An Incredibly Nerdy Post to Celebrate Something I've Spent Over Half My Life With...

I’ve been watching The Simpsons since the beginning, when, in high school, I heard that one of my favorite cartoonists, Matt Groening, had created a series of short cartoons for The Tracey Ullman Show. I tuned in, along with all of my senior buddies, on December 17, 1989 when the debut episode, “Simpsons Roasting on an Open Fire,” aired. Ever since, I’ve been a nuisance to family and friends. I’ve been able to reference a particular Simpsons moment for nearly every life situation. For instance, on a recent trip down to San Diego, there was a moment when my companions and I smelled a skunk. “El gato malodoro,” I said in Bumbleeman’s fake Spanish.

In other words, I’m a superfan. I am writing and posting this on December 16, 2009, one day before the show turns 20. As much as I have loved The Simpsons, I never imagined that the show would last for two decades. We’re about to see a ton of hype surrounding the anniversary, with lots of promotion from Fox including contests and a Morgan Spurlock-created documentary. I’ve surprised myself upon realizing I haven’t yet written extensively about the show. But, upon reading the news this morning online (a notion that would have seemed particularly futuristic and alien in 1989), I found an article that spurred me to write: Click Here

This article had me in fits. I wasn’t necessarily angry, but I found myself at odds with myself over different segments of the piece. First of all, I’m never a fan of puff pieces. CNN could have easily written a superficial anniversary story, but instead they hit at the heart of what every Simpsons fan is obsessed with--the possibility of declining quality. I was both mortified and intrigued. They even quoted so-called devotees of the show who hinted that maybe it had worn out its welcome.

As a fan, I’ve always been disgusted by the remarks of other fans. When the creators of the show speak on commentaries about certain cast members, early Internet posters, or current bloggers denouncing particular shows, I want to scream. People who supposedly love the show are essentially biting the hands that feed them. And usually, the episodes they are denouncing end up to be some of my favorites, quoted extensively. Case in point, “Homer’s Enemy,” in which we are introduced to Frank Grimes, a very real-life inspired character who points out Homer Simpson’s inanities. I thought it was brilliant from the start, but fans at the time simply hated it.

The main complaints that fans seem to have, as pointed out by the CNN article, is that the show seems packed full of jokes rather than telling an emotional story, as had been done early in the show’s history. The other complaint is that the show has become a revolving door for guest stars, with stories built around these random zeitgeist driven appearances. I sympathize with both of these complaints, and have had them myself from time to time. However, these complaints have never been strong enough to make me think that the show should be off the air. If given the chance to have a world without Simpsons, and one in which the characters still entertain every week, albeit in a degraded fashion, I’ll take the latter.

That being said, I’ll give you my own thoughts about the show, my favorites, least favorites, and general thoughts about one of my favorite shows on television.

There’s no doubt in my mind that the first three seasons of the show were the most centered on the family. With the show’s early creators forging a path from rudimentary beginnings, and the obvious influence of James L. Brooks, stories sprung from family situations such as Bart and Lisa’s troubles in school / not fitting in, the family’s money troubles, the threat of infidelity, and many brushes with success that never pan out as the family hopes. The first three seasons feature some iconic episodes counted among the show’s best, including “There’s No Disgrace Like Home,” “The Call of the Simpsons,” “Krusty Gets Busted,” “Simpson and Delilah,” “Itchy & Stratchy & Marge,” “One Fish, Two Fish, Blowfish, Blue Fish” and many others. (I don’t want to turn this post into one big nerdy list).

The show hit its popularity and quality peak in the next five seasons, with character voices and personalities hitting their stride, many of the background characters of Springfield not only introduced, but also fleshed out, strong jokes and great stories. Some of my favorite episodes of the show come from these particular seasons. Don’t misunderstand me; there are plenty of episodes I enjoy after season eight. Unlike many complaining fans, I don’t think Mike Scully (as showrunner), brought on the decline of the show. Scully brought on several talented writers and dared to take some risks with the show. HOWEVER, risk is a fine balance. Sometimes things can go too far, too ridiculous, and too “meta.” Not only that, but when you start destroying the vast history of the characters and their world, merely for the sake of making cultural references, you insult the fans who have stuck with you for years.

Fans as devoted as me could probably guess that I’m referencing a particular writer and one particular show. Matt Selman’s “That 90’s Show” is the one instance that made me think the unthinkable, that I didn’t like an episode of The Simpsons. For that reason alone, I could distinguish Matt Selman as my least favorite writer of the show. However, he has made it easy for me, in writing several other shows among my least favorites. For instance, the most recent episode aired, “O Brother, Where Bart Thou?” in which Selman places a clunky rip-off of South Park within the show. It is an example of what I find in most of Selman’s shows, constant pop culture references without a lot of humor or story. I know this is the trend with current animated shows such as South Park and Family Guy, but I conjecture that The Simpsons shouldn’t have to ape these other shows, but rather return to the family driven humor and pathos that made the show popular in the first place.

There is no reason why absurd cannot mix with great story, however, which brings me to my favorite writer, John Swartzwelder. Some may cry foul over choosing the most prolific writer, but every time I look at my favorite episodes, I am never surprised to find out they were from the mind of Swartzwelder. His scripts have featured iconic Simpsons moments: the flying rabbit when the family went camping (“The Call of the Simpsons”), the revamped family-friendly Itchy & Scratchy sharing lemonade (“Itchy & Scratchy & Marge”), as well as many others, and the entire episodes of “Rosebud,” “Homie the Clown,” “You Only Move Twice,” “Homer’s Enemy” and my all-time favorite, “Whacking Day.”

The perfect example of Swartzwelder being able to combine absolute zaniness with story-driven plots is with his show, “Homer Simpson in: Kidney Trouble.” In this particular episode, Grampa Simpson needs a kidney transplant, and Homer is afraid of going under the knife, fleeing at every opportunity, a solid, emotional, family-driven concept. In the opening act, the family visits a recreated Old West tourist attraction. According to the script, a stage direction is given that the cowboys start to shoot at one another, and one cowboy, for some reason, starts digging a hole. The animators chose to include it in the show, it goes by quickly, but it is absolutely hilarious, albeit crazy.

These jokes lie in stark contrast to Matt Selman’s lead balloon references. In fact, there are a few Selman penned episodes that revolve entirely around pop culture concepts. These, in my estimation, are the least entertaining episodes out there. For one, the aforementioned “That 90’s Show,” and for another, “Bart Gets a Z.” The latter episode seems to simply be a parody of the popular book, “The Secret,” which, with its ridiculous notions of being able to make things happen with the ‘new age’ assertion of the power of positive thinking, itself an notion already asserted for years, was already a parody of itself. Making fun of “The Secret” is like making Michael Jackson jokes. It’s been done, it never needed to be done due to its broad nature, and the jokes aren’t funny. Don’t get me started on “Blue Bronco,” his on-the-nose parody of Red Bull.

I know that writing for television is not easy. But, how Al Jean, a showrunner who has presented some of the best stories in the show’s history, has allowed Selman to continue to write and produce such inferior work is beyond me. In commentaries, besides coming off as extraordinarily pompous, Selman seems to exalt Swartzwelder’s scripts and novels, but never seems to take a cue from his writing. (Not to say that pompousness is a factor in my estimation of actual writing, it’s just more of a turn off. I feel the same way about Ken Keeler, who makes me want to punch him in the face during particular commentaries, but writes excellent scripts for The Simpsons and Futurama. Keeler also wrote another history changing episode with the highly controversial "The Principal and the Pauper," but this episode was much more story driven than referential, and so was inestimably better.)

Oddly, it appears that I am in a minority. Today’s young fans seem to love Selman’s episodes. I just don’t get it. Today’s fans also make a claim that stuns me every time I read it, that they absolutely abhor Lisa-centric episodes. When it comes to well written, emotional episodes, there are almost no better shows than Lisa shows. Think about it, “Lisa the Greek,” “Lisa’s Rival,” “Lisa the Vegetarian,” “Lisa the Iconoclast,” and maybe the most powerful episode, “Lisa’s Substitute,” are all funny, heart-tugging and well formed. She is the heart of the show. The show has gone through several phases including a very heavy Bart focus in the first few seasons, then switching to an increasingly intelligence-challenged Homer, and then exploring the various and sundry Springfield residents, but Lisa has remained steadfast throughout, always sticking to her beliefs and tolerant, if not loving with her family. When Lisa feels something strongly, we feel it too. Many great shows have this kind of character, and the best examples I can think of are the shows of Joss Whedon. Willow, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Kaylee, from Firefly, exemplify this archetypal character to the hilt.

After 20 years, I don’t think The Simpsons has run out of stories. With as many characters as exist in Springfield, it would seem to me that the options are limitless. Years ago, Matt Groening and company proposed a spin-off called Springfield Stories, a show that would not have to revolve around the Simpson family, but instead explore the town’s denizens more closely. Maybe that’s still a good idea, and a way to get good stories out of characters that may be underused in their original show. As far as The Simpsons, I would suggest that there are indeed some ideas that are played out or should be avoided: Homer in another job setting, retelling classic stories in a ‘Simpson-y’ way (other than the Treehouse of Horror episodes), and for Pete’s sake, any show that attempts to rewrite Simpsons history. There are plenty of work, family, school and everyday life situations that could still be explored. I’m not claiming to say that this is easy, by any means, but with so many producers and consultants, you’d think they’d be able to avoid the low points. After all, they made The Simpsons Movie, which had some of the funniest as well as most touching moments in the show’s history. Not kidding, there are nearly fifty producers in total in this current season.

After the last few paragraphs, you might get the idea that I am no longer a fan of the show. This couldn’t be further from the truth. I still watch the show religiously. I have a few complaints here and there, but I usually keep my silence and allow for a few mistakes in an otherwise highly entertaining show. Early in the show’s history, a writer made a joke with the 100th episode that they were “halfway there.” Of course, that turned out to be prophetic, and even shortchanged the eventual run. But, I sincerely hope that the show could last another twenty years. In an environment that finds most of my favorite shows canceled before their time (Firefly, Veronica Mars, Arrested Development, Carnivale, Dollhouse, Deadwood), I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Smell ya later.

Some Kind of Wonderful Director

The first ever ‘date movie’ I experienced was John Hughes’ Pretty in Pink. I don’t know if I can aver that the film changed my life at that time. I was in junior high, so, for one thing, this double date excursion had to be chauffeured. For another, I wasn’t quite mature enough to understand higher complexities of love and social strata inherent in Hughes’ films. You’ll notice that I earlier called the film, “John Hughes’ Pretty in Pink.” This is one of the few times I can recall that a film, or series of films, is attributed to the writer, rather than director. True, he did direct a handful of the films he wrote, but Hughes was such a master of the high school film oeuvre, there is no way any associated director would ever get credit. (For the record, Pretty in Pink was directed by Howard Deutch). Hughes’ gifts were many, including, but not limited to, his ability to capture the angst of teenage life, but with humor and reverence. All the while, Hughes hired the best music supervisors for the job, marrying some of the best music of the generation with his turbulent teenage tales.

Although I can’t claim to have my world changed as a teenager, I can claim that John Hughes’ films were an important part of my life, and that I have been able to radically rediscover them as an adult. Now that I am nearly twenty years on from graduating high school, I can see these films in a completely different light. In a way, they become wish fulfillment, a portrait of what could have been, or possibly, at times, what actually was without my realizing it.

I’ve opined many times over, in other articles and music reviews, about how the music in John Hughes’ films drastically changed my life. Even though most of the music on the respective Hughes soundtracks could be lumped into the same genre, each collection sounds, to me, radically different than the next. And so, I give you my little tribute to an iconic filmmaker and my favorites amongst his work:

Sixteen Candles (1984)

Sixteen Candles is the first of Hughes’ high school comedies and would really start it all for an entire genre. It was one of many of Hughes’ films to be named after popular songs. It also began Hughes’ longtime professional partnerships with both Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall, the redheaded ingénue and typecast geek who would inhabit a good portion of his films. There was such magic between these two actors; it’s easy to see why Hughes cast them over and over again. Sophomore Samantha Baker reached what is supposed to be her ‘sweet sixteen’ birthday, only to realize her entire family forgot with the ensuing preparations for her sister’s wedding. On top of that, she’s the outsider in love with the most popular guy in school, and she’s in turn being pursued by the self-professed “king of the dorks,” a freshman who is actually never properly named, other than “Farmer Ted” or, as it is written in the script, “The Geek.”

What struck me upon reviewing Sixteen Candles again was how resilient Farmer Ted actually ended up to be. While Sam pines for Jake Ryan, and ends up crying in hallways for a good portion of the film, who’s to say that Ted isn’t as heartbroken as Sam? Ted actually exhibits a large amount of compassion for Sam during her emotional breakdowns, though his motives still remain suspect, constantly misinterpreting cues as consent for sexual advances. Ted even helps Sam and Jake get together, even though he harbors desires for Sam. Of course, Ted is rewarded for his efforts as exhibited by a hilarious post-coital scene with Jake’s popular ex. The social strata in Sixteen Candles is apparent, though maybe not as pronounced as in other films. Ted and his two geek buddies, one played by a young John Cusack, are easily the outcasts of the school. Not only are they portrayed as nerds, talking to each other over remote headsets though standing next to each other, but they are also freshmen. While Samantha might not be a social outcast, she is obviously not part of the social elite. Even so, while Samantha may not be accepted by Jake Ryan, his girlfriend and their collective friends, she is also a few rungs above Ted and his friends, able to hurl insults at him without reprisal. The part I found most refreshing about the social behaviors in Sixteen Candles is that ultimately, Samantha would talk to Ted and reveal her problems. Jake also talked to Ted and treated him with an amount of respect and friendship. This was more what my high school experience was like. Sure, there were friendship cliques, but for the most part, I was able to get along with most everyone.

The music in Sixteen Candles is quite possibly the most diverse out of all of Hughes’ films. The requisite KROQ fodder is represented by Oingo Boingo, The Vapors, Kajagoogoo, the Specials, Billy Idol, and the Stray Cats performing the cover title track. My favorites of that ilk are “Happy Birthday” by Altered Images, Wham’s “Young Guns (Go For It)” and Nick Heyward’s Whistle Down the Wind.” But a mix of other songs make this soundtrack something unique. Hughes’ use of source music started here, as he brilliantly edits in the Dragnet theme, the Peter Gunn theme, classics from Frank Sinatra and the Godfather theme. Of course, any movie with a high school dance can’t get away without using Spandau Ballet’s “True.” I think it might be against the law to not play “True” at a high school dance. Bowie’s “Young Americans” seemed to stand out as I view it today, but back then, he was just changing his style and wasn’t quite the legend he is now. And, as would become a signature trademark for Hughes’ films, the movie closes with a truly powerful song; this one being the Thompson Twins’ underrated “If You Were Here.”

The Breakfast Club (1985)

The Breakfast Club is, was, and forever shall be a phenomenon. It is rumored to have, along with St. Elmo’s Fire, spawned the term, “The Brat Pack.” The premise is simple: five students, from completely different cliques, end up in Saturday detention at Shermer High School (Hughes’ fictional Illinois town). They are, as narrated in the film, “in the simplest terms, the most convenient definitions: a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal.” Over the course of their day, they clash and reveal truths about themselves which lead them to discover they’re not that different after all. Judd Nelson’s quotable turn as John Bender will most likely forever go down in teen film history as one of the most memorable performances ever given. That’s not to say the other four teen stars (3 of them were in their 20’s when they filmed, to be fair) were not remarkable.

Again, as in Sixteen Candles, by the end of the film, social demarcations seem to be shattered, but those lines were much stronger in this film, as that was somewhat the point. In fact, these characters say some of the most hurtful, yet truthful, things in this film regarding social mores. When Claire claims that she and Andrew wouldn’t greet Brian in the hallway on Monday, in my experience, I’d say she’s probably right. Now, I wasn’t of a particular clique that necessarily shunned anyone, but I’ve seen it happen. The five teens confront the stereotypes associated with them, and then both confirm and shatter those stereotypes at the same time. After Columbine, Virginia Tech, and a host of other school shootings, Brian’s revelation about brining a gun to school now carries an even heavier connotation. But, it also makes the revelation that it was a flare gun even funnier.

Far fewer pop songs were used in The Breakfast Club than in most of the other Hughes films. But, ironically, probably the biggest hit and most iconic song to spring from Hughes came from this film. Simple Minds’ “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” is the quintessential teen flick track. It’s been referenced, spoofed and used a thousand times over, and it was made specifically for this film. In fact, not many might know that Simple Minds didn’t write the song. It was written by Keith Forsey, the man who provides most of the instrumental music for the film. That music, in turn, later influenced M83’s great album, Saturdays=Youth. Other than maybe Wang Chung, most other incidental music is from relatively obscure artists, including E.G. Daily, better known for playing Dottie in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and the voice of Tommy Pickles from Rugrats.

Weird Science (1985)

It had been done before, and even references those earlier films, but in Weird Science, two outcast nerds, naturally, create the ultimate woman. This woman, in turn, then goes about giving the two boys everything they desire, only to teach them that everything they desire isn’t everything its cracked up to be. What they eventually learn, as most Hughes characters eventually do, is that life is hard enough without trying to be something you’re not.

This is probably the one film from Hughes that just hasn’t held up as well as the rest. Sure, Anthony Michael Hall is back as his geeky self, having gone through a growth spurt and cracking voice, and his drunk scenes are easily some of the funniest moments of his career, but there is something lacking. Maybe it’s the weakness of Ilan Mitchell Smith’s character, or possibly even the miscasting of Kelly LeBrock. Either way, Weird Science became a cult hit, and it’s pure wish fulfillment. Every high school kid dreams of becoming the most popular kid in school, the one with the awesome car and hot significant other. It also brought two significant actors to the public’s attention, Bill Paxton, as the imitatable Chet, and Robert Downey, Jr. as one of the two main bullies.

Weird Science made a national name for what I call one of the biggest local bands in history. Oingo Boingo had been on soundtracks before, including Sixteen Candles, Bachelor Party and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, but it wasn’t until Weird Science and the next year’s Back to School that they started gaining any kind of national attention. A few random acts appear on the soundtrack, and names that don’t necessarily seem to go together on paper, but they seem to work in the movie. OMD would feature on the soundtrack, but wouldn’t gain the same notoriety they would a year later with Pretty in Pink. And aside from the title track, the most memorable song from the film would be General Public’s “Tenderness,” though it wouldn’t be the only English Beat related song to appear in a John Hughes film.

Pretty in Pink (1986)

A girl from the wrong side of the tracks falls for a guy from wealth and vice versa. But, would the pressures of social stigma keep them from getting together? It’s a simple premise, but John Hughes turned it into something altogether funny, heartbreaking and real in Pretty in Pink. Originally supposed to reunite Ringwald and Hall, the latter turned down the role, afraid of being typecast. Thankfully, that role went to Jon Cryer, who managed to turn “Duckie” into a character that can’t be pigeonholed into a stereotype. In fact, most girls I’ve talked to seemed to prefer Duckie over Andrew McCarthy’s pretty lead, Blaine. (“That’s not a name, that’s a major appliance!”) Hughes’ originally written ending had Andie, played by Ringwald, realizing that Duckie was her true love, but studio pressure forced him to change it so that she would end up with Blaine.

Once again, Hughes masterfully captures the pain and angst of clashing cultures and hormones in the teenage years. Even though Ringwald and McCarthy play the romantic leads, and they do so incredibly well, considering that just one year previous, Ringwald played the near opposite of Andie in The Breakfast Club’s Claire, the movie is nearly stolen by the side characters. Jon Cryer’s Duckie, James Spader’s Steff, Harry Dean Stanton’s Jack Walsh, and Annie Potts’ Iona shine in every scene they inhabit. In fact, I’ve harbored quite the crush on Iona for years. She’s hip, funny, beautiful and sassy all at the same time. It didn’t help that the man she ends up with at the end of the film is named Terrance, and he introduces himself as “Terrance. Well, Terry.” Ah, to dream. Also, look for early appearances of Gina Gershon, who plays one of the rich snobs in gym class, Kristy Swanson, who plays the girl at the dance interested in Duckie, and Kate Vernon, better known now as Ellen Tigh in Battlestar Galactica, who plays Steff’s girlfriend.

The soundtrack to Pretty in Pink is easily the best of the bunch. Its presence in 1986 changed the musical landscape, if not for the country, at least for me. The album spawned five singles, but that doesn’t tell the entire story by a long shot. The movie itself was named after the already existing Psychedelic Furs track, re-recorded for the film. Suzanne Vega teamed up with Joe Jackson to record “Left of Center.” New Order had one song on the soundtrack, but three in the film, including the instrumental version of “Thieves Like Us” and “Elegia,” two songs that are arguably better than “Shellshock,” the song that was chosen. The Smiths’ “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want” and Echo & the Bunnymen’s “Bring on the Dancing Horse” were hugely indicative of the sea change in music at the time, going from pure pop to intricate indie rock. But that’s not to say that pop didn’t have it’s place on Pretty in Pink. Danny Hutton’s cover of Nick Kershaw’s “Wouldn’t It Be Good” was a wonderful addition, and there’s no getting around the importance of OMD’s “If You Leave.” If one song could replace Spandau Ballet’s “True” as a school dance staple, this was it.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)

FBDO is probably the most quotable movie in John Hughes’ collection. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is a day in the life of the most popular kid in school, who decides to venture into Chicago for a day of fun and frolic away from his place of learning. The overall lesson of the film is summed up through Ferris’ words, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop to take a look around every once in a while, you’re gonna miss it.” Ferris is one of the few characters to go against Hughes’ normal archetypes. For one, he’s computer literate. In most films, this would classify him as a geek, but Ferris, without being an athlete or particularly rich (though his home is fairly palatial, but he doesn’t have a car), is popular, and popular to a nearly ridiculous degree. “The sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wasteoids, dweebies, dickheads, they all adore him. They think he’s a righteous dude.” And, he is. If nothing else, he cares about his friends, and he knows how to have a good time.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off has always been one of my favorite films to watch again and again. Matthew Broderick’s delivery, and asides to the camera, make this film something special to experience. Alan Ruck’s Cameron is lovable and pitiful at the same time. And then there’s the gorgeous Mia Sara. The only lesson here is that, despite being a teenager, you can escape from your troubles and enjoy what life has to offer. There is a bit of drama with parents, as there was in The Breakfast Club, and with siblings, as there was in nearly every Hughes movie, but they take a backseat to Ferris’ charm and his ability to foil the principal at every turn, like the Roadrunner with Wile E. Coyote. It should be noted that Ferris also marks the first time that Hughes didn’t cast either Molly Ringwald or Anthony Michael Hall.

I’ve already written extensively about the non-existent soundtrack album for Ferris Bueller, so I’ll just reference that here.

Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)

Yet another John Hughes movie based on a song title, Some Kind of Wonderful is Hughes’ attempt to rectify the studio forced ending of Pretty in Pink. This time the sexes are reversed as well, with the boy part, played by Eric Stoltz, being from the wrong side of the tracks, and slight twist in that Lea Thompson is also from the poor part of town, but she associates with the rich kids. Mary Stuart Masterson plays the Duckie role in this one as Watts, and is brilliant as well as tomboyishly hot. Besides Annie Potts in Pink, Watts is another of my crushes. All of the main characters in the film are somehow named after Rolling Stones references including Stoltz’s Keith, Masterson’s Watts, and Thompson’s Amanda Jones.

Although Some Kind of Wonderful was not nearly as popular as Pretty in Pink, I find the ending far more satisfying. The kiss that Keith and Watts share, as she is teaching him how to woo a woman, is electric. Masterson plays Watts wonderfully rude, sassy and incredibly vulnerable all at the same time. Keith’s and Amanda’s arcs are also well constructed, with Keith standing up to his father in order to make his own life decisions and Amanda learning to stand on her own two feet without worrying about her ‘friends’ or status. Just as with Pretty in Pink, however, the show is nearly stolen by side characters. Elias Koteas is incredible as Duncan, the skinhead who at first torments Keith and Watts, then becomes their most powerful ally. Craig Sheffer is second only to maybe William Zabka as one of the more memorable villain characters from the 80’s.

The soundtrack to the film also seems to take a backseat to Pretty in Pink, though it does have some memorable moments. Hardcore college rock fans will enjoy tracks by obscure artists Furniture, the Apartments and Blue Room, while songs by Pete Shelley and the Jesus & Mary Chain will have broader appeal. The March Violets’ cover of “Miss Amanda Jones” and Lick the Tins’ cover of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” are incredibly well done, adding completely new spins to the classics, and adding a bit of bubbly charm. But I’ll always remember the soundtrack for Flesh for Lulu’s “I Go Crazy,” which is repeated several times in the film.

She’s Having a Baby (1988)

Now, this movie is certainly different from the rest in that it is not a high school comedy. Instead, it’s as if we’re seeing what the future has in store for our teenage friends once they’ve graduated, gone to college and moved on. Kevin Bacon is Jake, and Eliabeth McGovern is Kristi, his wife. Jake wants to be a novelist, but in order to pay the mortgage on a three-bedroom house, he takes a job in an advertising firm. Jake and Kristi soon find that marriage and the pursuit of a perfect life in the suburbs isn’t what they expected. Jobs, family, friends, neighbors, a social life, temptations and surprises all rear their ugly heads and threaten their union. The biggest surprise comes when, as the title intimates, Kristi reveals she’s pregnant. Most of Hughes’ films have personal overtones, but this one shares so many parallels to Hughes’ own life that it’s tough not to see it as autobiography.

There is so much truth within She’s Having a Baby; it’s hard to pick out individual moments. The issues with the in-laws particularly struck home, as well as Jake’s mourning of his past single life. Despite the fact that it’s an adult comedy, there are a few cameos from former Hughes films including John Ashton (SKOW), Edie McClurg (Ferris), and Paul Gleason (TBC).

Music, as usual, plays a more than central role within She’s Having a Baby. After Pretty in Pink, I think that She’s Having a Baby is my favorite Hughes soundtrack. Dave Wakeling makes yet another appearance, this time singing the theme song for the film, yet not a particularly memorable one. The rest of the album, divided into ‘He’ and ‘She’ sides, makes up for it. Love and Rockets’ “Haunted When the Minutes Drag” and Gene Loves Jezebel’s “Desire (Come and Get It)” are perfect examples of the mindset of the ‘He.’ There are a few, as always, classics and throwbacks that provide humor and time references such as Sam Cooke’s “Chain Gang” and Boston’s “More Than a Feelin’”. The ‘She’ songs are the true stars of the album, as well as the covers present here. Bryan Ferry delivers with his cover of Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love,” while Kirsty MacColl adds some whimsy to the Smiths’ “You Just Haven’t Earned it Yet, Baby.” Even though the film is narrated by Jake, and centers around his thoughts and experiences, the best moments of She’s Having a Baby, including musically, deal with Kristi. Everything But the Girl’s “Apron Strings” and Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work” could bring to tears to your ears even without the movie’s associations, but put them together and you’re due for a good cry.

The last lines of She's Having a Baby speak volumes, and put a nice bookend on the 'growing up' chapters of Hughes' films, as Kevin Bacon delivers, very Beatles-like, "And in the end, I realized that I took more than I gave, I was trusted more than I trusted, and I was loved more than I loved. And what I was looking for was not to be found but to be made." Then Ferris Bueller's parents suggest the name Terrance during the end credits....they bought it.

This Is Not a Love Song

In the seventh grade, I had a crush on a girl. Yes, alert the presses, a hormonal teenager had the hots for someone. Just as predictable, I was incredibly awkward and had no clue as to the ways of courtship. My experience with girls up that point had only progressed to hand-holding, and I wasn’t even particularly good at that. Kissing was an absolutely foreign concept (as my first lip wrassling partner would find out a mere year later). But, I somehow did master the idea of the shared love song. I may not have been schooled in the ways of love, but I was a young music snob, and I did understand romantic conceit.

So, even without a tacit relationship with said girl, I did assign a song to our unspoken bond. It was Chicago’s “You’re the Inspiration,” and it was our jam. She just didn’t know it, just as she probably had no clue as to my very existence. Every time I heard that song, “our song,” I’d get wistful and dreamy. I wasn’t really into Chicago, however. At that time I was a big fan of Prince, Oingo Boingo, Depeche Mode, U2, Simple Minds and the Psychedelic Furs. Yet, somehow I grasped the concept of the shared love song being something altogether sappy and contextually appropriate. I got that “Darling Nikki,” “Little Girls,” and “Lie to Me” were not the best choices for pubescent romantic anthems. But I somehow glossed over “Two Hearts Beat as One,” “Speed Your Love to Me” and either “Heaven” or “The Ghost in You.” Something inside of me told me to choose a song that was so direct, so unambiguous as to avoid any misinterpretation. Plus, I figured that Peter Cetera’s non-threatening falsetto would make girls weak in the knees. It still does, albeit with laughter. So, Chicago it was.

I would get better at this over the years, though there is something altogether innocent and charming about that first song. And no, “You’re the Inspiration” wasn’t even a particularly good song, even back then. In fact, once my friends got wind of this, I was teased mercilessly. They even requested the song at the next school dance, jeering at me the entire time. I had my revenge, however. While they were catcalling, I was asked to dance by a cute redhead. Suck on that, non-romantic troglodytes!

My question is, if I could get that concept as a confused teenager, blinded by rampaging adolescent desires, why can’t anyone else? If I had a nickel for every badly chosen ‘shared love song,’ I’d have ‘killing people and getting away with it’ money. It’d be one thing if the songs’ lyrics were ambiguous, or at least halfway close to being romantic. For instance, the Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” is a popular favorite. The first two verses alone would make this a credible option, but the last verse reads like an Ovid-like myth. Ummm, the sea stole your girl and drowned her inside of you? Okay, Orpheus, dramatic much?

No, I’m less concerned about the flowery and obtuse. What I am concerned with is the number of songs that outright defy the basic concepts of love, and yet, are still amongst the more popular ‘love songs.’ Hell, as my brother alluded to in his Wedding Songs feature, some of them are even bastardized in the name of holy matrimony. This madness has to end!

One of the more famously misinterpreted songs is the Police’s “Every Breath You Take.” On the surface, the song is a delicate ballad made only the more romantic by Sting’s signature sandpapery voice. Within the lyrics, however, hides (and not very furtively) an obsessive stalker. The girl in question has left our sad little lute-playing Englishman, and he just can’t let go. In fact, his words read like the handwritten letter of a man on the edge, one who will most likely plan an elaborate murder / suicide. It’s one of those “If I can’t have you, no one else will” scenarios. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on here. In fact, once a song hints at possession, i.e. “You belong to me,” it’s time to nix that track and move on. Hell, even the standard with that title by Dean Martin, Patsy Cline, Bob Dylan and about 800 others seems creepy by today’s standards.

R.E.M.’s “The One I Love” is another one that most people commonly get wrong. Everyday listeners just can’t seem to get past the first line of ”This one goes out to the one I love.” If they did, they’d get to the part that not only identifies the ‘one’ in question as being ‘left behind,’ and I don’t mean in a ridiculous rapture kind of way, though that song might be hilarious, but then also identifies that ‘one’ as a ”simple prop to occupy my time.” “The One I Love” is a song about using someone, or even multiple someones. Michael Stipe even described the song as being “incredibly violent.” So, stop using it as a love song! Sheesh.

For some reason, breakup songs are the most misinterpreted. Generally these sad and woeful tales are told from the point of view of the dumped, so naturally, there’s an inherent element of regret and thus romantic overtures are made. But, people keep missing the part where it’s O-V-E-R, pick up yo face and get to the bar. (Sorry, that didn’t have quite the same ring to it as ‘U-G-L-Y, you ain’t got no alibi,’ but give me some credit points, at least). Dolly and Whitney’s “I Will Always Love You,” Phil Collins’ “Against All Odds,” The Eagles’ “Best of My Love,” and the Cardigans’ “Lovefool” are all extraordinarily misguided ways people have chosen to express their love on mixtapes. The savvier recipient will wonder whether they’re being wooed or being jilted before anything has even begun. While we’re on this topic, almost any country song would be a bad choice as most traditional country songs ARE breakup songs. Ditto anything by Fleetwood Mac from 1975-1987.

(One more aside) Also, can anyone explain to me why Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” is constantly used in ironic contexts? I’ve heard it used many times for graduations, proms, etc. Heck, I even heard it played in a baseball stadium after the last game of the season. It’s a break-up song! It’s about moving on from something depressing and horrible. Oh wait, maybe it does make sense for high school and last year’s Mariners season. Zing! Not to have too many asides, but this also brings up my pet peeve of people getting song titles wrong. The proper song title is “Good Riddance” with the parenthetical “Time of Your Life” attached. (I don’t care what the single has printed on it). And, by the way, all you creepy gothy unwashed Charmed fans, it’s called “How Soon Is Now,” not “I Am Human.” Yeesh.

Even when songs seem tailor made for that special mixtape, they might not be. Specifically, avoid those songs that actually share the same name as your girl. Kiss’ “Beth” may sound sappy and emotional, especially as it is played like a ballad, but it’s apparently about how Peter Criss’ bandmate’s girlfriend was a huge nag and would always interrupt rehearsals. Essentially, the song is less a love song and more of a sarcastic ‘get off my bro’s back’ kind of song. Avoiding “Alison” is also recommended. Elvis Costello has notoriously never revealed the meaning of the lyrics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure that this is a song that is massively filled with regret. I suppose if your name is Sheena, everything’s hunky dory.

Of course, it’s fairly easy for me to say all this now. I’ve made my own mistakes with love songs in the past. Sure, I claimed to have it all together in seventh grade regarding that special shared song, but what I didn’t tell you how I flubbed it nearly every time out after that. The very next year, when I got together with my aforementioned ‘first lip wrasslin’ partner’, John Hughes soundtracks were all the rage. (Oh, by the way, memo to Wikipedia, when I’m trying to look up John Hughes, I really don’t think the Catholic archbishop from 1797-1864 ranks high on anyone’s list of preferences). Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science and Pretty in Pink had all been released with the latter being a massive touchstone in many adolescents’ musical pasts. (Oddly, a soundtrack never came out for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off). As such, my friends and I were really into OMD, and their recent album, Crush. For the first relationship in which I employed the art of French Kissing, I chose their song, “Hold You.” Because of the ballad-y nature of the song, the title, a sense of longing, and the frequent use of typical ‘love song’ words, I thought it the perfect choice. However, on closer inspection, vocalist Paul Humphreys refers to the girl in question as a ‘foolish child,’ and the girl is actually with another guy! It’s a song of jealousy, and the singer only wanting her because he can’t have her! Oh, what was I thinking? Naturally, the song became prophetic as I was unceremoniously dumped and she started a relationship with a guy from another school.

There would be many instances of getting these songs wrong as time went on. In some instances, it had nothing to do with the original intention of the singer. Huh? Once, I was on the receiving end of a mixtape that included Kate Bush’s “The Man With the Child in His Eyes.” Kate Bush wrote the song when she was only thirteen. As such, it’s filled with wonder and awe, told from the point of view of a girl dreaming about an idealized lover. But, to be fair, it’s had many interpretations. What I had forgotten, or repressed until now, was that my girlfriend at the time had an obsession with Peter Pan. What I had also forgotten was that I was a virgin before I met her and that I was specifically introduced to a girl who was ‘experienced,’ once my friends learned of my action-figure like state of ‘unopened package.’ In giving me this song, she was basically emasculating me while giving into her own indulgences of ‘educating a “Lost Boy.”’ Now, where did I leave my therapist’s phone number? Sigh.

I would later inadvertently make an altogether different mistake on a mix CD I would compile for a later girlfriend. I knew the girl liked Tori Amos. She had practically every release by her and I found that I had one rare song taped for a benefit by a radio station in L.A. that she didn’t have. The song was “Icicle,” and in my defense, I had no idea it was about masturbation. Yikes. That’s not exactly the type of song with which you want to woo your fair maiden. I don’t know what happened. This is what usually becomes of poor research. I’m usually so good with that! I knew all about “She Bop,” “Blister in the Sun,” “Pictures of Lily” and “Turning Japanese,” how did I miss this one? I guess I had not ever tapped that other vein. Maybe someday I’ll take another whack at it. All these mistakes! I’m so sick of pulling these boners.

In the end, I guess it can happen to anyone. The lesson is, research, research, and research. Use context clues! Don’t forget what you were taught for your SAT’s! Words are tricky; they can mean practically anything! That song you may think is a love song is not. (Though P.I.L.’s “This is Not a Love Song” has some hilarious innuendo at the end). Though, there is something to be said for the bliss of ignorance. Just ask my buddy Dan, who informed me that Van Morrison’s classic hit, “Brown Eyed Girl” is about anal sex. Now, every time I hear that song, I giggle like an idiot.

Treblezine: Underrated Blog-a-Thon Late Entry

At this point, I’ve not only abandoned my blog for nearly three months, I’ve also missed the deadline for my friend Jamie’s “Underrated Blog-a-Thon.” But, I was so intrigued by the idea, I just couldn’t resist. At first, I could not choose my subject. I write about music on a regular basis, having already championed many underrated albums. Almost every book I truly love could be considered underrated, and I couldn’t decide on any one film. So, I thought I’d try to look elsewhere. Maybe I could write about an underrated baseball player. But, other than giving some stats, a personal anecdote or two, and merely saying they’re underrated, I had nothing. But then it came to me.

In the brainstorming process of all things ‘underrated,’ I tried to recall the things I truly regret not having reached a wider audience. In doing so, I realized there was only one subject I could choose. Treblezine. Self serving? Sure. A little egomaniacal? Maybe, but not really. I realize that a lot of you may have no idea what I’m talking about, so I’ll start with a little background history.

Over five years ago, the fall of 2003 to be slightly more precise, my youngest brother, Jeff, called me. He was in San Diego and I had just moved to Seattle. Jeff had just graduated from San Diego State, where he was the entertainment editor for the Daily Aztec newspaper, and now out of school, wanted to embark on a new endeavor. On the phone, he asked me if I wanted to start an online music magazine. There was no hesitation. I was in. I, myself, had been looking for a writing outlet, and was still obsessed by new music. There was no way I could say no. But what began that fall has been a journey I wouldn’t trade for anything.

We seemingly knew exactly what we wanted for Treblezine from the very beginning. (Let me just insert here that Jeff is the true talent behind Treble. It was his brainchild. He is the managing editor. He writes the lion’s share of the reviews. He organizes the submissions for review, the writing assignments and practically everything else. There are a few things I can point to as mine, namely specific columns and features I created, but for the most part, when I say ‘we’ when talking about Treble, I’m mostly talking about Jeff. I thought you ought to know. I should also at this point give many many thanks to Matt, yet another Terich brother, who designed the site and made it so darn pretty and user friendly.)

We knew we wanted the standard format of posting daily reviews. We knew it wasn’t a blog, like this one, but instead an actual commercial magazine to be taken seriously in critical circles and in the marketplace. In fact, you may be surprised to know that Jeff’s original concept was to eventually turn the webzine into a print magazine. We knew we wanted to do regular features and columns, items that would keep loyal readers coming back. Those have certainly changed along the way, some have stayed, and we’ve introduced some that have since become favorites, but the concept was solid from the beginning. To me, and I think I speak for Jeff as well, the most important aspects of Treblezine were the writing and the lack of number ratings.

There is no denying that Pitchfork is the grandfather of all indie music webzines. But, I think the biggest reason for their early success is not necessarily that they were the best, it’s that they were the first. The same can be said for a lot of internet enterprises such as Amazon and eBay. The resulting pressures of staying on top, with the addition of sudden income with which to fund the process, tend to fuel further progress. And thus, Pitchfork has produced some amazing writers over the years. The shame of it all is that thousands upon thousands of Pitchfork’s ‘loyal readers’ do quick hit and runs on the album reviews, merely looking at the number rating and then abruptly leaving. Jeff and I found that absurd. First of all, number ratings are completely arbitrary. (And I must say at this point that I’ve already addressed this concept in a review for Tetuzi Akiyama’s Pre-Existence, which was subsequently used for Treble’s “About” page.) So, I won’t go into the absurdity of comparing a Jay-Z album with, say, a Nick Cave album, which inadvertently happens when you give each a specific number rating. Anyway, the other idea behind the lack of number rating was that we wanted to avoid the hit and run. We wanted people to actually read what we had spent a good deal of time writing. After all, when you’re trying to find more about a particular album of interest, would you rather read or hear an in-depth analysis, including comparisons, impressions, and personal anecdotes, or would you rather simply see that it was given a 7.2?

I’m selfishly calling Treble ‘underrated’ because of our traffic in relation to other sites of this ilk. A lot of this is our own fault. None of us are marketing geniuses. We don’t know how better to reach indie music fans. We’ve made tremendous strides over the five plus years of Treble’s existence. In fact, we’ve had readers all over the world. We’ve had strong growth in readership. We’ve also found a great deal of our wonderful writers by simply existing. Jeff and I put a lot into Treblezine. (Emphasis on the Jeff). We put our hearts and souls into it. We make no money from Treble. Sure, we have great partnerships with Insound, iTunes and we at last have some advertisers, but I’d venture to say that the income from said sources doesn’t even cover the costs of site hosting and the postage it takes to mail CD’s to our writers all over the world. We’d love it if more people read it, for sure. We’d really love to make a living doing this. However, regardless of our numbers, and regardless of a lack of profit, we continue to create Treble. Why? Because we have a passion for music that cannot be contained. Music fuels us. And I’d like to think that it shows in our writing.

After five years, you’d think that maybe we’d become jaded about the music industry. There is certainly an element of that in our lives. But I won’t turn this into a diatribe on the industry. I’ll simply say that music has overwhelming capacity to astonish. No matter how many derivative albums we might hear in succession, there is always a brilliant light at the end of the tunnel, and that light is so overwhelming, we don’t even care if it’s a train. Case in point, the new Decemberists album.

But, to get back on track, this is a plea. If you love music, or have a friend who loves music, we simply ask that you tell them about our site. We’re quite proud of it. We feel that the past five years have only made it better. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what we could do with it if we could work on it full time. Ah, perchance to dream.

The Joy (and Pain) of Fardo

It is not, as some might guess, the name of a hobbit. Nor is it the given title of a piece of Ikea furniture. In fact, most of you have probably witnessed it in your everyday lives. And still more of you probably tune in to watch it on television every week. What am I talking about? I’m talking about fardo. Fardo is a fairly recent term that represents the feeling of extreme discomfort and embarrassment for those who do not experience those feelings for themselves. It’s amazing that there’s even a word for this awkward feeling. I am reminded of when I heard the term schadenfreude (the feeling of joy at the expense of another’s pain). Yet, as uncomfortable as fardo sounds, it is big business in comedy.

The most obvious examples of fardo exist in Seinfeld. It’s most definitely not the start of fardo, it just maximized its effect. Every single one of the four cast members was amazingly oblivious to his or her foibles. Every once in a blue moon they would realize how deep a hole they had dug, but it still wouldn’t stop them from shoveling extra dirt over their heads. I was never a big fan of Seinfeld. Sure, it would occasionally make me laugh, and had some good comedic premises, but I would just become infuriated with the characters and their horrific choices, especially George. This is also why I couldn’t stand Meet the Parents, even though I normally find Ben Stiller quite funny. It was a film that was a series of several bad choices, one after the other.

Despite my dislike of fardo, there is one instance in which I find myself drawn like moth to flame. The Office features one of the most blatant inciters of fardo ever in Michael Scott. I love watching The Office. In fact, I’ve rewatched the entire four and a half seasons multiple times. And yet, there are episodes so loaded with fardo that I find myself cringing. Sometimes, Michael Scott’s ineptitude, bluntness and low self-esteem make for very funny situations, but sometimes it’s just plain painful. One example is the Christmas episode, “Christmas Party,” in which Michael exceeds the Secret Santa dollar limit to impress Ryan, then gets vocally upset over his gift from Phyllis, a homemade potholder, resulting in his choice to institute ‘Yankee Swap,’ in which everyone gets to steal each others’ gifts. He makes a disaster of the whole thing, even ending up personally dissatisfied at the results, and seems completely unaware of the hurt feelings of others.

So, you can see that I’m conflicted over the idea of fardo. The character of Dwight is also usually in the dark about his own ridiculousness, but he is such a caricature that it’s easier to handle. He also has no real power and thus his mistakes are somewhat neutralized. However, Michael Scott, in a position of management over every other character, can often make me, as a viewer, quite uncomfortable, recalling my own experiences with inept management. Many viewers of the Office most likely identify with the real life parallels of their own work experiences, but in reality, these situations are not funny, they are incredibly frustrating and often damaging. So, on one hand, it’s therapeutic to be able to laugh at this kind of zaniness, but on the other, it can be painful to relive these situations. There is only one instance I can think of in which a character actually acts in an expected manner with Michael Scott, and that’s when Stanley loses it with Michael in the episode, “Did I Stutter?” Everyone else, including the HR representative, who would have probably had Michael fired years ago in real life, and his direct supervisors, seem to just let things go with uncomfortable stares and stammers, and there is never any real consequence. Hell, there’s even a blog created by an actual Human Resources employee, who writes about the events in the show, and how Michael’s actions would get him into trouble again and again.

The above might be taking it too far. It is, after all, just a comedic television show. It’s supposed to be over the top and exaggerated, thus the funny. But The Office can alternately make me laugh out loud and cringe. I don’t know if I can explain why I find some fardo unfunny and unwatchable (i.e. Seinfeld) and some hilarious (i.e The Office), but embarrassment and humor is a delicate balance. Maybe it’s the likeability of Steve Carell. Then again, maybe I’m not meant to understand. Maybe I should just lie back and enjoy it. That’s what she said.