Back to the 80s

I was certain that I was going to miss it but according to Ottawa Public Health, I was okay.

We bought our tickets months ago; so far in the past, I almost forgot about them. But I remembered them over the weekend, when I was down with COVID-19.

"You're going to have to go with someone else," I told DW on Saturday. As yet. I hadn't felt the worst effects of my illness. That would come on Sunday and into early Monday.

"Wait and see how you feel," assured DW. We had purchased our tickets with two other friends, so worst-case scenario, she wouldn't go alone. And, perhaps, Kid 1 would go in my stead.

The 80s Show was to feature four bands from our teenage years: Spoons, Men Without Hats, A Flock of Seagulls, and Honeymoon Suite. I had seen Spoons perform three times in the past; most recently, in 2018, and they were still going strong.

I had seen Men Without Hats about 40 years ago. I loved that band in the early 80s and was looking forward to see Ivan on stage again.

I thought I had seen A Flock of Seagulls in the early 80s, too, but after the show I started wondering if I had been thinking of another synth-driven band.

I've never been a fan of Honeymoon Suite. I had nothing against them but their pop rock couldn't hold up to my taste for Yes, The Who, and of course, Led Zeppelin.

On Monday, at about lunchtime, I started feeling better. I no longer had a sore throat, my ears had cleared up (one ear was blocked, on the weekend, and I easily lost my balance), and I was no longer aching. By dinner, I was getting my appetite back and my lungs weren't burning.

I still had a cough but I'm used to that.

On Tuesday, I felt well enough to return to work and got a full day's worth of catching up done. I had been off for three work days.

During my lunch break, I went onto the City of Ottawa Public Health site, to see how long I'd have to continue to self-isolate. I had been spending the past few days in our spare bedroom and wearing a mask around the family.

According to the Web site, I could end my self-isolation 24 hours after my symptoms improved. That would place it around lunchtime on Tuesday. But would I have the energy, after my first day back to work, to sit in an arena?

When my work day was done, I took a nap. By then, I was feeling much better, and even started getting my appetite back.

More than 30 hours after I started feeling better, I was out of self-isolation and returning back to regular activities. First up, attending the 80s Show with friends.

Spoons were as strong as ever. When they wrapped up, I thought, was that it? I wanted more. (Side note: my photos are shit because we were in the nosebleed section and I'm zooming 3–10 times with my smartphone.)

Ivan, I believe, is the only original member of Men Without Hats, and I couldn't get over his energy level. He danced and ran on stage while singing and never skipped a beat. It was nice to learn that his niece was performing with him on keyboards and as backup vocals.

I have to say that I was disappointed with A Flock of Seagulls. First, they were so loud that it was almost unpleasant. DW's smartwatch warned her of harmful decibel levels. At times, the band sang a bit off-key, would miss a beat, and were generally boring.

We stayed for the first two songs of Honeymoon Suite and they were pretty good. Even though I wasn't a fan of theirs, in my teens, I had more appreciation for them now.

We left early because it had been a long day for us and for our friends, and we wanted to get out of the arena and make our way home before the crowds and traffic could slow us down.

And that had been a lot for me for the day.

It felt strange going to a concert immediately after recovering from my illness, but I felt well enough. I came so close to just staying home.

But our public health said I could do it.

Music Monday: Night of the Swallow

Photo source: Google

Last week, in the Twittersphere, I learned that Kate Bush was trending because, in the recent season of Stranger Things, the song "Running Up That Hill" is featured.

Great song.

Tweets surrounding Kate Bush seem to indicate that this British music icon is regaining popularity and I couldn't be happier for her. In the 1970s and 80s, she was a pioneer, being the first female artist to reach number one in the UK with a self-written song. She also produced all of her own albums from 1982, onward.

She is also reportedly the first artist to wear a microphone headset in a live performance so that she could dance, hands-free.

When her album, The Dreaming, was released in 1982, I was already familiar with Kate Bush's musical talent, having heard her sing backup for Peter Gabriel in his song, "Games Without Frontiers," in 1980 (she would also join Gabriel again, in 1986, for his song "Don't Give Up," which has a great video, IMHO). I had heard the title track, "The Dreaming," on the radio, and picked up her album soon thereafter.

I loved it. My parents hated it.

I would have to listen to the album with headphones when my parents were home—they didn't like the screaming (and donkey sounds) in "Get Out of My House" or the high-pitched vocals in "Suspended in Gaffa."

One of my absolute favourite tracks on The Dreaming is "Night of the Swallow." The rise and fall in Bush's voice in the chorus gives me imaginings of a bird in flight and even today, that song stops me in my tracks, makes me want to give it my full attention.

On Saturday, DW, Kid 1, and I invited ourselves to my parents place for dinner. We had bought a bunch of steaks earlier in the day, with fixings for salad. I asked my mom if I could grill the meat on her barbecue if we shared the meal. We also brought beer and wine to share. Mom, in return, made some potato salad and picked up a treat for dessert.

We had a great meal.

While I worked the barbecue on their deck, I admired the birds that visited their feeder. At one point, a sparrow landed on the feeder and sang me a song, and I don't know how it was related but in hearing the song of the sparrow, the song "Night of the Swallow" entered my head.

It remained with me for the rest of the weekend. At the time of writing this post (after 9 last night), the song was still going around in my head. In particular, the chorus was on a continuous loop.

So, for those of you who just discovered Kate Bush from Stranger Things, I give you one of her earlier songs, from 1982. There's no official video; just music, so put on your headphones, close your eyes, and enjoy!

Happy Monday!

The Big Chair Tour

In high school, I had friends in many camps. I had the academic friends, who received perfect grades and were pretty straight-laced, though they still liked to party and have fun.

I had friends who did okay in school or were barely scraping by, who liked to party more than hit the books.

And I had friends who were somewhere in between.

But all of my friends, no matter which camp they came from, had one thing in common: music.

No matter which group of friends I hung out with, we all pretty much listened to the same music. And if these groups varied in any musical taste, I tried to bring it all together.

There was only one friend who didn't like one particular band, who made fun of their music, and that band was Tears for Fears.

I can still hear him mocking one of their top hits:

Trout, trout, let your line out,
These are the fish I can do without...

It was funny, but I didn't like how he mocked me for my appreciation of the band.

When The Hurting was released in 1983, it was innovative and complex, with great percussion and rhythm. It was also very somber and deep, and many songs made it to my Depression Hits mixed audio cassette, full of angst and sadness. (I made several volumes, along with CarToons.)

When Songs From the Big Chair came out, Tears for Fears was one of my favourite bands, right up there with Peter Gabriel, Talk Talk, Simple Minds, and Ultravox.

My ticket stub.

So naturally, when Tears for Fears came to Ottawa for their Big Chair Tour on June 3, 1985, I had to see them. It was a great show, with Roland Orzabel and Curt Smith giving lots of energy in a solid performance. A couple of months ago, DW came across my ticket for that show and it brought back lots of memories (I think Cory Hart may have opened for them... or did he open for Culture Club? I saw so many concerts in the 80s). Though my friends and I were several rows back (apparently, section 21, row K, seat 15, for me), at the Ottawa Civic Centre, my friends and I had a great view of the whole stage.

And at least we weren't in the overheated crush of general admission. (More on that, next week.)

When the duo split up, in 1991, I sort of lost a bit of interest in the band. Orzabel continued to write and perform under Tears for Fears, but the energy of the duo seemed to fizzle, for me.

It wasn't until, in 2003, I heard a song from Orzabel's 1993 album, Elemental, that I renewed my love of the music. Orzabel and Smith reunited in 2000 and they have even toured, as a united Tears for Fears, as recently as 2019. If they make it back to Ottawa, I'll be sure to grab some tickets.

I'll leave this post with the song that renewed my love of the band: "Goodnight Song."

Happy Thursday!

Music Monday: Stuck in My Head

I was never a fan of the 80s Canadian band, The Pursuit of Happiness, but after the past 10 days or so, if I never hear them again, it would be too soon.

The Pursuit of Happiness entered the charts in 1986 with their song, "I'm An Adult Now," which I still hear playing at least a couple of times a month on one of Ottawa's rock  radio stations. (I dislike that song as much now as I did when it first hit the airwaves.)

Because I'm not a fan of this band, the only songs with which I am familiar are the ones that received the most airplay. The only other song I know, one that I used to actually like to a small degree, is their 1989 son, "She's So Young."

I liked how the song just starts off swinging, with vocals by Moe Burg leading the charge, with the music jumping in right behind him. The chorus is harmoniously backed by sisters Natasha and Tamara Amabile. It's a feel-good song that gets your toe tapping and sticks in your head.

And that's my problem. Sometime, about 10 days ago (at the time of writing this post), this song got into my head, likely after a visit to the washroom at work, where they pipe in this rock station. Once this song entered my head, it never left it.

Whenever I'm idle, or sitting at a computer, or on my smartphone, or driving in my car—which no longer has a radio or sound system—this song enters a continuous loop. (It's playing in my head while I bang out this post!)

They say that misery loves company, and so I'm now passing this tune onto you. Like it or not, here it is.



Happy Monday!

Wordless Wednesday: Smiling In Winter

Spoons, February 9, 2018

Getting Too Old

It's worse than a hangover.

With a hangover, my brain hurts and I feel dehydrated. With a hangover, I take a couple of ibuprofen tablets, drink a big glass of fruit juice and even more water, suck it up, and get on with my day.

I haven't experienced a hangover in a while because, while I may drink often, I don't drink a lot. These days, I'm not drinking at all.

But when the body wears out and fails you, there's nothing you can do except rest and take it easy.

This weekend, my wife and I attended a fund raiser that had us dressing up like it was the 80s and dancing to music from the 70s, 80s, and early 90s. The event raised almost $4,000 for the School Breakfast Program, which gives nourishing morning meals to kids who might otherwise have nothing in their bellies at the beginning of the day.

Good cause, successful achievement, great party.

My wife and I met up with our good friends, Bee and Marc, and we all dressed for the event. Marc dressed fittingly as John Bender, the "criminal" from The Breakfast Club; Bee dressed as she had in that era, ready to attend a Ramones show at CBGB's. Lori donned leg warmers, curled her hair and covered it in spray, added a hat and an 80s-style jacket (though it was severely lacking in shoulder pads). I wore a wig that was fitting for an 80s rock band (and added black eye liner for effect), dug out one of my actual jackets that I bought sometime in the 80s (complete with shoulder pads and turned-up lapels), white t-shirt, jeans, and white sneakers with the tongues turned up.

When I actually lived in the 80s, as a teen, I never dressed up like that. Of all the styles my hair has seen, big 80s hair was never it. I wore sweaters most of the time, and my colours of choice were often grey and black. Not Goth, but black jeans and a grey sweater was an outfit you were likely to see me in.

We danced to Simple Minds, Depeche Mode, Quiet Riot, M.C. Hammer, Bowie, and of course, the final song of the night was "Stairway to Heaven," though we left before the end of the dance. Because, though we danced like it was the 80s, my body succumbed to the 50s.

I did all the moves from when I was in high school, and I did them for about as long as I did them when I was at school dances, longer than I did when I went to clubs in Hull with my friends. When I was in my late teens and 20s, I could dance for a very long time. This weekend, I held out as long but when my body finally had enough, it had more than enough.

I overheated and had to take the wig and jacket off. And then, when I sat down to rest my feet, atrophy set in as my osteoarthritis took over. I could barely walk, let alone dance. As soon as I got home, I sank my feet in a bucket of ice water, and then into a hot tub. Lori massaged my feet and calves as I downed three ALEVE^® tablets. I fell asleep with shooting pains that travelled the length of my legs.

I also slept until 10:30 the next morning.

For most of the next day, I was stiff and sore, and groggy. I napped in the afternoon. I did few chores around the house, making sure not to add to my pain. I walked around the house like a 90-year-old man.

Last night, as I typed these words, I was still tired and a little sore.

It was nice to relive my youth, but I'm too old to maintain it.

Would I do it again?

Absolutely.

But next time, I'm leaving the hair behind, trading the wig for a good drink. At least that way, I can try to blame my pain on the booze.

I'm pretty sure ladies didn't keep cell phones in their back pockets in those days.

 

Music Monday: Someone Somewhere In Summertime

They were one of the best bands of the 80s and they're still going strong.

I have memories of listening to New Gold Dream (81-82-83-84), Simple Minds' 1982 hit album, on my Sony Walkman, walking from my home in Skyline to work, at the Merivale Mall, the volume turned up (probably why I'm losing my hearing now). The unmistakable voice of Jim Kerr, the synthesizers, the solid beats. I would be singing along and I didn't care who heard me.

One of my favourite songs from that album is "Someone Somewhere (in Summertime)." I have always loved the guitar melody and the driving beat. It's a great driving song.

Over the decades, I've all but forgotten it, until we drove up to my in-laws' cottage at Lac Bernard, yesterday. We were listening to a retro-music show on Live 88.5 FM, and I was enjoying hearing some of my favourite music from the 80s: The Smiths, Peter Gabriel, Echo and the Bunnymen, and Simple Minds.

When "Someone Somewhere (in Summertime)" came on, it must have been about 25 years or more since I had last heard it, and memories of my teenage youth came flooding back. And, surprisingly, when Jim Kerr started singing, I sang along, remembering the lyrics, not caring who heard me.

Have a listen. If your remember this song, sing along. If you don't know it, I hope you enjoy it.



Happy Monday!

Music Monday: Don't Walk Past

A couple of months ago, while I was reminiscing about old 80s music, a song came into my head and I immediately checked to see if it was available for download on Google Play.

The song was "Don't Walk Past," by Markham, Ontario, band, Blue Peter. In 1983, this song was popular among my close friends, in high school. I owned the album, Falling, and I think I played the vinyl disk until the grooves wore out. In the days of mixed audio cassettes, I made sure this song featured prominently.

On my smartphone, "Don't Walk Past" is now part of the rotation.

Earlier this month, as Midge Ure wrapped up his stellar show at the Black Sheep Inn, his promoter came on stage and asked the audience if they would be interested in seeing some performers, who were contemporaries of Midge, play at the Black Sheep. These 80s-era performers included Howard Jones, Chalk Circle, and Blue Peter.

I almost blew out my vocal chords in cheering. Any three of these acts would bring me to the Black Sheep, but considering I had just rediscovered Blue Peter, my enthusiasm erupted uncontrollably. While none of these performers came close to moving and influencing me like Midge Ure, they are part of my musical history, helped contribute to the person that I am today (as far as my tastes in music, at least).

Here's the video. Enjoy. If Blue Peter or any of these other performers make their way to Wakefield, do yourself a favour and see them.



Happy Monday!