Chumba . . .
I can feel myself entering a Bloodshot Records listening fest. Something made me hit AccuTwang at work today, and I’m feeling the need for some Sadies, (I do love those Sadies and wish they’d come south this winter for a visit.) Neko Case, Jon Langford, Trailer Bride, Devil in a Woodpile, Moonshine Willy (I want to marry that bass!) . . . it could be a while before I extract myself from this indugence.
. . . and Wumba?
Damn good thing, because I have two really nasty Chumba Wumba songs stuck obsessively in my head. (This is all Jaffner’s fault.) They need to go, especially “Homophobia. The worst disease. You can’t love who you want to love in times like these!” The other one can’t be repeated in polite company.
Oh joy! AccuRadio has a Rogers & Hammerstein station.
Today I relived my childhood — I whistled a happy tune, washed that man right out of my hair, climbed every mountain, and sang every word of “Impossible!” with Leslie Ann Warren.
Once upon a time, boys and girls, there were no DVDs, not even VCRs! We had to wait for a movie to come on TV at the whim of programmers.
But my dad had this reel-to-reel tape player and hooked it up to record the audio from movies like the Sound of Music, Peter Pan, the Wizard of Oz and that old TV Cinderella movie with the wonderful songs. Every word in every song in those movies is like part of our DNA from listening to them over and over again. (Does anyone remember the rubber stoppers that held the reels on the machine? My absolute favorite toy as a child.)