebody…or Be Somebody’s Fool. The latter recording is the soundtrack for an exceptionally surreal straight-to-video special of the same name, which has inspired many YouTube viewings and a sublime Key and Peele parody. In their (highly recommended) book Hollywood Hi-Fi, George Gimarc and Pat Reeder note that “Mr. T proves to be about as graceful and fluid at rapping as he would be at toe dancing.” I will point out that Mr. T did execute a nice pirouette in the “Trust” episode of his 2006 reality show I Pity The Fool, so make of that what you will.
While researching this post, I found no fewer than three songs called “The Ballad of Mr. T.” May this modern-day folk legend continue to be larger than life.
Happy 70th birthday to Micky Dolenz, a true Renaissance man of our era. He’s been a mainstay of stage, screen, and television since his debut in 1956 (as Micky Braddock) as the ten-year-old star of Circus Boy. He’s published three books, worked extensively as a director, and become a successful radio host. Of course, Dolenz is best known from the show The Monkees, which ran on NBC from 1965 to 1967. The Monkees spawned a number of bonafide hit singles, many of which feature Dolenz on lead vocals. The history of the Monkees as a band is complex indeed, and has been known to evoke strong feelings in music fans and even the members themselves. I have been an unabashed fan of both the show and the music since I watched Monkees reruns as a child, and Micky Dolenz’s performances have a lot to do with that. Dolenz himself seems more positive about the show than many of his cohorts, approaching it with refreshing good humor over the years. I still love his cameo in “The Grungies,” the classic 1992 sketch from The Ben Stiller Show:
(Why, yes, that was Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul star Bob Odenkirk as one of the bandmates! But back to the topic at hand…)
Dolenz wrote (with Mark Bego) one of my favorite memoirs ever, 1993’s I’m A Believer: My Life of Monkees, Music, and Madness. The anecdotes make it appeal to any fan of music or television, but Dolenz’s honesty and easygoing humor make it much more than a Hollywood novelty. It’s especially clever when Dolenz presents personal traumas (his Vietnam draft physical, battles with the Monkees show producers) as film scenes or seriocomic dream sequences. This is why I was thrilled to see him brought in as a last-minute replacement in the Celebrity Autobiography shows at San Francisco Sketchfest this past February. (For the record, he was equally compelling as Joe Namath, Tommy Lee, and Loni Anderson’s pool boy. I admired his willingness to appear in a show that sends up celebrity memoirs, but then he must know that his own is too good to ever become fodder for the show.)
In August 2005, Dolenz played two free shows at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk as part of their annual summer concert series. While I would have substituted songs such as “Goin’ Down” and “Randy Scouse Git” for some that he performed, Dolenz sounded great and had real stage presence. The woman singing backup had a phenomenal voice, and I couldn’t wait to find out who she was. I was delighted to learn that she was none other than Micky’s older sister, Coco! Their take on “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” was the evening’s highlight for me.
This leads to the second installment of the “Song In My Head” series here on the blog. First of all, I want to apologize to anyone reading this who attended the early show at the Boardwalk that night in 2005. You see, I was screaming “Play ‘She’ll Be There’!” every five minutes (to no avail, sadly) at Micky and Coco. (The rest of you will understand why in a few moments.) I first heard this song on a mix tape sent to me by my Bubblegum Music Is The Naked Truth editor David Smay when I was in college, and I was knocked out by its beauty. Featured on volume three of Rhino Records’ Monkees 1996 rarities collection Missing Links, this understated gem deserves a much bigger audience. Thrill to the delicate acoustic melody and the perfect harmonies of Micky and Coco:
On February 28, 1984, “Weird Al” Yankovic released “Eat It,” his parody of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It,” as a single. Written by Yankovic and produced by Rick Derringer, it would reach #12 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. The song met with international success as well, becoming a #1 single in Australia (besting its inspiration’s chart position) and reaching #6 in New Zealand. “Eat It” won the Grammy for best comedy recording in 1984, and was certified gold by the RIAA in 1989.
Why does “Eat It” endure while countless parodies (and parodists) have not? Part of it has to do with the care Yankovic took in its craftsmanship. Funny lyrics aside, the song sacrifices none of its inspiration’s sonic heaviness. Producer Derringer’s credentials include guitar work on Alice Cooper’s Killer album, and he was enlisted to play the guitar solo on Yankovic’s recording. (Some people still are convinced that it was Eddie Van Halen, who played the solo on Michael Jackson’s recording, proving Yankovic’s painstaking attention to detail.) The exactitude is especially obvious when you watch the “Eat It” video (which deservedly became an MTV staple) alongside “Beat It”:
(Interestingly enough, Yankovic has gone on to direct videos by artists as diverse as Hanson and the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. But I digress.)
“Weird Al” Yankovic deeply influenced my youth. I got the “Eat It” single (I even played the B-side, “That Boy Could Dance,” repeatedly), followed by Yankovic’s In 3-D. I lipsynched that album’s reggae spoof “Buy Me A Condo” for a grade-school talent show. (I brought the house down, if I do say so myself. I confess that I had no awareness whatsoever of the reggae genre or any of its performers as a nine-year-old, however.) Eventually, I wrote a fan letter. I distinctly remember addressing him as “Weird” Al Yankovic instead of “Weird Al” Yankovic, even then realizing the implication that I didn’t think of him as weird. (I didn’t! I still don’t.) He replied promptly and sent three autographed photo postcards: one for me, and one each for my mom and grandma. Cool, no?
Naturally, when Yankovic went on tour in 1985 to support his Dare To Be Stupid album, I had to see him play. I begged my mom to buy tickets for his show at the now-defunct Circle Star Theatre in San Carlos, and we forced my older brother to drive us there. (Since my dad had to go to work the next day, he didn’t join us.) Yankovic’s showmanship was impressive, and his crackerjack band (featuring drummer Jon “Bermuda” Schwartz) could go from Devo-esque New Wave to full-on James Brown soul on a dime. (Yes, sticklers, I am aware that this show predated “Living With A Hernia”: Schwartz would lead the band in a clever vamp during Al’s lengthiest costume change.) I maintain that Yankovic is the ideal first concert experience, because watching him is like seeing many bands at once.
San Francisco Sketchfest presented a tribute to Yankovic last month at the Castro Theatre. During Chris Hardwick’s interview and the audience Q&A afterward, I was struck by two things. The house was packed with fans of all ages, which I expected. I was surprised, however, that most attendees mentioned something other than “Eat It” as their first “Weird Al” exposure. (Hardwick, who is a few years older than I am and lived in the “Eat It” era, discovered him through the 1999 Running With Scissors album.) Yankovic’s 14 studio albums embrace a wide array of styles and subjects, and have given the artist at least one Top 40 hit in every decade since he began recording. (The only other two artists to do that are Madonna and Michael Jackson.)
Comedy is hard, but Alfred Yankovic still makes it look easy, a full 31 years after “Eat It.” May his legend continue to grow.
As you may have guessed from the previous post, the 14th Annual San Francisco Sketchfest is in full swing. I don’t get to Sketchfest every year, but I’ve been a big fan for a while. In fact, in 2007 I interviewed festival founders Janet Varney, Cole Stratton, and David Owen for a Santa Cruz Sentinel article, which appears here on the Sketchfest website. (While I plan to mention the byline typo to someone there, I was happy to see the story again.)
One event I plan to attend is Stardumb, billed as “an offbeat comedy hybrid that examines the silly side of celebrity” featuring “questions and categories that probe the career foibles of celeb panelists.” One panelist is Kevin McDonald, from the beloved long-running sketch troupe The Kids In The Hall (and, more recently, the short-lived but Elizabeth-favored cartoon show Catscratch). I don’t know the logistics of the Stardumb format itself, but is anyone else hoping McDonald will get to do this?
Yesterday I took a day trip to San Francisco to see the (immensely entertaining) Animaniacs tribute at Sketchfest. There were a few moments where I realized that I may indeed have a problem…
9:50 AM: I arrived in San Jose. I could have boarded a 10 AM Caltrain to the city, but instead I took a bus several long blocks across town. I needed to return a copy of Mike Sacks’ And Here’s The Kicker to the King Library. Sunday transit schedules being what they are, it was a real nail-biter to get back to Diridon Station to take the 10:35. (By the way, Sacks’ book is a great choice for any fan of comedy writing, and I bought the newly updated edition for myself over the holidays.)
12 PM: I arrived in San Francisco. The show was at 1 PM. I passed up a chance to eat lunch or (this will shock those who know me) drink coffee in one of the city’s fine establishments to head to the Main Library on Larkin Street. I had several items being held for me, and I knew I wouldn’t have time to pick them up after the show. I really had to hurry to get to Marines’ Memorial on time.
Who borrows items from libraries located so far away from home, heedless of the inconvenience?
A hopeless addict, that’s who. Sigh.
In my defense, I wouldn’t have borrowed items if I weren’t coming back to San Francisco in a few weeks. And hey, check out this haul!
Coastal Book Gal 