City Called Las Cruces

Exhausted, yes.  But also energized by the taste of red chile enchiladas, sight of fuschia Crepe Myrtle, cacophonous sound of the practice hall, arid feel of desert sunshine, and the unmistakeable smell of the choir room.  And strangely nostalgic for all that heartache associated with my struggle to finish a music degree.

After years of cutting my jazz teeth on Chicago stages, I was invited back to New Mexico State University for the Jack Ward Invitational Choral Festival last weekend.  I remember my junior year of high school, my Concert Chorale was invited way back in 19--- er, in the 90's, and the excitement of sharing the stage with real college music students.  At that time of my life, I didn't plan on going on to study music.  I guess I eventually came around. 

Every year during music school, we did this festival.  Invitees were NMSU Choir alumni with successful careers in opera or education.  Although I tried my hand at both, I rested assured that I would never be invited back for either discipline.  The genesis of this invitation was actually a newspaper article about my knitting.  My university choir director, Dr. Alt read between the lines, and recognized that in addition to knitting up a storm and becoming a marketing maven in Chicago, I was also still performing.  We chatted on email and she invited me to do the concert.  We focused on gospel selections, including my favorite song to sing, Josephine Poelinlitz's arrangement of City Called Heaven.  Both the Deming High School Choir and NMSU Choirs were outstanding in their performances, and all came together for the gospel tunes.  There are no words to describe what it is like to sing that song with a strong choir of 100 behind you.  Religious or not, you're gonna feel the spirit.  As an encore, my university voice instructor Chris Sanders, and my dear friend Della Bustamante joined me onstage for our rendition of Bridge Over Troubled Water/This Little Light of Mine.  To be found on the stage with those two ladies, the greatest talents I know--I'm starstruck and the luckiest girl in the world to collaborate with them. 

I was truly honored to be invited back to my alma mater, give some lessons, and hopefully impart some knowledge to high school and college music students.  Thank you Dr. Alt and NMSU Choirs for having me.  True to my rebellious fashion, I will not include recordings, or even pictures of  the show, but a recipe from my reception.  Enjoy!

Carrot Ginger Soup

Soup:
4 lbs carrots, diced

1 large sweet onion, diced

4-6 cups vegan bouillion ("Better Than Bouillion" is best)
1/3 c. grated ginger
3 Tbsp Olive Oil
Salt and pepper to taste


Yogurt:
1 c. plain Greek yogurt
1 Tbsp. honey
5 sprigs of thyme, chopped
Optional sunflower or pumpkin seeds to garnish

(The yogurt is best when made 24 hours before serving) Add thyme and honey to yogurt, mix thoroughly, and refrigerate overnight.

Sweat onion in a large stockpot with olive oil, until translucent. Add carrots, ginger, and bouillion. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 40 minutes, or until carrots are soft. Puree soup with an immersion blender. Return to stockpot and warm over low heat.

Serve soup with a schmear of yogurt and a sprinkle of seeds, and impress the heck out of your guests!

We We Love Love Davy Davy

I met Davy. 

I've been waiting for this day since I was 9.  I fantasized that the Monkeemobile would break down in my neighborhood, and the boys from Malibu would knock on my door for help.  I would be able to make them grilled cheese sandwiches while they waited for a mechanic.  Back then, I couldn't listen to More of the Monkees with anyone else in the room.  It was an intensely personal moment when Davy whispered the girls' names in Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow).   I was pretty sure he was singing to me.  Their car never broke down on Mackland Avenue, but when I won three tickets to see Davy last weekend, I figured fate was finally on my side.

During the concert, he did a couple songs that surprised me, including Papa Gene's Blues (a Mike song) and No Time (SUCH a Micky song), and they were both wonderful. Oh, and he started the show with about 20 minutes of only moderately funny, Don Rickles-y offensive humor. I don't want to be too critical when we had free seats, but he really could've started with a song. One of my concert buddies moaned, "Boooo-ring" during his awful spiel. She's 10 years old, so she gets a pass.  Honestly, the girl made a glittered sign, and deserved to hear Valleri!  Her mom dutifully covered her eyes when Davy unbuttoned his shirt and did a spicy hip-bump to "The Stripper." This little trouper, out way past her bedtime, was the sole reason we got backstage to see Mr. Jones.

As Davy strutted out to an instrumental Daddy's Song, I deferred to Michele, who is a world-class concert veteran, and autograph-getter.  My mouth said, "I'm following you."  My 9-year-old heart was saying, "Oh please oh please help me figure out how to meet Davy, oh master of fandom!" We waited.  And waited.  And just when it seemed like they weren't going to let us backstage, the owner of the club noticed our 10-year old partner in crime.  It was like a scene out of Paper Moon.  She was just about to fall asleep, holding her little sign reading, "We WE Love LOVE Davy DAVY."  Suddenly energized, we trotted downstairs and entered his room.

The thing that struck me was that his eyes looked a lot lighter in person. And I was too scared to talk to him or shake his hand. So I let my friends do that for me. I manned the camera while they said cheese. He was obviously tired after his show, which had no air conditioning. He stayed extra long for all his diehards to come through his dressing room, so I didn't want to start blubbering and freak him out.

If this inspires you to spin some Monkees discs, here are a couple of my favorite dark horses:  Someday Man from Instant Replay, and Long Way Home from Pool It!.  So, that's one checkmark off the bucket list. My next target is Micky, for sure. Hopefully I'm not as sweaty when I meet him.

If I Knew Then

Bret Michaels has been on my mind, like many others from my generation.  A couple things before I get sappy:  Never was there a prettier boy in glam rock.  Bret was the absolute apex.  I wanted lip gloss like his.  He was so beautiful, I forced myself to focus on the more attainable drummer, Rikki Rockett.  Facing the Bret fantasy was too much for my adolescent, Aqua-Netted heart.  There was plenty of room on my walls, but I taped up a Poison poster in my closet because I couldn't deal with Bret's image in my actual bedroom.  When Open Up and Say... Ahh! dropped, I got the early unedited cassette jacket, because I was such a devoted and speedy fan. 

Watching the late showing of Oprah last night, I couldn't have been the only one who got misty as oh-so-composed Raine verbalized her feelings about her rocker dad's mortality.  She's obviously a well-adjusted kid, accustomed to medical issues with Bret's diabetes.  Then I stepped back and thought about what a hot mess his family life must be.  Oprah rolls the montage of his girlfriend, their two kids together, then clips from this Rock of Love slut-fest.  Sidebar: I have very little interest in reality television, and I don't have VH-1, so I basically live in a  make-believe world where the show never existed.  And how real is it, really, if he goes home to his family at the end of the day?  I'm probably getting into fan territory I'm unequipped to respond to, so be gentle.  Anyway, this montage showed me the life of a rock star in the truest sense.  Bret has made the choice to live life on is terms, despite health and lipgloss issues. 

I've listened to Look What The Cat Dragged In about seven times on my Grooveshark playlist.  Hearing I Won't Forget You drummed up memories of my bad choices in music, hair, and clothing.  To be honest, though, I didn't go too far over the line as far as being an obnoxious teen.  There are things I could've done that wouldn't have killed me, wouldn't have ruined my chances at a career.  In fact, a few different choices might have made my tween photo albums a little more interesting.  I wanted action.  I cried tough.  For Bret, and his rock star lifestyle, I dedicate a list of...

8 Rock Star Things I Should've Done in School, But Didn't

• Lied about not having a chaperone, and gone to the Pearl Jam show with Julie.
• Dyed my hair Cookie Monster Blue.
• Smoked pot with the first guy who offered it to me (I won't name names, but I totally shamed him when he offered, and have felt badly ever since).
• Sung House of the Rising Sun a little more gnarly at the guitar concert sophomore year.
• Skipped out on my paper route for a day to participate in the spelling bee in 7th grade (I know, dorky on dorkier.  But I thought I had a future in hurling newspapers, and didn't want to risk it for some silly potential scholarship).
• Would've replied, "je m'en fou" when my guidance counselor told me she didn't think I'd benefit from taking French IV class. 
• Turned in my application to the quirky Beeps gift shop in Nob Hill.  Their application was a one-page Xerox copy framed with funky clip art, and after filling out the necessary info, I colored the whole thing with crayons. Then I had second thoughts and threw it away.  Looking back, not only would they have hired me, they probably would have made me a manager.  
• Made some effort at improvising.  My guitar teacher tried to give me the tools, but I was too scared to make a mistake in front of the class.  And my whole musical career has followed that same path. 

I would've made a top ten list, but I could only come up with eight regrets.  I suppose it's fortunate to have only a few.  I hope Bret is all better soon, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for The Apprentice final, and I'm going to order hard copies of my two fave Poison albums today.

My Plagiarized Article From The Chicago Sun Times

Hooking is a way of life for North Sider

May 3, 2010

BY MARK J. KONKOL Staff Reporter

Bree Gordon is a hooker. She even has a hooker alias -- Crafty McSchnafty.

"I'm a hooker with a lot of experience," Gordon says with a sly smile, over coffee in Uptown. "My mother named me after the classy call girl in the movie "Klute." So, really, I was born for this."

Bree Gordon is a crocheting craftswoman who is part of a social knitting circle at Mother's on Division. She also fronts a Ukrainian wedding band.

Gordon says her husband doesn't mind. In fact, he's very supportive -- after all her hooking brings in a little extra cash.

Wednesday nights, you'll find Gordon working the room at Mother's on Division with a bunch of other hookers. They drink beer and listening to rap music while they go about their hooking -- crocheting (and knitting), that is -- during the singles bar's weekly knitting circle dubbed "Stick 'n' Bitch."

While other kids were learning the trick to downing a beer bong in one gulp at New Mexico State University, a nerdy friend was teaching Gordon how to crochet. A perfectionist, Gordon quickly fell in love with the exactness of the yarn work.

"I find it's like architecture, building a structure," she says. "I like the math and perfection of it. Every time I knit self-striping socks to look identical, I do a little happy dance."

But it wasn't until her husband had a serious health scare a few years back that she really got, well, hooked on it.

"He was in the hospital for a month, and I had hours and hours sitting there to either go crazy or do something," she says. "I knitted 300 scarves. My husband didn't have insurance, so I raised a little bit of money selling those scarves. I sold all of them."

Her husband recovered after a kidney transplant. And Gordon, who lives in Edgewater, took her yarn work to the next level. She graduated from rectangular blankets and scarves to hats and leg warmers. A while back, she put together her first bikini.

And she has recently come up with a new knitted concoction she calls the "fruit suit." It's a yarn button-up wrap for the brown-bag lunch set aimed at protecting fruit from getting bruised. Plus, Gordon says, the fruit suit will ripen a green banana overnight.

"It's really ridiculous," Gordon says. "But I got the idea from my always-serious friend who, after she had a couple glasses of wine, said, 'I want you to knit a sweater from my banana. But make it look just like my banana.' She cracked herself up. A couple days later, I had one for her. She was giddy."

Now, Gordon knits fruit suits for apples, bananas, oranges, peaches and pears and sells them for $12 apiece on her website, craftymcschnafty .com.

A secretary by day, Gordon says she hopes that one day all this hooking and needling might become a successful business.

If not, she's still chasing the dream that lead her to Chicago in the first place -- to sing the blues. She fronts a Ukrainian wedding band called Rendezvous.

"I don't know the traditional songs, but in the second set, I sing some Donna Summer, Lady GaGa. I'll sing anything. I'm a stage hound."

Finally Got My Wings

Last night I shared the stage with one of the coolest bands in the city, The Honeybees.  A last-minute benefit left them without a backup singer, and since I knew a few songs from my audition last year, the lead singer, Barb, hit me with an email.  If it'd been more than a half-hour gig, I would've been a little nervous, but still wouldn't have passed this chance.  

After a full day of the ol' day job, and my big debut as a designer in a fashion/art studio opening in Pilsen, I made my way to the Cobra Lounge for this half-hour rockabilly set.  Long day.   Barb had told me it was a punk bar, and asked if I had something punk/retro to wear.  Aside from black nail polish, I'm about as un-punk as they come, so I went full retro with pearls and a French twist.  When I walked into the Cobra Lounge, my teeny tattoos dropped to their knees and worshipped at this altar of full sleeves and teardrops.  My happy harmonizer vocal cords quaked with every gutteral screech from the preceding thrash band.  But I felt 100% comfortable.  The patrons were friendly, and the sound guy even let me place my Flip Video Cam on his plexiglass (possibly bulletproof) partition.  "Cheat" is my favorite song from their catalogue, and I have a big fat role in the vocals, so check it out.  

The sweet set of Honeybees songs we performed may not have broken any glass, but when we sang "Be My Baby," I spied a dude tattooed up to his neck, smiling and bobbing his head like a schoolgirl.  At the close of the show, Barb handed me a bracelet in thanks.  Her friend in Las Vegas crafts these handstrung bangles with alphabet beads.  Mine reads "Boozer."

Thanks for a great night, Honeybees!!

Silent House

I bit off more than I could chew this year. As a dedicated crafter, I feel guilty shopping for gifts. Before you roll your eyes, I don't crochet neon orange plant hangers for my family. I attempt to make useful, memorable, unisex gifts. Primarily a knitter, it takes a great deal of ingenuity and timing to knit items that will be useful to the family members who live in warm climates. Strangely enough, the weather was perfect for the pair of socks most people got this year. I became a sock machine over the summer, and with two people left on my list, I decided I was ready to take over the mysterious family heirloom stocking.

Since the 1940's, ostensibly, my great aunt knitted a new Christmas stocking for every member of the family. The stockings are identical, except for the back. Each person gets an embroidered line from 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, starting with the father, followed my the mom, first born, and so on. When a baby was born, or a marriage took place, you knew a stocking was in the making. They were mostly perfect, but there were little handmade variations. My brother's was slightly smaller than the rest of the family's, and our dad's had a calf panel of red that didn't quite match the rest. My great aunt passed away about 15 years ago, and with her went the secret of the stocking. How I wish my childhood self had been more inclined to sit with her and my grandmother and learn the art of conjuring a garment from single strand of yarn. When I become critical of my own creations, I try to remember how much our family loves their stockings, despite their imperfections.

Years ago, during my first knitting lesson, I asked my teacher if she could help me map out this stocking. She told me it was a little early, but when I was ready, she'd be happy to help. That was 2006, and these days I can follow a pattern pretty well on my own, so I borrowed one of the stockings from my mom, and took a look. I was lost. There was all this intarsia, and I didn't feel confident about it. Rather than just ask for help, I stubbornly studied articles and videos, and experienced some major trial and error. I knew I could follow a pattern, but how to find it? A Google image search of "Christmas stocking" amazingly lead me to a picture of our family heirloom. I contacted the creator, and begged for her charity. She generously handed over the pattern after I described my situation. More weeks of blunders and frustration, but I refused to ask for help. Looking back, I think I wanted to keep this project in the family. This ability was in my blood, I just had to tap into it. Somehow, I got through that first panel. Then the next. The final was easiest of all. All I needed was the embroidery, and to weave in the loose ends. The stocking was done.

I just sat there looking at it. I hung it up on my bookshelf, right next to the old stocking I'd used as a model, like clones. I wanted to show someone. I wanted my great aunt and my grandmother to see it. I wanted them to turn the stocking inside out and run their fingers over the woven ends. I wanted them to see that they'd finally passed the torch, and I could take it from here. There's a song called Silent House by the Dixie Chicks about a family member slipping into Alzheimer's Disease. A little heavy, I know, but the lyrics played in my mind, "Everything that you made by hand; Everything that you know by heart; And I will try to connect; All the pieces you left; I will carry it on; And let you forget." I'd never felt such relief, completion, or emotion over a single knitting project. Hours before, Marky had fallen asleep on the couch next to me. But I woke him to show him my masterpiece. He sat with me, staring at the 25-year-old prototype and the 25-minute-old creation. Then he patted my knee, and told me it was time for bed. I finished the stocking late in the evening, the last day of November.

The next morning, my mom called to tell me that my grandmother had passed away. Most of the family got to visit Grammie during Thanksgiving. The general consensus was that she held on long enough to say goodbye to everyone. I think a little part of her stuck around to see my stocking finished.

Na na na na, hey hey hey...

Just yesterday I heard that Ken Ober passed away. I immediately texted my brother. He shared in my shock, and his memory of Ken is the same as mine. After school, before our parents came home to turn on the 24-hour news channel, we watched our version of the news: MTV. Chris was wrapping newspapers for his route, and I was puffy painting my canvas shoes/jean jacket. There were nonstop music videos all day, all night, but in 1987 MTV tried something new. An original game show called Remote Control. We wanted to be on that show. Either that or Double Dare. The quiz show was set in the basement of host Ken Ober, a pop culture know-it-all. Along with La-Z-Boy recliners, TV trays, a washer machine and a huge television set, we saw for the first time, Colin Quinn, Adam Sandler, Denis Leary, and Kari Wuhrer (if you didn't want to date her, you probably wanted to be her). My intense desire to be a contestant on Remote Control is probably the reason I have such a huge database of rock trivia stashed away in my cranium. I'm still gearing up for my turn in at naming the artist and song in the 9 screens in 30 seconds, or to Sing Along With Colin.

More than just a game, RC also had a ton of zany comedy bits, a keyboardist who musically accentuated every moment with his Casio, audience participation, and a snack break. Gosh, the 80's were just such a colorful, weird time. You might look at his high-waisted Z Cavaricci jeans and L.A. Gear tennies and think Ken Ober an 80's fashion plate. But he was just the everyman, spitting out lightning round questions, restraining Colin, and respectfully dismissing contestants who couldn't keep up.

I have two favorite memories of the show. Once, Ken asked the contestants to finish the line "Way-oh, way-oh, ay-oh, way-oh," à la Bangles singer Susannah Hoffs.

When a contestant answered in a beautiful singing voice, "Walk like an Egyptian," Ken paused, considered the response, and then didn't award her the points because she didn't blink and look around with googly eyes while singing.

My other favorite moment was when Ken broke up a rolling-on-the-ground fistfight between Colin and his little brother (Denis Leary) by saying, "Guys! Guys! Guys! Uh... I got a potato." It was funny then, but I didn't really understand how funny until I married an Irish guy.

Remote Control is certainly one of the reasons MTV started to suck so much in the 90's. But it was such a fun way to spend a half hour as a tween. It's hard to believe that was 22 years ago. I can't say I really kept up on Ken Ober's projects after Remote Control, but he was definitely too young to die. I feel more than a little sad and nostalgic for the hours I spent watching him on MTV.

For The Love of Concerts

It was tough, but I pulled the memories of 50 concerts I've seen. I guess I don't go to enough concerts, because I had to dig pretty deep to get this list together. Lists tend to bore me a little unless there is a nugget of information included. I will list 50 concerts and a fact about each. And I tried my best to list the order in which I saw them.

1. Ronnie Milsap - I was about four. Mom says I fell asleep and Ronnie Milsap kissed me on the forehead at the end of the concert.

2. Cyndi Lauper - Saw her once when I was 8, once when I was 28, and once again at 31.

3. Huey Lewis - 5th grade. I screamed so loud, the guy next to us plugged his ear.

4. Faith No More - 9th grade, Mike Patton suggested the audience "Jerk. Off. To. The beat," and my stepfather was horrified.

5. Robert Plant - Same concert as above. I had absolutely no appreciation for the rock royalty I was witnessing.

6. Nelson - Had tickets, but the show got cancelled. I was so ready for this concert, I feel like I saw it.

7. Deep Blue Something - College. I had a broken foot, and wanted so badly to go see them sing "Breakfast at Tiffany's." I started to limp out after that song, as did several other audience members. DBS turned the lights on and reprimanded the exiters, calling us Hootie and the Blowfish fans.

8. Robert Earl Keen - Age 19, at a 21 and up concert in a small bar in Santa Fe. Stepdad had to sign a waiver, but ordered me a rum and coke when we got to the table.

9. Eagles - Again, had tickets, but concert was cancelled. When the Eagles rescheduled months later, I listened to the show on the grassy field outside the NMSU football field.

10. Ian Moore - Opening act for the following two. They were out of tune, but I still love them.

11. Bryan Adams - Honestly, one of the tightest bands I've ever seen. Surprisingly, when Bryan sang, "Got my first real six string---------" very few people in the audience could finish the line for him.

12. Rolling Stones - And finally, the headliner. This was the VooDoo Lounge tour, and it was great, but I was really unfamiliar with their music before this.

13. Harry Connick, Jr. - Harry invited a male audience member to dance on the stage with him. The crowd went crazy, and Harry decided to let about 20 other people up there, too.

14. The Monkees - Mom took me to see them in Las Vegas, where I got an autographed novelette signed by Micky, Davy, and Peter. Then I saw them again in Las Cruces, when they performed for the Miss Teen USA Pageant.

15. Brian Setzer at Conan O'Brien taping - In line for Conan in 1996, we overheard that there was a former member of "Cats" on the list. When we sat down to watch, much to my surprise, I saw an obscenely plaid jacket backstage. I knew at that moment, we had heard the tail end of a rumor gone wrong.

16. Davy Jones/Bobby Sherman - Diablo stadium. I touched Davy's hand.

17. Fleetwood Mac - 1997, Houston, with my brother. Chris scored the tickets secondhand by telling a guy that his little sister played "Landslide."

18. Willie Nelson - Sandia Casino with Mom. He played EVERYTHING with no stops in between. His little sister banged away on the piano, and her long tresses obscured her face thoroughly.

19. Liquid Cheese - Great local ska band in Las Cruces. You cannot help but dance the whole night.

20. Arrogant Sons of Bitches - I think these guys opened for Liquid Cheese at El Patio? They were fun, and played a Radiohead cover that was totally rad.

21. Ten Tenors - no, not three, TEN! - Donnie, Megan and I (and possibly a few others I can't remember) went to see this Australian group in El Paso. They went from Puccini to the BeeGees seamlessly.

22. Bob Schneider - Ashlee forced me to go see this guy at Schuba's. I wasn't interested. Until the moment he stepped onstage. Possibly the quickest I've ever fallen in love with a performer. Ask Ashlee to do her impression of me dancing, looking over my shoulder, and smiling at her the first time I saw Bob. Subsequently saw him at Martyr's, Double Door, and the Metro.

23. Jason Mraz - In 2003, Donnie called to tell me Jason Mraz would be performing near him in Cleveland. I happened to have a couple days off. I jumped in the car and drove alone from Chicago. Jason was magical, although his audience, I could have lived without.

24. Raul Midon - One of Jason Mraz's openers. Blind R&B guitarist/singer. We waited outside the concert to meet Jason, and after about 20 minutes, here walks Raul with his assistant. He had mentioned that he was from New Mexico during the concert, and we shared our New Mexicanness with him. He stood and sweetly talked to us for a long time. Jason never came out, but we didn't care.

25. Ben Lehl Band - Hot Cakes. That's all I have to say.

26. Lyle Lovett and his Large Band - 2004, Marky came to visit me in Chicago. Jonathan, Ashlee, Marky, and I sat in the grass at Ravinia for Lyle. I got my first chigger.

27. The Roots - Rieckelman and I drove 1 1/2 hours in the torrential rain to Milwaukee to see Summerfest. We stood on the bleachers, and the rain was so bad it was like taking a shower. That's probably why the guy next to me got completely naked.

28. JC Chasez - 2004, Isaac came to visit Chicago, and we saw JC at the House of Blues. JC, screwed up the words to "Dear Goodbye," blaming it on his mom's presence in the audience. It was adorable.

29. Maroon 5 - Adam Levine traded places with the drummer, and they performed "Highway to Hell."

30. John Mayer - Headliner for Maroon 5. Stage lighting so beautiful, I wanted to cry. Chum Chums smuggled a cigarette into the Pan Am and shared it with me.

31. Gogol Bordello - Bar none, the worst show I've ever been to. Don't lay a trip on me. It SUCKED. We walked out after one song.

32. Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise - Robert Bradley is a dirty old man. First show I ever saw at the Double Door.

33. Joseph Arthur - Got to the concert VERY late--only heard the last song. Second show I saw at the Double Door.

34. Persistance - 2005, Andy's Jazz Club. Before I joined the band.

35. Etta James - Ravinia. She doesn't have the chops she used to, but it was great to hear her live.

36. Tom Jones - When Tom Jones walked out on the stage after Etta, the place got a little hotter. He was solid as a rock.

37. Linda Eder - Did you know that people walk up and put quarters on the stage throughout her show?

38. Bernadette Peters - Bernie's husband died just days before this show. I don't know how she got through "Being Alive" without collapsing.

39. Everyday People - A friend at work turned Kelly and me on to this Austin band. "I'm a regular nine to fiver, a coffee and cream survivor." That's us!

40. Rodriguez - Sheppy and I saw this show on October 28th, 2006 at the Sav-Mor Lounge. They played the entire Thriller album.

41. The Swell Season - This was the first time I had fun after Marky got sick. I felt simultaneously guilty and exhilarated. It was like going to church. I lost my nerve when Glen Hansard asked the audience if someone would be willing to come on stage to help him sing the song from "Once." I'll never forgive myself for passing up that oportunity. Glen is far and away the most gracious performer I've ever witnessed. He said "Thank you," probably 43 times.

42. Jamburglars - Chum Chums and I saw the tail end of Danny and Scott's band at El Patio after seeing "Enron: The Musical" at NMSU.

43. Mike Doughty - 2007, Marky and I sat in the upper level of the Vic and enjoyed being adults. "Fort Hood" is really great live.

44. Tegan and Sara - Their music has never made much of an impression on me, but their banter is hilarious. One of them admitted she had diarrhea for an entire year.

45. B-52's - A main attraction at the True Colors tour. They did all the favorites, and Kate sounds and looks great.

46. Bumpus - Matt suggested I see this band for the backup singers. I told Kelly, and she jumped at the opportunity. We saw them at Martyr's, and I can't wait to see them again. I talked to one of the backup singers after the show, and got completely starstruck. Kelly had to talk for me.

47. Tina Turner - FINALLY, MY IDOL!!! United Center, October 2008. I bought tickets for me and mom as a surprise. Chris and Monica got tickets for me as a surprise. Oops! We all went together and successfully scalped one of the extra two tix. Tina was outstanding. I cried through the first four songs, and was thankful no one saw.

48. Liza Minnelli - I finally saw Liza at the Venue in Horseshoe Casino in Hammond, Indiana. She is masterful at phrasing. And she sat on a stool for most of the performance, wearing a headband.

49.Elton John - My first time at Wrigley Field. Won the tickets at a karaoke contest (I was the only contestant, so I never actually had to sing anything). His sunglasses were very demure, with a simple rhinestoned "EJ" on each lens.

50.Billy Joel - Same concert as above. I fell in love with "Zanzibar" this night. Billy swatted at flies all night like a lunatic. He was one of the most engaging performers I've seen. He let his roadie sing "Highway to Hell." Deja vu.

A Few Good Frogs

During the past month, I've seen some good movies. We usually go to the theater every week, but in an effort to save a little cash, we've been hitting the Netflix pretty hard. Looking back, they're all French movies, but that's just a coincidence. If you have a problem with subtitles, get over it. These are all must see's.

La Vie En Rose. My mom has been suggesting this biopic for awhile. Edith Piaf is a voice you will almost certainly recognize, but might not love. Her style is dated and nasal, but once you watch her story, you will adore that snarly sound every time it pops up on your Billie Holliday Pandora station. Marion Cotillard is an amazingly beautiful actress who completely abandoned her looks for the role of La Môme. Like Mama Cass and Janis Joplin, Edith got by on her talent, not her looks. She had a ton of heart. This is one of the most tragic stories in show business--more than that. It's just a really sad start she got off to, and a sadder end, and I never knew any of it until now. And I share a birthday with her.

Man on Wire. This won for best documentary at the Academy Awards, right? Well, it was deserved. I love documentaries, and this is different than any one I've seen. A full-length feature about a French guy walking a tightrope between New York's Twin Towers. Although that's a monumental task, how could there be enough material for that? Of course, there are 21st century interviews of the international friends who helped him back in the 1970's. Then there's this amazing flashback material. The actors look SO much like the people in the interviews. And a quarter of the way through the film, you realize, they are those people. This story has waited 30 years to be told. This incredibly charismatic person surrounded himself with the most colorful, creative, positive crew he could find to help him achieve his ridiculous dream. And the most beautiful part is that he isn't the one who gets the most emotional about the memory. It was his walk, his art, but his friends seemed more invested in it than him. He was just a vessel for the inspiration to manifest itself.

JCVD. Just watched this last night. I haven't read any reviews, I just want to tell you what I think it was about. Jean Claude Van Damme. I know. The only movie I've ever seen him in is Time Cop. And I don't even know why I saw that in the first place. I'm not much for action movies. I suppose it's because there's no acting, per se, just action. Back to the subject, though, JCVD is a lovely surprise. Here's my take: Something surreal happens to a man who already lives a surreal life. The main character faces a divorce, loses custody of his child, goes home to Belgium, and appears to rob a post office. As far as I can understand (keep in mind, I know nothing about the man), this is not autobiographical. None of these events actually took place, but Jean Claude is portraying himself. And who's to say if he's really a sweet, honorable, horribly misunderstood person en realité? I think it crosses that line wonderfully. JCVD's soliloquy is worth the price of admission. And getting a good long look at that face that has been weathered by camera flashes and abusive cab drivers. Oh, and the cigarette trick--I think he must have done it in a thousand bad kickboxing flicks. Maybe it's because I live with a personal trainer, but his body is amazing. He's still so big and strong for his age. I'm getting simple on you. Sorry. Beautiful movie. Three beautiful movies. Rent them.

Thank you, Old Fart. Thank you Judy.

Last night I had the opportunity to grace the stage of one of the highest class establishments in Chicagoland.  In an effort to protect its anonymity, I'll call it "Feet Smeller's."  Also dubbed "The Cougar's Den" and "Blowjob Palace," Feet Smeller's boasts the allure of a frat party and the charm of a pig's slop trough.  Probably responsible for 85% of drunk driving accidents in the greater Wheeling area, Feet Smeller's has never let me down when I really need to see vomit splashed tenderly upon at least two of the 4 ladies' johns.  But enough about the fabulous venue.  Let's get to the patrons.  

We finished our first set without much issue.  Business has been slow since the economic downturn, and the cougars have moved on to greener plains.  Freakonomically speaking, it makes me wonder if people are so strapped for cash that in addition to drinking a few less lattes a week, middle aged women are cutting down on seeking extramarital relations.  Body glitter is a major expense.  Anyway, I chatted with the band, ate some dinner, kept to myself for the most part.  Then the second set.  I should really learn not to leave my seat.  But a girl's gotta get to the bathroom.  As I briskly walked to the back room, I heard someone grunting, "Hey.  Hey.  Miss.  Hey."

I usually ignore people.  I hate to admit it, but if the best you can come up with is, "Hey," I'll probably pretend I have a hearing problem.  But the voice persisted, and a female voice joined in.

"Miss?  Hello?"  So I turned my head.  A nice-enough looking elderly couple sat in the back corner, and they waved me over.  Upon my approach, they both started talking.  The gentleman started.

"We've seen you before," the lady said.

"Oh, really?"  Always be nice to returning patrons.  "Thanks for coming to see us.  Where did you see us before?

The gentleman replied, "Oh, it was Tommy Pescorelli."

Was that any kind of answer?  "Oh, where was that?"

"It was Athens, Georgia," he confidently answered.  

Ok, I really had to pee, and this conversation was going to have to end soon.  "Oh, that wasn't me.  I've never been to Georg---"

"It was twenty years ago," the lady interjected.  "Tommy's son."  I shook my head and began to turn to leave, trying not to make the poor drunk lady feel badly for calling me old.  "No!  It was La Cave!"  

"Oh," I gave in. "I have played there.  Tommy was the owner?"

"No," the man argued, "he's just a friend.  You played there.  You wore a white dress.  Or a yellow dress."  He seemed very sure of himself, but I had finally found my exit.

"Well, I always wear black," and just as this useless conversation was about to come to a neutral end, it took the turn I should have taken seconds earlier.

"Because of your weight?"  

At that moment, I turned on my heel and resumed my brisk walk to the vomitorium.  Seriously?  What did I do to deserve that question?  When we started the third set, I couldn't help but feel some resentment toward the entire crowd.  The Feet Smeller's diners are some of the lamest on earth, and this is far from an isolated incident.  For the first song, I really wanted to make a snarky dedication to the couple in the back, but they were already gone.  And that's what really eats me.  I didn't get the last word.  Through the rest of the evening, I dreamed up great comebacks for that comment.  Here are some ideas:

1. "Well, your fatass wife is wearing white, and she's cool.  I mean, you can hardly detect the Depends through her elastic track suit pants."  

2.  "I would tell you to go fuck yourself, but that would be impossible since the E.D. probably got the better of you around age 80."  

3.  Spill a drink in his lap.  It wouldn't matter if it was hot or cold, because the Depends would protect him from any real harm.  

4.  "You'll have to excuse me, the smell of Ben Gay is making my nauseous, and you better catch that bus back to the home so you don't miss Matlock."

5.  "Thank you for keeping my ego in check"

 Rather than wallow, I grabbed a bottle of Riesling on the way home, and popped in Judy Garland Live at the Palladium.  This was one of the first (if not the very first) times Liza sang with her mom on stage.  Little Liza sang, fought off Judy's attempts to grab her mic, stroked her mother's hair, and ruled the entire show.  Those two were masterful at portraying modesty and graciousness.  I wish I could pretend like them.  

About halfway through this post-hepatitis croakfest, the boys in the audience start yelling, "I love you!"  Judy returned the affection happily.  

Then they made the request.  The request she hated.  

Who wouldn't be sick of Dorothy?  She had made so much music in her short life, but all they wanted was to hear "Rainbow."  This shell of Judy had also been utterly upstaged by her teenage daughter.  She sweetly protested.   When more requests flew at her, she sharply assured them it was on its way, knowing the hit was last on the set list.  If you ever have the chance to watch this concert, don't listen to the words she's saying, just listen to her tone and watch her body language.  Then try to imagine what she's really saying inside.  It's a good thing she didn't bring a gun to that performance.  

After the duets, it was time.  Judy looked for her favorite audience member.  "Liza?  Liza, will you come out here?  Just sit here in front."  Liza dutifully sits cross-legged in front of her mother and adores her.  I think Judy sang about 2 1/2 words before beckoning the crowd to sing along.  She tells Liza to sing, too, but Liza was smarter.  She silently stared at her mama, beaming, holding her hand.  And the audience did all the work.  It was beautiful.  

Top 25 Albums of All Time

I thought I'd try to elevate the current Facebook meme and not only give my top 25 albums, but a little background. Enjoy.

25. Now - Maxwell

Three words: This Woman's Work. During a particularly difficult time in my life (and the life of a good friend), my voice teacher introduced me to this song. I didn't know who it was for--me or my friend. Either way, it was perfect.

The rest of the album followed. The story of a man who gives a shit about his woman for the long haul, but can get down and groove with her for a night. There are few sexier guitar riffs than the animalistic strums in Temporary Night. Maxwell, don't be sorry that you've been thinking nasty thoughts about me. It's only natural. I'm very critical of ballads, especially with a proliferation of falsetto. For Lovers Only and Silently pass the cheese test.

24. Revisited - Dr. Hook and The Medicine Show

Everybody knows the catchy Cover of the Rolling Stone. Some know the sappy Sylvia's Mother. But I think the humor and the emotion both run deeper than those two songs over the course of this album. Queen of the Silver Dollar scares the hell out of me. To rule a smoky kingdom, where my scepter is a wine glass and a barstool is my throne? It reminds me not to get too excited about killing at karaoke. The "clap" in Penicillin Penny always makes me laugh, and I can't help singing along with Acapulco Goldie. I think there are no more friendly lyrics than those of Freakin' At The Freaker's Ball, and none more candid and openhearted than Get My Rocks Off.

23. Pet Your Friends - Dishwalla

This was my go-to play-through during my sophomore year of college. It wasn't Counting Blue Cars that got my attention. In fact, I usually skip that poor overplayed bastard of a song. I heard Charlie Brown's Parents once on the radio (and never again--kinda think it was a mistake) and went straight to Hastings to pick it up. Little did I know this album would be brimming with sensitive wussy rock. In a good way. I won't pretend to know the lead singer's name. He's got a really nice voice. My M.O. is often falling for a band because the lead is cute. He's alright, but the voice and the lyrics are beautiful. I like a band who is brave enough to write Pretty Babies, a song condemning the sexualization of young children by the media, or Miss Emma Peel, an ode to the gal on the Avengers, a "chick full of tint and technicolor."

22. Achtung Baby - U2

I appropriated this cassette from my high school boyfriend, after years of disparaging the name of U2. The opening of Ultraviolet just kills me. It's so sad. Not the words, but the simple guitar intro. "You left my heart empty as a vacant lot"? How fucking sad is that? I wasn't aware enough for Joshua Tree, groovy enough for Rattle and Hum, nor hip enough for Zooropa. Achtung Baby was just good timing. With all of U2's costume changes over the years, this was the right fit for me. I was finally ready. That falsetto in So Cruel hooked me in. This album is the perfect mixture of the heartfelt Irish balladeer, and thumping Eurorock. If I hear one song, I have to listen to the whole album. It's like turning on A&E when Dirty Dancing is playing. I'll stick it out to the end for old time's sake.

21. Want One/Want Two - Rufus Wainwright

I know. It's a little early to break the rules. But if you've heard these albums, can you really break up Go or Go Ahead and The Art Teacher? Just because Rufus didn't presume to sell his version of Use Your Illusion as a set, doesn't mean they aren't a double album. These sets of songs defined a new genre: Popera. Cheesy, but this is really popera done right. It's not Il Divo. It's a new wave of beautifully orchestrated, well thought-out jazz, classical, and pop music. Yes, it's dreary at times, but gems like Little Sister are uplifting and humorous.

Want One proves a little more obviously autobiographical, while Want Two is more of an artistic look at Wainwright's life. This Love Affair could be anyone. Several anyones. Is that a picardy third at the end? Can I get an amen from my music peeps? And who knows which songs were written when. What I know is that each collection goes well together, but you could really toss them all up and I wouldn't know the diff. And that's okay, here.

20. Lie to Me - Johnny Lang

The closest I ever came to being a cougar was at age 21. Along comes this 16-year-old child, who was already a veteran in the blues scene. This was the same year Hanson came out with MmmBop, and Britney and Christina were doing their things. It was certainly a year filled with musical jailbait. Jonny, I knew, would have some longevity, whether he became a superstar or not. He played well, but that gritty, gutteral growl was just amazing. Thank goodness he's got a wailing gospel lady backing him up, so I have someone to safely sing along with. The title track is a perfect blues song. It's just asking for pain. "Lie to me and tell me everything is alright. Lie to me and tell me that you'll stay here tonight." Matchbox and Rack 'Em Up had to make blues giants scratch their heads about this white kid intruding on their turf, but they obviously accepted that undeniable talent. "Ain't no shame in bein' beat by a master."

My only wish was that Missing Your Love had gotten more airtime. I take that back. I'm glad I know that song so well, and that it's relatively hidden from the general public. Follow up albums Wander This World and Long Time Coming both had their great moments, but none as earth shattering as the debut. And even though I'm glad that Jonny eventually found his way in religion and sobriety, I miss that tightrope he walked when he was so young.

19. The Bends - Radiohead

I know it's a good album when I don't know the titles of any of the songs. If you ask me about Planet Telex, I'm lost. If you look at The Bends as a whole, you'll hear basic dynamics lacking in 95% of popular music. Thom Yorke got my attention my junior year of high school with Creep. I couldn't understand the last word of "I'm a creep, I'm a [woodoo]," and the screen was all blurry and out of proportion on MTV. When I found out that Yorke wasn't a beautiful Hollywood leading man (hence the mysterious video style), it made me love his yearning voice all the more. There is some real pain there. And we've all been there before. But back to The Bends. I wished we could be happy. I wanted so much for it to be another decade that I braided this album with The Mamas and The Papas and The Partridge Family into a mix tape. Cherish should really follow the title track, and Nice Dream flows seamlessly into I Call Your Name. Put those three in your iPod and mix them up. It works.

18. 1984 - Van Halen

Is it Eddie's gentle, yet perfect harmonic intro to Top Jimmy? Or Alex's double bass drum in Hot For Teacher? Let's not forget the importance of David Lee Roth's role as kung-fu MTV video god. Back in the good old days of performance videos, Van Halen ruled. Colorful, rockin', but not too hard for an 8-year old to get behind, VH was a staple in the cassette deck. Can anyone deny the title track as one of the best openers of all time? Anyone? Then we go right to Jump, which is immortal. Undeniable. You cannot listen to that without singing along a little, or tapping some air fretboard. So, we've got these iconic songs, but the whole album (if you're not completely familiar) is chock full of humor (Drop Dead Legs), musicality (I'll Wait), and virtuosic performances (Girl Gone Bad). These four rockers were worth more than the sum of their parts, but each part was pretty fucking cool. And they certainly made a go of it later, with separate projects. Granted, there were albums before, but nothing eclipsed this pinnacle of their careers.

17. Footloose and Fancy Free - Rod Stewart

With an opener like Hot Legs, I have to say, this is one of those albums that should be locked away until the sun comes out and you have access to a souped-up convertible. To think that some crazy bitch is wearing Rod down to the point that he needs a shot of Vitamin E to keep up is just hilarious. If you want your kid to be the next Mozart, Born Loose can teach little guys about accelerando. If loving Rod's versions of Luther Ingram and Supremes songs is wrong, I don't wanna be right. As a Kindergardener listening to this 8 track in my mom's green Mazda, I learned about growling, screeching, sighing, and all the drama and vocal dynamics I would need to hone my craft. I definitely wanted to be a man singer rather than a gal singer. I still pretend to be Rod now and again.

16. Seven and the Ragged Tiger - Duran Duran

This was my first cassette. I got it for Easter '84, and I was a little scared of it. My brother claimed it for his own. I, like everyone else, knew The Reflex, but the videos seemed so serious, I wasn't sure if I would get it. Excuse me, Tiger Tiger had no words? Where was Hungry Like the Wolf? Rio? No thank you. I did get pulled in by Arena later, and I can't sing along with any of the original recordings without inserting Simon's adornments in the live versions. Back on track, though, I listened to this album sort of peripherally, through my brother, and it was always a part of me. In high school, I scored cassette copies of Seven and Arena, and hold tight onto daddy's bracelets! I reeducated myself with this collection of turned up collar, high hair, guylined, pre-emo lyrics and melodies. I've never actually read the lyrics to The Seventh Stranger. I think it goes, "For whom as in the wake-up such a lonely clown." Are there any real instruments involved? I don't care. I love those Brits.

15. Waiting for My Rocket to Come - Jason Mraz

What a debut album! I'll be honest. This album reminds me of a summer harmonizing with my friend, Don. This album tastes like sticky rice with coconut to me. I also love the color of the CD itself, kind of a chicken flavor Ramen noodle shade of goldenrod. By now, everyone who cares, knows that Mraz has a musical theater background, and that's why, although the instrumentation can get dense, he can lean so heavily on his vocals. I've seen him live, and he's great. Another thing I'll be honest about. His live albums teeter on the self-important verge of becoming another DMB. Not interested. Still, this album is pure, honest, and beautiful. Unashamed to talk about sex, pot, his love for his dog, and his masterful flow, Mraz hit the target with this wonderfully varied collection of tunes.

There are a lot of words here. You have to work to sing along with him, but Rocket is a great canvas on which to paint some harmonies. The upbeat number are great, but the ballads are my favorites. I want a guy to write the brown eyed lyrical counterpart to "sequined seafoam eyes" for me. It's been awhile since a pop singer wrote a truly tortured ballad like Absolutely Zero.

14. Spirits Having Flown - Bee Gees

Tragedy is a killer opener. Insistant, unpredictable, electric guitar, dark strings, synthesizer. Sidenote: A nice companion album, perfectly enough, is Shadow Dancing by little brother Andy Gibb. That title track is another bomb of a track one. Let's follow up that breathless power pop with Too Much Heaven. Oh my, I'm four. I know it's time for bed, but I want to play that LP that looks like rainbow sherbet on the back. Just one song. The one about "it's as high as a mountain." Please mom, just that one. Thank goodness that one puts me to sleep, because I wouldn't be able to handle the wocka chicka wocka chicka coming next. It's polyester disco at it's best. These guys really made a huge jump from their I Started a Joke and To Love Somebody days. If you put your ear to the records, the instrumentation is the same, it's just that Spirits was so rich and well-produced. And Barry's hair never looked better. On his head or his chest.

13. Make It Big - Wham!

Did you know that Wham! had a third member? It was me. I bought their clothes, did my hair big, and learned all the words to all the songs, just in case Andrew Ridgeley and George Michael had a blowout in my neighborhood and stopped at my house for help, and decided to stage an impromptu audition. I was ready.

Can we talk about Heartbeat for a moment? This is a great song. It's got this 50's doo-wop beat, and a really nice vocal line. George really showed what he had, here. "Standing on the line between desire and duty." What duty? Who cares? And why didn't the Jackson 5 think of If You Were There? Thank you, Wham! for providing me my first education in baby mama drama with Everything She Wants. Only owners of Make it Big knew the intro to Careless Whisper wasn't a soaring sax line, it was a classical guitar. I'd really love to rewrite the lyrics and wipe the general population's memory clean of that song, so that this gem can be regarded as a vocal masterpiece. I'm still ready for my audition, guys.

12. An Innocent Man - Billy Joel

The theme song to a Rodney Dangerfield movie opens Billy Joel's departure album. Easy Money taught me about James Brown before I'd ever heard I Feel Good. Screeches, growls, horns, and great lyrics. "Talk me into losin' just so long as I can win." Then we ease into Billy crooning the title track with no more than a bass and an intermittent snap. Then, dynamics. Big piano, drums, and that high note from Billy. Next, the whole reason you bought the album: A street quintet doo-wopping The Longest Time. Listen to Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata and you'll hear This Night. Tell Her About It is why I know I could never be a good lyricist. What a great idea. Mentor/friend telling you how to not screw up a relationship. Jumping ahead, Christie Lee is another great story song about a girl and a sax player, with cute innuendo and Jerry Lee Lewis style ivory banging. The harmonica adorned Leave a Tender Moment Alone seems to happen in all of Billy Joel's albums. He's basically telling his woman he's eventually gonna screw it up, it's just a matter of time. Keep screwing up, Billy. It's great material.

11. For Lovers, Dreamers, and Me - Alice Smith

The most recent of my picks, Alice is an instant classic. I've already written a blog about her, so I might keep this one short. If you don't bend your knees and bounce a little when you hear Woodstock, you might be dead. You should also feel a little like you're watching Shaft when you hear Gary Song. Chicago is my desert in Desert Song--even when I doubt my role here, I can listen to this song and know that I'm doing the right thing. And let Secrets be a lesson to gossips. Including myself.

Lots of music here. LOTS of singing. You will find something you like. Alice is not lifestyle music (that's funny I should mention that with Coldplay looming around the corner), but I really think that just about anyone could love her.

10. Parachutes - Coldplay

Parachutes is another album eternally paired with another, David Gray's White Ladder. I don't interweave them, but the conclusion of either album makes me long for the commencement of its sibling.

The marketing for this album was persistant and successful. I'm not saying the album didn't merit the attention it garnered, but I will admit that the first time I heard of Coldplay was on a Sunday morning news show. Yes, soon Yellow was played into the ground, but did you see the video? The sun rose during the course of a one-shot shoot. They timed the sun rising, for crying out loud. Trouble is the same story. Overplayed, but just beautiful. Coldplay pulled together a relatively quiet, clean, simple album, and no matter how much I listen, I never tire of it. The ethereal voice and thin accompaniment are both perfect. Hidden gems: Sparks is a beautiful illustration of a love-soaked daze. Ironically, High Speed moves along like a floppy leaf falling from a century old maple tree. Did the title track start out as a bridge for a song that got cut? I'd like to ask Chris Martin why exactly he thought a 46-second song was necessary. It's nice, though. When it's done right, a great album doesn't need to hide behind noise, velocity or conventional duration.

9. The Dance - Fleetwood Mac

Lindsay Buckingham is a genius control freak genius! Let me back up. I got turned on to this concert the summer of '97. My brother was permanently moving out of our family house, and we tried to spend some time together knowing it would be the official end of childhood. That summer, VH-1 and MTV were shamelessly promoting dueling concerts that would run simultaneously. This was 100 years ago before TiVo, okay? Luckily, we didn't really give a toss about KISS reuniting.

To tell the truth, we didn't have much prior knowledge of Fleetwood Mac, but snippets of The Chain kept reverberating through the commercial breaks, enticing us with it's dark thumping intro. We sat down for this concert and were completely mesmerized, song after song. We were just two people sitting in a living room, not a stadium of thousands, but the frenetic fingerpicking solo in Big Love propelled both of us into a standing ovation. Landslide was one of my money songs in high school, and I approved of the new moments Stevie Nicks slipped in. The look Lindsay and Stevie shared during the thunderous applause afterward gave me goosebumps. Tusk, the USC Marching Band, closing with Don't Stop. It was glorious.

We videotaped the concert, and agreed to mail it back and forth to each other so no one was the official owner. It took many months for the show to come out on CD, that Chris decided to jump through some serious hoops to get us tickets for the show in Houston a couple months later. We had to get our fix.

8. Hair - Original Broadway Cast Recording

Before La Vie Boheme's "bisexuals, trisexuals, homosapiens carcinogens, hallucinogens," there was Hair's "long straight curly fuzzy snaggy shaggy ratty matty."

If only I had known that this album would score me an A on the Shakespeare soliloquy recitation test in sophomore English, I would have listened to What A Piece of Work Is Man earlier. Also, kids, if you need a road map through the Gettysburg Address, Abie Baby makes it pretty colorful and fun to memorize. Although Frank Mills was another one of my money songs, I secretly wished I could find two other chicks to sing the funky White Boys with me. I listened to the whole album, falling for the quirky numbers, like My Conviction and Abie Baby. However, once I saw Treat Williams walking onto that plane in the 1979 movie, I get choked up every time The Flesh Failures reprises Manchester, England in minor mode. I would love to be in this show.

7. X - INXS

Michael Hutchence had me hypnotized in all the videos for Kick, and it only got worse when I heard Suicide Blonde. He loved a girl with dark hair in The Loved One, but this blonde bitch made me jealous. Speaking of hair, Michael's looked awesome in the video for Disappear. If I couldn't have him, then I could get a stacked perm and try to look like him. I understand The Stairs so much better now that I live in a big city. The anonymity/closeness of neighbors is an amazing phenomenon. I love the uncomfortably long intro, kinda like the silence you might share with your next door neighbor standing behind them in line at Dominick's.

Originally, I think I loved this album simply because it wasn't as famous as Kick. I wanted it to myself. Later I decided X has more musical integrity, rather than the wanna-be soul sound of its predecessor. On the whole, the album preaches the value of love and togetherness (By My Side, especially), rather than a party album, or something political.

6. She's So Unusual - Cyndi Lauper

This was my first concert. My mom's coworker, Yrene, took this 2nd grader for an overnight trip to Las Cruces for a show at the Pan Am. I got a turquoise t-shirt that had a repeating image of Cyndi on the front, and a pair of hot pink socks, one which read, "She," the other "Bop." My brownie mother called me Cyndi for an entire year after I teased my hair to one side and spray painted it orange for Halloween. Cyndi Lauper is the reason I can't commit to one color of Fiestaware dishes. Cyndi gave me permission to be loud and funny and weird. Thank goodness my mom was okay with this seemingly safe punk diva. I didn't know the real meaning of She Bop for years.

I knew her single and her image. That was enough to make me need that concert. Girls do want to have fun, but I learned all the other songs that night. I do the 80's dance when I hear I'll Kiss You's thumping tom tom groove. Money Changes Everything will have lyrical relevance forever, and the bouncing guitar and squeezebox sounds are undeniably cool. What I didn't understand, but nonetheless appreciated was the sound behind When You Were Mine. It's a duet of Cyndi's sound and Prince's words, but really it's a trio. Cyndi's banshee wail harmonizes with her warm deep manly sound in octaves throughout. Lady's got some pipes, and if this album doesn't convince you, then find a recording of I'm Gonna Be Strong from her band Blue Angel. She's positively superhuman. And not just loud and screamy. Her ballads are beautiful. I don't know how you could have missed Time After Time or All Through The Night. If you did, though, get out the yearbooks and the Kleenex. Jimmy broke your heart in 6th grade, and you'll never get over it, but Cyndi will console you with these torch classics.

5. Grace - Jeff Buckley

And now I present The Catcher in the R---I mean Grace. I'm going to say it. If you've never listened to Grace, you are not cool. This musical martyr's life was short, and the songs he left behind are sweet. It's difficult to describe why I desperately love Jeff Buckley. I should begin with the fact that I'm practically related because his dad was on the last episode of The Monkees.

Jeff Buckley is one of my main vocal inspirations, and I'm ashamed it took me almost a decade after Grace's release to recognize how important he would be to me. I definitely remember hearing Last Goodbye on the radio, but I didn't peel the layers of the onion until I listened to the whole album. This is another instant classic, and not because of Buckley's untimely demise. "It's my time coming I'm not afraid to die," are the prophetic lyrics of the title track. I'm usually partial to the first version I hear, but I've heard even more passionate renditions of Mojo Pin. His live stuff was really good. Jeff Buckley had a reputation for playing too long and too annoying, and either I haven't paid close enough attention or I'm obsessed. I like it all. Lilac Wine always slows down time for me. I almost can't breathe waiting for that first gentle strum that opens up the chorus. I think the whispered, "I love you, but I'm afraid to love you, I'm afraid," in So Real may be the most sexual line in music history--not for the words, but the inflection. Hallelujah. Enough said. Lover, You Should Have Come Over is the sexiest song to ever mention funeral mourners. Corpus Christi Carol isn't for everyone, but I respect the hell out of Jeff for tossing in a ditty from the 16th century, complete with an impossibly high long note at the end. I think Dream Brother is an angry song about his absent dad ditching him repeatedly. Sad, but makes the whole legend of the Buckleys a legend.

4. Photographs and Memories - Jim Croce

"Greatest hits albums are for housewives and little girls." Bruce Mc Cullough, Shame-Based Man.

I was a little girl when this album stole my heart. It has so much humor and beauty. Jim Croce had that innate ability to shut up and write. I can't stop myself. In respective spans of less than 4 minutes, Jim weaves the intricate story of a hustler who loses his pool empire to a guy from Alabama, sings a love song to his child, regrets the mistakes that landed him in jail while buffing a car to a high gloss, dedicates an ode a butch roller derby girl built like a kitchen appliance, recants the exploits of a badass Chicago Southsider, has a vengeful breakup, justifies a sad breakup, describes a stock car driver right down to his two tattoos, then admits that he's not too good at talking.

Right, Jim. You're not too good at the whole talking thing.

3. Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, and Jones, Ltd. - The Monkees

"And now from the elegant Pomp Room of the magnificent Palmer House high over Chicago asking that musical question..." Believe me, it was tough not to cheat and try to slip in the entire Monkees Box Set. And don't think I love all their songs equally.

PAC&J provides a healthy variety of styles for my short tween attention span. Daily Nightly was the first time I heard the Monkees go psychedelic with Micky on the Moog ( I didn't actually hear Headquarters until later). Peter Percival Patterson's Pet Pig Porky is Peter's spoken word poem that makes children of all ages giggle. Mike gets his well-deserved country chance with Salesman, a ditty about Beelzebub, and the longing apostrophe-fest What Am I Doin' Hangin' 'Round. Hard to Believe is Davy's schmaltzy samba that I grew to appreciate after fast forwarding through it about 70 times. The chunky guitar intro of Love is Only Sleeping might not be on par with Jimmy Page, but heck, it's sure danceable. Super happy tunes Pleasant Valley Sunday, Star Collector, and Cuddly Toy each have deep social themes, well-suited for the Pre-Fab Four's ravenous fans.

I love the cover art, the order of the songs, and the dreamy feeling I get when I close my eyes and spin this disc. Looking back, my inner hippie recognized that Mike got a real shot with the majority of the songs, his five eclipsing Micky's typical stranglehold on the vocals. What can I say? At age 10, I was ready for more challenging bubblegum pop.

2. Painted from Memory - Elvis Costello with Burt Bacharach

I accidentally flipped to Sessions on PBS in '98, and that cheesy piano balladeer was pounding away with... The Veronica guy? It took all of nine seconds to draw me in. Elvis took about three minutes to pay homage to the female backup singer who soloed on My Thief. I got a little angry. You could barely hear her. The more I think about that moment, and each time I listen to that song, I appreciate it more. She was painting on their canvas with the perfect light stroke. God bless the leads who believe in their backup singers.

I don't know anyone else who knows this album, and it makes me sad. Then the I feel so strongly about these arrangements, that I admitted to my opera teacher I wanted to not only sing along with Elvis Costello. I wanted to sing these songs like an opera singer would. The melodies are that beautiful. Walking through a music store in Austin, there it was. Sophie von fucking Otter had recorded an opera version of Painted from Memory. I'm so jealous I didn't get to it first.

Burt Bacharach is a pimp. His style hasn't changed a whit since I'll Never Fall in Love Again. Why? Because what he does works. Someone out there is thinking the same mundane thoughts you are, waxing poetic about borderline stalker jealousy (Tears at the Birthday Party), the city you met your lover (Toledo), your girlfriend moving out(This House is Empty Now). Call it melodramatic. Call Elvis's vocals gushy and strained. This album swings a big pair of wall-of-sound balls. Strings and kettle drums and muted horns. Please learn to love this album. It will make your life richer. Then we can talk about each song.

1. Mama Said - Lenny Kravitz

Before I wanted to marry Lenny Kravitz, I wanted to be him. I heard Always On The Run on MTV, of course. Dirty guitar strums, screeching the verse, a sexy spoken interlude, a bouncy horn section finish. Thank goodness I had wheels to get to the music store. This is the first album I purchased from Sound Warehouse that had explicit lyrics. The fact that they were politically driven (What the F*$k are We Saying) made it defensible in my mind.

I don't remember listening to anything else the summer after my freshman year of high school. This was the coolest thing I had ever heard. Mama Said is the closest I got to jazz until after college. Now, the psychedelic folk renaissance seems a little trite, but Lenny was a frontrunner. In my world, he was alone for a good long time before the Black Crowes and Blind Melon joined in.

Lenny not only sang a love song. He admitted his wrongs, down on his knees. After hearing Stand By My Woman, I kinda wanted a boyfriend to do me wrong, in hopes of getting that kind of apology. And if I couldn't have a jerk boyfriend, maybe he could at least dedicate Butterfly to me. The fusion of jazz (What Goes Around Comes Around), soul (It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over), and Lenny's rock jones (Stop Draggin' Around), peppered with respites of sweet ballads, make it possible to enjoy Mama Said on repeat, ad infinitum.

Even though Lenny bared almost all in the video for Again, I have to end by saying I will never get over the day he cut off his dreds. Nice try, Lenny.