April 20th may not be a federal holiday but we're assuming that’s just because the government spaced on the date. Of course, we have it circled on our calendar. And of course, we have a playlist to mark the occasion.

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As usual, we've got some history first, mostly about the song "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)" but with the usual trivial tangents, including the one below…

What's a Hero?

420 is a celebration of all things green. The annual weed-smoker's holiday commemorates the 1971 gathering of five stoners from a high school in San Rafael, all in search of a lost cannabis crop somewhere in the woods near their town.

They never found the mythical herb, but they discovered something far greater—the true meaning of friendship. Just kidding. Actually, they sparked a tradition that is now observed by slackers the world over. And I'm a total sucker for tradition.

So how to mark this year's observance? I'll start with a salute to Jeffrey Lebowski...The Dude...The greatest stoner in cinematic history.

Of course, you may disagree, but that's just like, your opinion, man.

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I’m a Lebowski, You’re a Lebowski

The Coen Brothers' 1998 film The Big Lebowski is the pièce de résistance in the marijuana masterpiece theatre. Jeff Bridges stumbles, croaks, and tokes his way through a noirish mystery in early ‘90s Los Angeles, haplessly unraveling the insidious capers of wealthy socialites, sleazy pornographers, and German nihilists. 

Meanwhile, record producer T-Bone Burnett compiles a brilliant soundscape—one that plays with the neurodivergent eclecticism of your brain on buds.

Perhaps no moment nails it harder than the scene featuring "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)" by Kenny Rogers and the First Edition.

Yup, that Kenny Rogers. The Gambler. The guy with the chicken roasters. Famous for his AOR country radio dominance in the 70s and 80s, Kenny’s breakout hit was an otherwise uncharacteristic psychedelic epic with searing guitar licks, backwards looping, and mind-bending lyrics. 

But where did it come from?

What’s a Pederast, Walter?

In 1967, the increasingly influential country songwriter Mickey Newbury composed “Just Dropped In” and handed it over to Jerry Lee Lewis. It had been nearly a decade since Jerry Lee married his 14-year-old cousin. He would soon make a full and successful transition into a career as a country music lifer. But at the time, his career was still pretty much in the toilet.

The November 1967 release went nowhere. In fact, though Jerry Lee recorded the original version in May, an otherwise obscure R&B singer beat him to the punch. Teddy Hill & the Southern Soul released their version in October.

A Good Man...And Thorough

While Teddy Hill didn’t make the charts either, his version may have reached the ears of Kenny Rogers. He entered Valentine Recording Studio in California that exact same month with The First Edition and a few ace studio sessioneers. 

The sessions were overseen by producer, composer and studio prodigy Mike Post. Just 22 at the time, Post would land his first Grammy the next year for Best Instrumental Arrangement with Mason Williams’ “Classical Gas.”

Today, Post is nothing short of a legend in the TV Theme genre, responsible for the iconic title sequences for, among many others, Law & Order, The A-Team, The Rockford Files, Magnum, P.I. and, my personal favorite, Hill Street Blues.

But I digress.

The Occasional Acid Flashback

Post had the idea of opening “Just Dropped In” with a backwards looping guitar. The great Glen Campbell just dropped in to play the red hot electric leads. 

Allegedly, the song was originally conceived as a cautionary tale against LSD. It has opposite effect here.

It also gave Kenny Rogers his first hit.

Throwing Rocks Tonight!

Though the First Edition would soon find success in the country market, “Just Dropped In” was a mainstream Billboard Top 10 upon its release in 1968.

In fact, so popular was the song that Kenny Rogers and the First Edition even performed it on prime time television during The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour. 

30 Years of Beautiful Tradition

Over the next three decades, “Just Dropped In” was covered by artists from nearly every genre. Highlights include a soulful rendition by Bettye LaVette (1968), a post-punk deconstruction from Die Haut and Nick Cave (1988) and an angular Britpop take from Supergrass (1995).

But of course, it gained its widest visibility when T-Bone Burnett and Jackie Treehorn used it as the featured song in Jeffrey Lebowski's XXX-inspired dream sequence—Gutterballs. 

(Certainly, that’s the first time I heard the song.)

As a testament to the residual popularity inspired by Lebowski, far more covers have been recorded since 1998 than in the 30 years prior, including versions by Mojo Nixon, Willie Nelson, Sharon Jones, and Tom Jones. 

And of course, it wouldn't be a holiday without a playlist, so here goes...

I Am The Walrus…or, if you’re not into the whole brevity thing…A very complicated case…a lotta ins…a lotta outs…lotta what-have-yous.

I’m not gonna tell you how to listen to this one. But I will say that if you're doing it right, you will get the munchies. 

What’s with today, today? It’s Rex Manning Day, of course.

In 1995, Regency Enterprises released Empire Records, a movie about 24 hours in the lives of quirky alternative teens working at an independent compact disc store. The events of the film take place on April 8th.

The date was chosen to honor the late Kurt Cobain, whose passing was discovered on this day exactly one year prior. I mention it here because it’s a fact. But I exclude it from this list below because it’s not fun.

Also, we mustn't dwell... no, not today. Not on Rex Manning Day.

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10 Fun Facts About Empire Records

1. The fictional Empire Records is located somewhere in Delaware. But don’t worry. It’s not actually there. There’s still no good reason to go to Delaware.

   

2. The actual Empire Records set was fabricated out of an existing bar on Front Street in Wilmington, North Carolina.

3. Screenwriter Carol Heikkinen was inspired to write the script for Empire Records based on her time working at a Tower Records in Phoenix, Arizona.

   

4. Speaking of Arizona, the Gin Blossoms (from Tempe) enjoyed a #9 Billboard Hot 100 hit with the inclusion of “Til I Hear It From You” on the film’s soundtrack.

5. It was one of two charting hits from the soundtrack. Edwyn Collins, former frontman for Scottish post-punk group Orange Juice, scored the biggest hit of his career, reaching #34 with “A Girl Like You”.

6. Critics despised the film. Variety called it a “soundtrack in search of a movie.”

7. The film’s best moment may be the appearance of schlock-thrash-metal legends Gwar. In the scene, Mark (Ethan Embry) enjoys a pot brownie-induced hallucination, is beamed into a Gwar video, and is happily devoured by the band’s World Maggot. It turns out the whole scene was conceived and directed by Embry. He pitched the idea to director Allan Moyle, went to a Gwar concert with a camera crew, and did the whole thing himself.

8. Even Gwar couldn’t save this film from commercial disaster. Empire Records was made on a $10 million budget. It generated just over $300,000 at the box office.

9. Because Regency Enterprises had just invested in this particular teen-oriented movie, the studio passed on Clueless, which netted $57 million for Paramount. Oof.

   

10. At least the soundtrack sold a lot of copies, right? Well, the studio really wanted to secure the participation of the ascendant Gin Blossoms. So they straight up gave the soundtrack rights away to the band’s label. A&M Records landed a charting record (#63 on the Billboard 200) and fared much better with critics than did the filmmakers.

    

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Bonus: Music video director Jordan Dawes was only commissioned to shoot a 17-second clip of Rex Manning’s signature hit “Say No More, Mon Amour”. Clearly inspired by the source material, Dawes just went ahead and made a whole video. And we’re so grateful that he did.

Baseball and rock music have a few things in common. They were both born in America. They're both better outdoors. And event attendance for both has become prohibitively expensive.

But I digress. Opening Day is upon us, which is a perfect excuse to celebrate baseball's occasional cameo appearances in popular music. Whether as an innuendo-laden metaphor, the canonization of a legend, or a celebration of the sport itself, baseball has woven its way through great moments in rock, hip hop, jazz, folk and funk.

Jump to the bottom if you're just here for the tunes.

Or get a quick history on the guy who wrote "Talkin' Baseball" first...

Talkin' Baseball

In 1981, New York-born singer-songwriter Terry Cashman released "Talkin' Baseball." But for a brief visit to the adult contemporary charts, it was not a Billboard hit.

Cashman grew up idolizing Willie Mays and the New York Giants. His best-known song rhapsodizes the Say Hey Kid and baseball's glory days. It was, however, released in the midst of a labor strike which caused the suspension of baseball play for 51 days in the summer of '81. Unfortunate timing, to say the least.

Cashman's song transported fans to a simpler time, but it didn’t make much of an impact on the charts.

And of course, people of a certain age--myself included--first came to know this song through Cashman's 1992 Simpsonian parody, "Talkin' Softball."

Quick Cashman Facts

Though he is best known for his sentimental musings on the National Pastime, Terry Cashman was by then already a seasoned industry veteran with several noteworthy credits on his resume--not to mention a brief minor league stint with a Detroit Tigers affiliate in his rearview.

Born Dennis Minogue, he adopted the name Cashman as a member of a doo wop group called The Chevrons. As the lead tenor, Cashman helped The Chevrons land a minor hit, and a slot on Dick Clark's American Bandstand, with "Lullabye".

The Chevrons disbanded in 1962 when co-founder and lead baritone John "Marty" Trautman was drafted into the army. By 1967, Cashman was part of the folk-pop trio Cashman, Pistilli and West. Their debut album was a minor success, but spawned a major league hit when bubblegum singers Spanky and Our Gang covered their song—"Sunday Will Never Be the Same". It reached #9 on the Billboard Hot 100.

Next up was a group called the Buchanan Brothers (which included nobody named Buchanan). Actually, it was just Cashman, Pistilli and West with a new name. But they scored a small clutch of pretty cool hits between 1969 and 1970, including this one, which reached #61 in the U.S.

Cashman's biggest success, however, would come as a producer. Teaming up with West, Cashman produced every single hit for emergent singer-songwriter Jim Croce. The partnership endured from Croce's breakout record--1972's You Don't Mess Around with Jim--until the singer's tragic death in a 1973 plane crash.

As for his 1981 ode to baseball--it earned Cashman an invitation to 1982's Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony. There, he performed both "Talkin' Baseball" and a song honoring the Hall of Fame called "Cooperstown."

In 2011, the Hall of Fame returned the favor, honoring Cashman for his contributions to the sport.

Night Games, Dollar Dog Days and Business Person's Specials

25 tunes about baseball. This should get you to the top of the 3rd inning at least.

But before we get to all that, let’s do a quick countdown.

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Top 10 Songs to Play on St. Patrick's Day

10. Ween—The Blarney Stone

Two dudes from New Hope, Pennsylvania send up last call at the pub. The Irish brogues are fake but the inebriation seems pretty real. 

9. The Mahones—Shakespeare Road

A Canadian-Irish band formed on St. Patrick’s Day in 1990, the Mahones cited the Pogues as a top influence, nicked a bagpiper from the Dropkick Murphys, and recorded this scrappy alleyway tune in 2012.

8. The Rumjacks—Irish Pub Song

Gaelic by way of Australia, The Rumjacks produced 2010’s “Irish Pub Song” as a protest against the global commercialization of Irish diaspora culture. Seeing as it routinely ranks in the Top 5 for St. Patty’s Day spins with roughly 100 million views on YouTube, I guess it didn’t work.

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7. The Clancy Brothers with Tommy Makem—The Rare Old Mountain Dew

The Clancy Brothers were among the leaders of a global Irish folk-boom in the ‘60s, finding fame as part of the Greenwich Village scene. This ode to Irish moonshine is based on an Irish Street Song called “The Girl I Left Behind”, and was composed by New York theater legend Edward Harrigan. 

6. The Pogues—If I Should Fall from Grace with God

The Pogues actually make explicit mention of "Morning Dew" in their “Fairytale of New York,” which due to its Christmastime theme, is by far the London-born band’s most popular tune. However, the lesser-known title track from the very same 1987 record is this thumping table jig more befitting of St. Patty’s day. 

5. Flogging Molly—If I Ever Leave This World Alive

A Celtic punk band from Los Angeles, Flogging Molly recorded one of the genre’s most heart-wrenching and cathartic gems. Power-pop disguised as Irish punk.

4. The Waterboys—Fisherman’s Blues

The Waterboys were Scottish-born, but relocated to Ireland in the mid-80s. The resulting sessions produced this 1988 epic, a #3 hit on the Modern Rock Billboard chart.

3. Thin Lizzy—Whiskey in the Jar

Volumes have been written about this Irish standard, which likely originated through oral tradition in the 17th century. Dublin-born Thin Lizzy made it into a classic rock staple in 1973.

2. The Dubliners—The Rocky Road to Dublin

The Dubliners formed in 1962 and quickly rose to international renown for their rollicking take on Celtic folk music. Their 1964 version of an Irish traditional—famously referenced throughout James Joyce’s Ulysses—is a strong contender for the definitive take. 

1. Dropkick Murphy’s—Shipping Up to Boston

“Shipping Up to Boston” is perhaps the greatest Celtic punk anthem ever pressed. It is virtually impossible to separate this song from the Irish-American experience, capturing a distinctly ragged and blustery Dublin-esque dissidence.

It is a masterpiece of fewer than 30 words.

And those few words were written by a man from Oklahoma—Woody Guthrie.

Read on for the whole story (or jump to the bottom for your St. Patty's Day Weekend Playlist)...

Shipping Up and Bubbling Under

The Dropkick Murphys rose to prominence in 2006 with their propulsive drum-n-bagpipe stomper, which was featured brilliantly in the opening roll for Martin Scorsese’s The Departed.

Released the prior year on the The Warrior’s Code, "Shipping Up to Boston" propelled the Boston band to #1 on the Billboard’s “Bubbling Under” chart. This means it fell one slot shy of the Hot 100.

“Shipping Up to Boston” did achieve the unusual feat of selling more than 1 million copies without reaching that plateau.

The Departed

Woody Guthrie was born in Okemah, Oklahoma in 1912. His father was a Klansman and his mother suffered from dementia, a result of the neurodegenerative Huntington’s Disease that would also claim Woody’s life in 1967.

Woody Guthrie wasn’t necessarily Irish, but his life had the underpinnings of a classic Irish tragedy. Still, Guthrie never recorded “Shipping Up to Boston.” It was just one of countless handwritten lyrics that the great American songwriter and activist left behind in his premature death.

Exile on Mermaid Ave.

It was rumored at the time of his death that Guthrie left behind a remarkable trove of unpublished songs, stacked away somewhere in his Coney Island home. Indeed, Bob Dylan stood first in line to inherit the material as one who sat bedside to Guthrie in his final days.

Dylan tells an amusing story in his autobiographical Chronicles, Volume 1, wherein he went to retrieve the songs. Woody’s young son Arlo answered the door. Neither he nor the babysitter could locate the box of unpublished lyrics. Dylan left empty-handed.

Years later, Woody's daughter Nora officially undertook the effort to pair her father's songs with the right artists. She contacted British folk singer Billy Bragg, who in turn invited Wilco to join him.

They met in Ireland (by sheer coincidence as it pertains to this article) to record the Guthrie tunes that would make up 1998's excellent Mermaid Avenue.

Still, “Shipping Up to Boston” remained untouched.

Ken Casey Gets a Call

Fortunately, Nora Guthrie remained committed to expanding her father's legacy. Nora's son was a fan of an Irish punk band from Quincy, Massachusetts called the Dropkick Murphys.

Formed in 1996 around lead singer and bassist Ken Casey, the band has undergone numerous lineup changes. Casey is the only original member to remain in the band throughout its history.

It was thus that in the early 2000s, Nora invited Ken Casey to sift through her father’s remaining archives. Among other things, he spotted the line “I’m a sailor peg, and I lost my leg.”

The whole thing was written on a loose fragment of paper.

At first, the imagery struck Casey as funny. But the reference to Boston remained with him.

Still, he didn’t immediately slate it for recording. He filed it away in his brain, instead putting music to Guthrie’s “Gonna Be a Blackout Tonight” and releasing it on 2003’s Blackout.

Two years later, the Dropkick Murphys were in the studio toying with a wordless composition for their upcoming fifth album. The image of the sailor with the wooden leg popped back into Casey’s head.

If Casey was amused by the image at first, the result was no novelty. “Shipping Up to Boston” is at once menacing and melodic; ferocious and delicious—like what happens when you drop a shot of Jameson and Bailey’s into a half-pint of Guinness.

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Speaking of which, here's a soundtrack for your weekend celebration. Happy St. Patty's Day!

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In 1981, California-based power pop band Tommy Tutone released the enduring one-hit wonder–“867-5309/Jenny.”

In addition to topping Billboard’s Hot Mainstream Rock Tracks chart, “Jenny” enumerated the single most famous phone number in radio history.

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According to songwriters Jim Keller and Alex Call, both the number and the titular protagonist were fictional.

But some pop songs have real-world consequences. And so it was for those who owned this previously anonymous phone number. 

This is their story:

Lorene Burns from Lakeland, Alabama—205-867-5309

According to a 1982 article from the Lakeland Ledger, Lorene Burns owned 205-867-5309. Suddenly, in May of 1982, strangers began inundating Ms. Burns with calls.

Most callers professed to be in search of a good time.

Burns reported that calls would begin just after school hours on most days. Then, the phone would ring well into the middle of the night. 

“When we’d first get calls at 2 or 3 in the morning, my husband would answer the phone. He can’t hear too well. They’d ask for Jenny, and he’d say ‘Jimmy doesn’t live here any more.'” 

After receiving 2 to 3 dozen calls a day, the Burns family disconnected their old number. But as of late ’82, Lorene Burns was still mad as hell about the ordeal.

Quoth Lorene, “Tommy Tutone was the one who had the record. I’d like to get hold of his neck and choke him.”

Charles and Maurine Shambarger from West Akron, Ohio—216-867-5309

The phone calls began with a trickle in late 1981 as Tommy Tutone’s song began to pick up steam on the West Coast. By the time it had cracked the national Top 40 in early ‘82, Charles and Maurine Shambarger were drowning in phone calls. 

According to the Akron Beacon Journal, the Shambargers hadn’t heard the song, so they couldn’t understand why callers were obsessed with finding Jenny. They called the phone company in hopes of tracing the prank callers. Ohio Bell hadn’t heard the song either. They explained to the Shambargers that “We don’t know what to make of this. The calls are coming from all over the place.”

The Shambargers only learned the reason for their plight from one of their daily callers. An empathetic 2AM drunk-dialer said, “Man, I feel sorry for you. Your phone number is on the radio all the time.”

The Shambargers gave up and disconnected the number. They returned to a quiet life of anonymity. 

Principal Johnny Whitesides from Gastonia, North Carolina—704-867-5309

In the spring of 1982, Gastonia, N.C., Southwest Junior High School Principal Johnny Whitesides struggled to comprehend the reason his school’s unlisted number was suddenly receiving as many as 200 calls a day, from all over the country.

Unlike Lorene Burns and the Shambargers, Johnny Whitesides was actually compensated for his troubles. After learning of the song’s existence, Whitesides managed to get in touch with the Tutone team.

With the support of local WROQ radio in Charlotte and Columbia Records, Tommy Tutone actually sponsored a dance for the Southwest student body.

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Anonymous Woman from Chicago, Illinois—312-867-5309

As “Jenny” reached #4 on the Billboard Hot 100 in May of ’82, a woman in Chicago gladly relinquished her number to the local WLS radio station.

Their phone began ringing off the hook the minute their new number went live. By their own report, WLS logged 22,000 calls in just four days.

Presumably, the line became too hot to handle even for WLS. Today, when you call the Chicago number, you’ll hear a prerecorded message inviting you to rent the “Jenny Line.” 

Jeffrey Steinberg from Philadelphia PA—800/888-867-5309

At one point, a Philadelphia-based business owner named Jeffery Steinberg owned both toll-free versions of the number. He had acquired the numbers in the early ‘90s as part of a pizza delivery promotion, but ultimately rented the numbers out to interested companies and campaigns.

In his estimation, as of 2004, the numbers were worth millions. At the time, Steinberg claimed to have rejected a $1 million offer for his number from a national weight loss company.

That said, calling the 1-800 number today reveals a disconnected line.

The 1-888 number leads to a vague automated menu with a not altogether clear raison d’être. No mention of Jenny is made.

Jenny Don’t Change Your Number

In fact, quite a few would-be Jennys disconnected in the immediate aftermath of Tommy Tutone’s MTV-era smash.

By 1983, 97 of 106 owners had unplugged from the suddenly famous phone number.

That said, there are no rules against assigning the number today. Snopes reported in the early 2000s that the number was intentionally unassigned in many area codes, but that at least a dozen or more were still active. That number is likely lower today.

In fact, it’s scarce enough that holders of the number have occasionally attempted to auction the famous digits on eBay. It turns out that you technically don’t own your phone number—the phone company does. So while you can’t sell it, you can sell a business attached to the number. 

But in reality, the vast majority of area codes lead to dead ends. Jenny has indeed changed her number.

On the other hand, if you live in the Minneapolis metro area (312) and you’d like to enlist the “legends at Paul Bunyan Plumbing and Drains” for your frozen pipe repair needs, the number is easy to remember. 

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Bonus Playlist

Songs about phones…

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I’ve struggled to focus this week.

My head and my heart have been with the brave people fighting for our freedoms in the Twin Cities. In the summer of George Floyd, they showed the rest of us what a bunch of badass motherfuckers they are. Tonight, they’ll do it in -4 degrees.

The people of Minnesota are showing us how to save our democracy if we care to. They are standing together with love, joy, and fury, and they are defending their homes against an invasion by masked thugs whose primary objectives are to sow terror, demonstrate unchecked authority, and deliver violent political retribution.

But Minnesota has always been a state of badass motherfuckers – the birthplace of Eddie Cochran and Bob Dylan; ground zero for grunge before it had a name (the Replacements, Husker Du, Soul Asylum); home of the Purple One.

We see you, Minnesota. You’ve always been cool.

But you’re on a whole other level right now.

As I walk through my own quiet neighborhood in my Blue state to pick my child up from her sweet, safe little school, as I wave to my neighbors and daydream about the weekend, I wonder how much longer before they’re here. How much longer before they’re abducting children, ripping people from their cars, and forcing their way into homes here?

Minnesota is a warning to us all. But let it also be a warning to those who would rule us. There are way more of us than there are of you.

This is in gratitude to those on the streets of Minnesota who are putting their bodies between us and the bad guys. You’re on the front lines of a fight that affects us all.

Be safe. Look out for each other.

Here’s some of that badass Minnesota shit…

The Nashville A-Team is an umbrella sobriquet for the loose collective of ace session musicians who gravitated to the country music capital of the world in the 50s, 60s and 70s. And though many of the musicians who formed this collective were indeed country players, they would extend their services far and wide into the worlds of jazz, blues, and rock.

Members of the A-Team would form lasting session relationships with performers as diverse as Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Bob Dylan, and Neil Young.

Some would go on to their own solo fame including stone-cold legends like Chet Atkins, Floyd Cramer, Earl Scruggs, and Vassar Clements. Volumes have already been written on their contributions to country, bluegrass, and popular music.

Instead, the focus of today’s story is the small but sweet collection of albums released by the collective itself. The several dozen musicians who crossed paths in the Nashville scene were indeed prolific in both solo and supporting roles.

However, some of the most enjoyable distillations of their talents can be found on albums by two somewhat unheralded progressive country combos – Area Code 615 and Barefoot Jerry. With that in mind, we’ll take the opportunity to herald them here.

Area Code 615

Named for Nashville’s telephone area code, 615 would release only two full-length LPs of virtuosic if not quite groundbreaking music. But the story of their origin is ultimately about the coming together of countless musical threads.

Charlie McCoy was a topflight harmonica player and multi-instrumentalist whose iconic harpwork can be heard on “Roy Orbison’s “Oh, Pretty Woman”, Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Boxer”, and most notably, on Bob Dylan’s late-60s Nashville Trilogy – (Blonde on Blonde, John Wesley Harding, Nashville Skyline).

And really, the story begins with Charlie, who first met Bob Dylan when producer and mutual friend Bob Johnston flew him to New York for the Highway 61 sessions in 1965. Dylan was so impressed with Charlie’s impromptu guitar work on “Desolation Row” that he decided to record his next record in Nashville, largely against his record label’s advice.

Dylan even enlisted McCoy to assemble the band for his new album.

This was a pretty big deal for the 25 year old session musician from West Virginia. He brought together local reliables including Kenny Buttrey, Wayne Moss, Mac Gayden, Hargus Robbins, Jerry Kennedy, Henry Strzelecki, Joe South, and Wayne Butler. Joined by Al Kooper and future Band guitarist Robbie Robertson, they recorded the epic and critically fawned-upon Blonde on Blonde.

Dylan retained the services of Charlie McCoy and drummer Kenny Buttrey for the following two records–John Wesley Harding (1967), and Nashville Skyline (1969).

Meanwhile…

• Nashville native, guitarist and singer Mac Gayden, who began his career as a member of Charlie McCoy and the Escorts, co-wrote the oft-covered 1967 Robert Knight hit “Everlasting Love.”

• Wayne Moss, another West Virginia native, befriended McCoy and Buttrey in 1959 and began taking on session work shortly thereafter. His most iconic guitar parts can be heard on Roy Orbison’s “Oh, Pretty Woman” and Dolly Parton’s “Jolene.”

• Drummer Kenny Buttrey began his career as a professional musician at the age of 11 and was touring in Chet Atkins’ band by the time he was 14. In an incredibly prolific career, his best known drum parts include Dylan’s “Lay Lady Lay”, Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville” and Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold.” In fact, beginning with his collaboration on Neil Young’s Harvest, Buttrey would enjoy a fruitful and ongoing association with Young. At one point in the early ‘70s, he was even part of a live backing group that Young dubbed the Stray Gators.

That’s really just the tip of the iceberg for this crew of musicians. But in 1969, they would record an album that distills everything that made these guys so vital in their time and place. Their self-titled debut includes only a few originals alongside a batch of Beatles covers, a well-earned nod to Dylan, and a version of Mason Williams’ “Classical Gas” that is perhaps better known to U.K. listeners through its use in a series of Guinness Commercials.

With a second album – Trip Through the Country – Area Code 615 only reinforced its across-the-pond profile. The instrumental “Stone Fox Chase” actually served as the theme song for The Old Grey Whistle Test on the BBC from 1971 all the way through 1983.

In the same year that they recorded their second and final record, most of Area Code 615 also backed Linda Ronstadt on her sophomore 1970 release – Silk Purse.

In addition to sharing musicians, both Area Code 615 albums, Silk Purse, and Neil Young’s Harvest are all produced by Elliot Mazer. Mazer would go on to produce numerous Neil Young albums. Other notable Mazer credits include Cheap Thrills by Big Brother and the Holding Company and The Last Waltz by the Band.

• Mac Gayden – Lead guitar, vocals (died 2025)

• Charlie McCoy – Harmonica, vocals

• Bobby Thompson – Banjo, guitar (died 2005)

• Wayne Moss – Guitar, bass

• Buddy Spicher – Fiddle, viola, cello

• David Briggs – Keyboards

• Ken Lauber – Keyboards

• Norbert Putnam – Bass, cello

• Kenny Buttrey – Drums (died 2004)

• Weldon Myrick – Pedal steel guitar (died 2014)

• Elliot Mazer – Co-producer

Barefoot Jerry

Ever tireless and prolific, many of Area Code 615’s alumni moved immediately from Silk Purse to the debut record for Barefoot Jerry. Together, they recorded 6 proper albums between 1971 and 1977.

During their run, Barefoot Jerry would perform live extensively. But their lone chart entry – “You Can’t Get Off With Your Shoes On” – topped out at #109 in 1975.

They would also make two minor country chart appearances backing their friend Charlie McCoy on “Boogie Woogie” (#22 in 1974) and “Summit Ridge Drive” (#98 in 1977).

In true Nashville A-Team spirit, the lineup of Barefoot Jerry would shift constantly as members pursued opportunities elsewhere. Wayne Moss was the only original member to remain with the group throughout its duration, and even carried the nickname Barefoot Jerry into his solo career after the ensemble disbanded in 1977.

• Wayne Moss, guitar, keyboards, vocals, bass

• Mac Gayden, lead guitar, vocals, slide guitar

• Kenneth A. Buttrey, drums

• John Harris, keyboards

• Terry Dearmore

• Jim Colvard

• Dave Doran

• Si Edwards

• Warren Hartman

• Russ Hicks

• Kenny Malone

• Charlie McCoy

• Fred Newell

While the end of Barefoot Jerry also marks the end of an era for the Nashville A-Team, the members of this southern wrecking crew recorded or contributed to too many hits to name – especially because it was not uncommon for their session contributions to go uncredited. That said, here’s a small sampler:

“Linus and Lucy” soon gained fame for its inclusion in the instant-classic 1965 TV Special, A Charlie Brown Christmas. And of course, it became the key theme for the entire Peanuts franchise.

But for my money, “Linus and Lucy” is the scent of fir needles, the twinkle of string lights, and the taste of sugar cookies set to music.

To quote Vince Guaraldi’s biographer, Derrick Bang:

“Rarely has an entertainment icon been so quickly—and firmly—welded to a musical composition...Guaraldi defined the Peanuts sound, and it’s just as true today as it was in the 1960s. The compositions themselves are uniformly sparkling; it’s as if the jazz pianist and his trio were waiting for this precise inspiration”.

By the time Vince conceived this giddy holiday gem, he was already more than a decade into his career.

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Take Five…Or Ten Years

In the 1950s, the West Coast Jazz scene was swinging. San Francisco and Los Angeles had become hotbeds for a downtempo take on bebop called Cool Jazz. Guys like Dave Brubeck, Paul Desmond, Chet Baker, and Gerry Mulligan infused jazz with a calming Pacific breeze.

That breeze also allowed free cross-pollination with a growing growing Latin Jazz movement, led by players like Stan Getz and Cal Tjader. Vince Guaraldi found his signature sound in the space between.

Vibraphonist Cal Tjader would play a major role in Guaraldi’s self-discovery. Though the Missouri-born Tjader was not himself of Latin origin, he often rostered his bands with seasoned Cuban musicians, and thus became a critical figure in the proliferation of Mambo and Salsa.

Tjader actually began his career as part of a more traditional jazz combo alongside Dave Brubeck and future longtime bandmate Paul Desmond.

But in 1951, Dave Brubeck was injured during a diving accident in Hawaii. Tjader needed a replacement on keys. He recruited young Vince, who was fresh off a brief tour of duty as an army cook in the Korean War.

As part of Tjader’s band, Vince worked alongside a complement of Afro-Cuban musicians like Mongo Santamaria and Willie Bobo as well as pathbreaking West Coast jazz luminaries like guitarist Eddie Duran and flautist Paul Horn.

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Cast Your Fate to the Wind

Guaraldi developed a distinctive style – something that bounced between the gentle warmth of the San Francisco sound and the sprightly, playful energy of Latin Jazz. By the middle of the decade, Vince was headlining performances with his own combo.

He also proved a naturally gifted arranger, as evidenced by his 1962 full-length LP, Jazz Impressions of Black Orpheus. At the time, Guaraldi was widely respected in jazz circles but was not otherwise a household name.

Black Orpheus would change this. Like many of his contemporaries, Guaraldi found himself increasingly drawn to the exciting new sounds coming out of Brazil. Bossa Nova pioneers like Antonio Carlos Jobim and Luiz Bonfa were suddenly enjoying international acclaim.

Guaraldi intended Black Orpheus as a tribute to both Jobim and Bonfa.

However, Guaraldi included one original composition on an album of covers. The B-Side to Bonfa’s “Samba de Orpheus”, “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” became a surprise hit in 1962 thanks to organic support from radio DJs.

It achieved an unlikely feat for a jazz composition — reaching #22 on the Billboard Hot 100 and earning Guaraldi that year’s Grammy in the original jazz composition category. But the song’s most significant achievement was reaching the ears of a producer named Lee Mendelson.

Vince and Charlie

Mendelson was working on a documentary called A Boy Named Charlie Brown. Upon hearing “Cast Your Fate to the Wind”, he was convinced that he’d found the musician to score his new project.

When Mendelson reached out to him in 1963, Vince jumped at the opportunity. Only a few days later, Vince called Mendelson with something new. The piano player was so unable to contain his excitement that he insisted on playing “Linus and Lucy” for Mendelson directly over the phone.

Mendelson would later recall the moment:

“It just blew me away. It was so right, and so perfect, for Charlie Brown and the other characters. I have no idea why, but I knew that song would affect my entire life. There was a sense, even before it was put to animation, that there was something very, very special about that music.”

Though the music was indeed special, Mendelson was unable to secure a sponsor for his documentary. It was shelved, but in 1964, Guaraldi would release Jazz Impressions of a Boy Named Charlie Brown (which included the original “Linus and Lucy”) to minor effect.

Good Grief

In spite of their disappointment over the shelved documentary, Peanuts creator Charles Schulz and Lee Mendelson were both convinced that Guaraldi was the missing piece of the puzzle. So they brought him back for 1965’s A Charlie Brown Christmas.

That turned out to be a pretty good idea.

Guaraldi re-recorded “Linus and Lucy”, rendering the definitive version of the oft-reimagined composition. He also added future holiday standards “Skating” and “Christmas Time Is Here Again.”

Without a lyricist on hand and under a tight deadline, Mendelson penned the lyrics for the latter on the back of an envelope in 15 minutes.

The tight deadline would actually favor the team producing Peanuts. Mendelson remembers that the response from CBS producers during pre-screening was so negative that he was sure they’d have pulled the plug if it wasn’t already scheduled to go live the next week.

Network brass thought the pacing was slow, the animation was crude, and the music didn’t seem to match the action. But with sponsorship from Coca-Cola locked up, they went ahead with the airing.

Following an episode of Gilligan’s Island on primetime, the December 9th 1965 premier beamed into more than 15 million homes (an estimated 45% of the viewing audience that night). It placed 2nd only to Bonanza in the ratings. The TV special received nearly universal critical praise for its originality, sensitivity, and faithfulness to the comic strip.

Both the special and the soundtrack became instant hits. CBS immediately ordered an additional four Charlie Brown holiday specials. Vince Guaraldi would be attached to each one, as would the umbrella theme for the now massively successful Peanuts TV franchise, “Linus and Lucy.”

Left My Heart In San Francisco

The mid-60s delivered Vince Guaraldi to mainstream success and financial security. But he ultimately preferred to spend his time in his beloved Bay Area. How embedded was he in the scene?

Dig this shot of Vince from the back cover of the Grateful Dead’s 1969 album Aoxomoxoa.

Vince may have remained close to home, but he continued to tread new ground musically. His work from this point forward would be inextricably linked to Charlie Brown, who was now a big-time, Emmy-winning TV star. Vince would use this medium to widen his own sound, incorporating elements of funk, fusion, and rock into new TV specials.

Most notable among them:

It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown (1966)

A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving (1973)

It’s the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown (1974)

Charlie Brown Blues

On the morning of February 6, 1976, Vince awoke complaining of stomach pains. That afternoon, he visited a nearby studio to record the soundtrack for It’s Arbor Day, Charlie Brown.

That evening, he arrived for a performance at Butterfield’s Nightclub in Menlo Park, California. He played his first set, concluding with his take on the Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby.”

He returned to his room to rest between sets but collapsed suddenly and could not be revived.

His death by coronary at just 47 shocked his Bay Area community and devastated his Peanuts family. Guaraldi was well-liked and remembered by those who knew him as a man who was full of energy, optimism and life. Those same qualities are unmistakable in the catalogue he left behind.

In many households, and certainly mine, Charlie Brown specials are essential annual viewing on the holidays. Guaraldi’s contributions are no small reason why.

I don’t usually get autobiographical, but this one hits close to home…like, literally, directly next to my home. I was born in 1980. That was also the year a Philly New Wave band called The Hooters was formed.

My family lived in a Northeast Philly rowhome on the 1200 block of Unruh Ave.

Today, this place feels gray and dulled, like a stack of old magazines left out in the elements.

But I remember it as a warm, colorful neighborhood packed with young families, streets book-ended by local bicycle shops and water ice stands, front lawns simmering in the summer humidity while we grilled hot dogs and waited for 4th of July fireworks.

As it happens, my first 4th of July was also the same night the Hooters played their first live show together. Precocious as I was for a 5-month old, I had no idea they were our neighbors.

Nervous Nights

Actually, the Hooters didn’t live on our street. They just made a huge racket practicing in somebody’s basement there.

My mother loved to tell me how she would be forced to knock on the neighbor’s door and say something to the effect of “Keep it down, you Hooters! I’ve got a sleeping baby over here.”

Sounded true enough. And over the years, I repeated the story frequently but without any real confirmation that the noisy neighbors were the same guys who went on to clock a clutch of killer MTV-era hits in the coming years.

But the Hooters loomed large for me as a Philly kid. There was something reassuring about seeing our local boys wedged between exotica like Prince and Duran Duran on MTV.

Let’s rewind for a moment.

Never Enough

Principal songwriters Rob Hyman (keys) and Erik Bazilian (guitar) met as students at the University of Pennsylvania and began playing together all the way back in 1971. They even released two full-length late-’70s LPs for Arista as a group called Baby Grand. Both were produced by friend and fellow Penn alum Rick Chertoff.

At their worst, they could be mistaken for a Styx side project.

At their best, they aspire to the blue-eyed soul of fellow Philadelphians, Hall & Oates.

Either way, these records don’t particularly hint at what was to come. And the less said about the confusingly off-topic album art, the better.

One Step Beyond

After their albums made minimal impact, Baby Grand disbanded. However, the core of Hyman and Bazilian remained intact, as did their friendship with producer Rick Chertoff.

Three years later, Hyman and Bazilian recruited Dave Uosikkinen (drums), John Kuzma (guitar) and Bobby Woods (bass) from another local band called Hot Property.

They became the Hooters in 1980. Rob Hyman – a lifelong collector of Jamaican records – says he was inspired to form the new band after seeing Madness in concert. The British two-toners were already enjoying charting success with their blend of New Wave, ska and reggae. Hyman wanted to put his own local Philly spin on the formula.

The Hooters took their name from a specific brand of melodica, an instrument popularized through its use in reggae. The handheld synth would figure heavily into their sound.

All You People In The Street

The Hooters played Philly’s club scene extensively, building a dedicated following with strong support from the city’s most influential rock radio station, 93.3 WMMR.

One of their biggest champions was a San Francisco-born DJ and deadhead named Pierre Robert. Pierre arrived in Philly in 1981 and never left. I mention it here because this legendary DJ remained with WMMR until his sudden passing this week at age 70.

During his 45 years in Philly, Pierre was the friendliest face in the crowd at every local show and a tireless champion of Philly artists like Hall & Oates, Low Cut Connie, and The Hooters.

So it was that an outpouring of local support landed the Hooters a memorable opening slot for the Who during their 1982 visit to Philly’s JFK Stadium.

At the time, the Hooters had already released several local singles including an early cut of “All You Zombies”.

These singles would form the basis for their first full-length LP – 1983’s independently released Amore.

The Hooters became especially well-known in these early years for their fiery live performances. But Rob Hyman, pulling double-duty as the band’s manager, was suffering from a mild case of burnout. This led to a brief hiatus for the band in 1983.

Suitcase of Memories

That same year, Rick Chertoff was working alongside a promising young New Wave singer named Cyndi Lauper, recently erstwhile from a failed venture called Blue Angel.

Lauper managed to secure a deal with a small Epic Records imprint called Portrait. Chertoff invited his old friends Erik and Rob in as session players on her upcoming solo debut–She’s So Unusual.

It was during these sessions that Rob and Cyndi sat at a piano together and conceived “Time After Time”.

It would be the second single off her first record. The first single, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”, was also written by a Philly-based singer. Robert Hazard recorded the original in 1979.

With her cover version, Lauper landed her first charting hit. She followed it with the release of “Time After Time”, scored her first #1, and became a defining personality of the MTV era.

Day By Day

Lauper’s success inspired Hyman to relaunch the Hooters, replacing original members Kuzma and Woods with former members of Robert Hazard’s backing band, the Heroes — Rob Miller (bass) and John Lilley (guitar). (Rob Miller was injured in a car accident shortly thereafter and replaced by Andy King.)

This lineup of the Hooters signed to Columbia records and made their major label debut in 1985 with Nervous Night. Like Lauper’s debut, this one produced four major charting hits with “And We Danced,” “Day By Day”, “Where do the Children Go?” and a shiny new version of “All You Zombies”.

And We Danced

1985 marked the peak of Hootermania (at least in Southeastern Pennsylvania). Their major-label debut garnered extensive MTV airplay, Rob Hyman received a Grammy nomination for his work with Lauper, and Rolling Stone named the Hooters the best new band of the year.

They even played the opening slot on the Philly side of Live Aid, much to the chagrin of concert organizer, Bob Geldof. The former Boomtown Rats singer and reputed jerkface was quoted as inquiring, “Who the fuck are the Hooters?”

Tons of people would learn the answer to that question over the next year. Live Aid kicked off the era of the massive benefit concert, and the Hooters were all over that shit.

In 1986, the Hooters performed in front of gigantic throngs of humanity at the Louisiana Superdome for America Rocks, a concert benefiting the restoration of the Statue of Liberty; and at A Conspiracy of Hope, a benefit concert on behalf of Amnesty International, held at Giants Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey.

Through it all, they also remained a local fixture.

Satellite

The Hooters toured extensively throughout the late ‘80s and early ‘90s with notable runs in Australia and Europe.

They even joined self-proclaimed fan Roger Waters for a 1990 staging of Pink Floyd’s The Wall.

In 1995, after 15 years and 3 million albums sold, the Hooters disbanded and parted as friends. That same year, Erik Bazilian crashed the charts with a new arrival named Joan Osborne. Her recording of Bazilian’s “One of Us” reached #4 on the Billboard Hot 100 and received three Grammy nods that year. Osborne’s debut album was produced, as you might have guessed, by Rick Chertoff.

One Way Home

In 2007, the Hooters reunited and they remain extremely active in the Philadelphia music scene. Over the last decade, the members of the Hooters have shared the stage with other local legends like Todd Rundgren and Hall & Oates, as well as next generation stars like Philly’s powerful piano-pounding party band, Low Cut Connie.

In fact, it was at a Low Cut Connie show when I finally got the chance to verify the story my mother told me all those years ago. I met Hooters original drummer Dave Uosikkinen directly after an absolutely killer performance.

I shook his hand and told him I lived on Unruh Ave 45 years ago. A smile of recognition came across his face.

“Oh man,” he said. “We had some times on Unruh.”

*Denouement

The section above was originally intended as the end of the article. Then on Wednesday, October 29th, Pierre Robert passed away suddenly at age 70. To his final days, he was full of life and full of love for our city and its music.

If you lived in Philly and you went out and saw music here, you saw Pierre. He was more than our voice on the radio. He was out there on the floor with us. As I began writing this story earlier in the week, I had no idea Pierre Robert was attending his last live performance.

On October 25th, Pierre took the stage at the Keswick Theater in Glenside, PA to introduce his old friends, The Hooters.

Rest In Peace, Good Citizen.

The eccentric blues singer claimed to have sired 57 children with a combination of 6 wives, assorted girlfriends and unnumbered groupies. This makes Hawkins the most prolific procreator in rock history.   

But he was so much more than a repository for super-powered sperm. Screamin’ Jay was also the original shock rocker. 

He began performances by emerging from a coffin.

He wore a bone in his nose.

He kept close company with a skull named Henry. T

Truly, though, it was his throaty, gutbucket delivery and schlocky, horror-themed songs that distinguished Screamin’ Jay.  

His weirdness and originality were without precedent.

Just Jay, No Screamin’

Born in Cleveland in 1929, Jay originally aspired to become an opera singer in the fashion of his hero, Paul Robeson.

When he fell short of this ambition, he made the transition into blues, performing in a flamboyant but musically straightforward style. 

Then, in 1956, he and his band entered the studio with the intention of recording a love song called “I Put a Spell On You.” The producer had other ideas. He stuffed the band full of chicken and ribs, got them hammered on booze, and started rolling tape.

In an inebriated haze, Jay snarled and grunted his way through a song that he had originally intended as a ballad.  Instead, he produced one of the most primal sounds ever to haunt a record.  

Apparently, he was so drunk that he didn’t even recall the session. It was, however, the day that Jay Hawkins became Screamin’ Jay.

“Spell” Becomes a Standard

Screamin’ Jay’s version reportedly sold over a million copies but never made the charts. This is likely because numerous radio stations banned the song for its apparent allusions to cannibalism.

Still, the song would become a future Billboard staple, charting for Nina Simone (1965), Creedence Clearwater Revival (1968), and Brian Ferry (1993).  

For Screamin’ Jay, the song would be a reputation-setter. The overt sexuality and unrestrained lunacy of the performance would become his template. When legendary Cleveland DJ Alan Freed offered him $300 to emerge from a coffin on stage, an accompanying persona was born.

But as the story goes, that’s not the only thing that was born. 

Jay Helps Populate the Planet

Screamin’ Jay spent the next several decades crisscrossing Europe and the U.S. on tour. His favorite offstage pastime was convening with the local girls to tremendous reproductive effect. 

Enjoying a mid-level cult status as well as the admiration of protégées like Captain Beefheart, Tom Waits, Dr. John and Arthur Brown, Screamin’ Jay spent his latter years gracing films, touring with younger artists and indulging in his image as a one-of-a-kind weirdo.

To wit, he once performed his most questionable song–“Constipation Blues”–whilst sitting on a toilet. I don’t have the video for you here, but don’t worry. The song’s still pretty disgusting all on its own.

Apparently, these antics never got in the way of his side-hustle–populating the world with his offspring.  

And yet, the touring musician spoke often to friends and acquaintances about his regrets as a father. He wished that he had gotten to know his children. In his defense, that’s a lot of birthdays to remember.  

Jay’s Kids

Screamin’ Jay spent his last years living in Paris and remained a popular concert draw throughout Europe.  

He received considerable appreciation and recognition during his lifetime for instilling Rock and Roll with a sense of humor and horror. Then, when he died at the age of 70 in 2000, the executor of his will began the work of fulfilling his final wish.

The executor set up a website and began contacting Jay’s legions of offspring. They received over 400 submissions by people who believed that Jay might have been their father. The “Jay’s Kids” endeavor helped to identify his children and bring several dozen of them together for an event honoring their late father.

Apologies for the purple prose. But Mazzy Star has an otherworldly quality that does make one wax poetic.

When the alt-rock combo from Los Angeles topped out at #44 on the Billboard Hot 100, their sole entry in pop lure was a misty, meditative daydream, a gentle bit of magic in a time of angst and heavy riffage.

And that was basically it. Mazzy Star’s hazy, lost-in-love single was the band’s lone flirtation with stardom. Isolated though it may have been, it was not a momentary lapse of reason. The moment was a decade in the making.

The Paisley Underground

This story begins in Los Angeles of the early ‘80s. Punk and New Wave were already dominant forces in popular music. A number of bands concentrated in L.A. shared punk’s DIY attitude, but also worshipped at the altar of psychedelic pioneers like The Byrds, The Doors, and Love.

This scene proved a hotbed for bands that would mostly attain cult status (The 3 O’Clock, Dream Syndicate, The Long Ryders, Green on Red). Only one of these bands would go on to major mainstream success (The Bangles).

But arguably the finest single record to emerge from this blink-of-an-eye moment is the debut album from The Rain Parade. The Rain Parade was the brainchild of L.A. native, guitarist, and future co-founder of Mazzy Star, David Roback.

The Rain Parade

Roback’s first noteworthy band was called Unconscious, and included future Bangle Susanna Hoffs and his brother Steven Roback. They never recorded an album together, instead splintering into two of the scene’s most important pillars.

1981 saw the formation of both the Bangles and the Rain Parade. While the former would go on to massive MTV-era success, the latter would record just one landmark album before splintering. The Rain Parade released their full-length debut LP – Emergency third Rail Power Trip – in 1983.

It didn’t make much of a blip on the pop radar. But it proved one of the era’s most enduring records, lodged perfectly between the incense-and-peppermints pop of its closest influences and the dream-pop that it would directly inform.

It also attracted the devotion of a young folk-rock duo called Going Home. Singers Hope Sandoval and Sylvie Gomez followed The Rain Parade intently. Gomez managed to slip backstage one night and hand delivered the duo’s demo to Roback.

But after just one album, Roback departed. His brother and bandmates did their best on a follow-up EP and one more full-length in 1985. But for a few highlights, the writing was on the wall. The Rain Parade folded by 1986.

Rainy Day, Clay, and Opal

Roback proved quite the restless journeyman. Upon leaving the Rain Parade after just one album, Roback formed Rainy Day with then-girlfriend Kendra Smith.

Smith had been a member of Dream Syndicate, whose own 1982 record—Days of Wine and Roses—also stands as a classic of the Paisley Underground sound.

After one 1984 record, Rainy Day morphed into Clay Allison.

By 1987, this band became Opal. Together, Roback and Smith issued their debut album–Happy Nightmare Baby.

The album scored Opal an opening slot on tour with Jesus and Mary Chain. Sandoval joined on backing vocals.

Unfortunately, the tour proved fractious for Roback and Smith’s relationship. The latter abruptly exited the band mid-show, throwing down her guitar in anger and exiting the stage during a performance at the Hammersmith.

Meanwhile

When Smith exited Opal, Roback promoted Sandoval as her replacement.

What began in 1987 as a continuation of Opal ultimately evolved into Mazzy Star. Sandoval took over lead vocals and co-songwriting duties on the way to Mazzy Star’s 1990 debut, She Hangs Brightly.

The Rough Trade release was not a commercial success, but earned the emergent band high critical praise for its original sound. Then, in 1990, the U.S. Rough Trade label folded. Left without a home, Mazzy Star was swallowed up by Capitol Records. It proved a fortuitous event.

By the time of their sophomore release, 1993’s So That I Might See, they enjoyed major label support. It paid off with a surprise alt-rock radio hit.

Hope Sandoval’s wispy singing and Dave Roback’s hypnotic playing made “Fade Into You” a landmark recording of the ‘90s.

For a glimpse at just how straight a line you can draw from Mazzy Star’s lone hit to Dave Roback’s Rain Parade…

It was the band’s artistic and commercial high point.

After one more album, Mazzy Star disbanded.

Hope Sandoval went on to record several bewitchingly beautiful records with her own group – the Warm Intentions, as well as one more reunion album with Mazzy Star in 2013.

Sadly, Roback’s death in 2020 would scrap chances of any future reunion.

The good news is that Roback and his Paisley Underground compatriots left us with a wealth of music. Though the scene itself was short-lived, its lasting influence is pretty obvious from the playlist below:

The 1985 Chicago Bears inserted themselves forever into pop music lore with “The Super Bowl Shuffle.”

This is, without contest, the artistic high point in the confluence between old school hip hop, pantomime saxophoning, and public access cinematography.

In February of 1986, as the Bears hoisted the Lombardi Trophy, the “Super Bowl Shuffle” peaked at #41 on the Billboard Hot 100. Selling more than half-a-million copies, “The Super Bowl Shuffle” even earned a Grammy nod in the Best R&B Song category.

Prince might have ultimately secured the Grammy for “Kiss” that year, but it was the Chicago Bears who set off a frenzy of copycat musical ventures.

In fact, fossil evidence suggests that NFL teams of the 1980s were suddenly and irretrievably drawn to the music video as a form of expression. The results are varied, but almost uniformly incredible.

Contenders

First among imitators were the Patriots, who would face off with the Bears in that year’s Super Bowl. The Patriots recorded “New England, The Patriots, And We.”

Believe it or not, the song sucks even worse than the title.

In the aftermath of the “Super Bowl Shuffle”, most teams were granting their own players studio time, and cashing in on the popular emergence of hip hop.

The Patriots hadn’t received the memo. Behold an assembly of studio goons emoting all over this New England Tourism Board jingle.

In 1986, the Bears would destroy the Patriots both on the field and on the Billboard charts.

West Coast Represents

The Los Angeles Raiders took their own stab at it, swiping a Stryper tune for “The Silver and Black Attack”. If you ever wanted to see Howie Long spit a rhyme, this is your big day.

Across town, the Rams went to the studio with “Let’s Ram It”, a video laden with sexual innuendo and synchronized dancing. Try to stick with it all the way to the end (or at least just fast-forward to the last minute). You have to hand it to defensive back Norm Cromwell (#21). Dude really gives it his all.

That year, the Rams were knocked from the playoffs in the Wild Card round and the Raiders missed the postseason altogether.

Both songs missed the charts.

Buddy’s Watchin’ You

In 1988, the trend had reached Philadelphia. Notably, so had former Super Bowl-winning Bears defensive coordinator Buddy Ryan. Now in his third season with the Philadelphia Eagles, he was also the titular subject of the team’s entry into the NFL rap wars.

Eleven players gathered at Kajem Victory Studios on November 15, 1988. Notables included quarterback Randall Cunningham, wide receiver Mike Quick, and future Hall of Fame defensive end Reggie White, may he rest in peace.

Randall Cunningham struggles on his lead verse, but absolutely crushes the Flavor Flav impersonation with his surgically-placed “Yeah Boyyyyy” fill.

The sessions were produced by Eugene “LambChop” Curry and legendary Philly Soul architect, Bunny Sigler. The final product was released on 12″ single through Philly-based VHS rental chain West Coast Videos.

And in the post-script, the Chicago Bears bounced the Eagles from the playoffs in a classic New Year’s Eve matchup thenceforth remembered as the Fog Bowl.

Also-Rans

The highlights above are really just the tip of the iceberg. If you weren’t recording a music video in the mid- to late ’80s, did you really even have an NFL team?

Below is a lightly annotated look at the best of rest. Keep an eye out for the hallmarks of this genre–line dancing, cypher rapping, Commodore 64 graphic FX–each executed with its own distinctively regional flair.

Speaking of regional flair, I’ll warn you before you even begin that I’ve saved the best for last. If you like laughing at the expense of the Cleveland Browns–and who doesn’t–I’d strongly advise reading to the end.

“Cuz the Blue Wave is On a Roll” by the Seattle Seahawks (1985)

Kenny Loggins meets “Yakety Yak” meets a guy tooting his own horn in the shower.

“We’re the New York Giants” by The New York Giants (1986)

…wherein the performers forget to wear matching jerseys and instead remind you that they are, in fact, the New York Giants, no fewer than 600 times.

“The Team of the Eighties” by the San Francisco 49ers (1988)

Jerry Rice was the greatest wide receiver. Nothing but respect for his game. Anyway, here’s this…

“Who Dey Rap” by The Cincinnati Bengals (1989)

I always pictured Cincinnati as a depressing place in the late ’80s. This video didn’t change my mind.

“Can’t Touch Us” by the Miami Dolphins (1990)

Joey Buttafuoco pants, mall escalators, and a Hooters girl all rolled up in an M.C. Hammer ripoff by an imaginary artist named Corey and the Fins. Pure turn-of-the-decade poetry.

“Masters of the Gridiron” by the Cleveland Browns (1986)

I don’t even know how to properly prepare you for this epic 17-minute slice of cinematic brilliance. “Masters of the Gridiron” is a mashup between Conan the Barbarian and whatever kinds of hallucinations people probably have when they mix steroids and mead.

Set aside a few minutes for this one, featuring a full-length music video performance by Cleveland’s Michael Stanley Band, a riveting theatrical turn by Tiny Tim (who is not at all from Cleveland), and the spear-wielding offensive line of the 1986 Cleveland Browns.

Trigger warnings for violent stabbing death, child acting, and a total disregard for current concussion protocol standards.

The Grateful Dead—merry pranksters, psychedelic nomads, elder tribal leaders. The are widely and rightly credited for shepherding a counterculture that flocks together even to this day. But the legendary band remains deeply underrated in one area. As musical historians, they have few equals.

The point of this post is to demonstrate the breadth of their musical literacy. But in that spirit, let’s start with a quick history lesson of our own.

How did the Grateful Dead come up with their name?

Short answer—dimethyltryptamine and the dictionary.

As bassist Phil Lesh recalls, Jerry Garcia “picked up an old Britannica World Language Dictionary … [and] … In that silvery elf-voice he said to me, ‘Hey, man, how about the Grateful Dead?’”

Jerry had a similar memory of the event. The guitarist, who was under the influence of a psychedelic drug called DMT at the time, describes it as “one of those moments, you know, like everything else went blank, diffuse, just sort of oozed away, and there was GRATEFUL DEAD in big, black letters edged all around in gold, man, blasting out at me, such a stunning combination.”

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The Ship of the Sun

Surely, they had tapped into something bigger than themselves. But it was only years later when one of them happened upon this ancient passage from the Egyptian Book of the Dead:

We now return our souls to the creator,

as we stand on the edge of eternal darkness.

Let our chant fill the void

in order that others may know.

In the land of the night

the ship of the sun

is drawn by the grateful dead.

Why does this matter? Because the Dead lived this sentiment even before they read it—-endeavoring on an infinite voyage at the helm of the ship of the sun, drawn by those who came before them—-the ghosts of bluesmen and country pickers, of back-porch fiddlers and barrel-house piano players.

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The Golden Road to Unlimited Devotion

There were those contemporaries of the Dead who preferred to cast their own arrogant shadows over the graves of the departed, obscuring them from history’s view. (Led Zeppelin—I’m looking in your direction). The Grateful Dead were ever the opposite, extending their gratitude into that other world, raising up the ash and bone to mingle with the living.

American music is an unbroken chain. The Dead understood this, and they understood the part they were meant to play—a link upon which dusty crackling stories were passed on to new hands, given new life, and delivered safe passage from the yellowing songbooks, hissing field recordings, and lacquered platters into an endless tour—an oral tradition unmatched in this history of popular music.

When the Grateful Dead picked a tune off the scrapheap, they did not make it their own. They borrowed it, bent it, bound themselves to it—then they returned it to the universe. They added their own chapter to its story, never failing to read or relate the chapters that came before them.

And they did so which such fluidity that you could be forgiven for mistaking some of their own original compositions for ancient homilies. The line between the two is at times indistinguishable.

But we can help distinguish that line a little bit. While the songs included above are all Dead originals, the playlist below is just a small sampling of songs that the Grateful Dead borrowed for our benefit.

*We’ve included the original versions where possible, but many of these songs are “traditionals,” which means their official authorship is unknown. In other cases, the earliest known versions were not available. In each instance however, the version included predates the Grateful Dead’s.

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This week’s Top 40 Countdown originally aired against a pretty wild backdrop.

On August 4th of 1972, a massive solar flare knocked out cable lines across the U.S. and caused widespread communication disruptions for the next 6 days.

Entirely unrelated, on August 10th, a meteor came within just 36 miles of striking Earth. It came so close, in fact, that it could be seen during the day time with the naked eye. Here it is passing over the Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming:

It’s probably best not to think about just how narrowly we were spared unfathomable disaster. Speaking of unfathomable disasters, incumbent Richard Nixon was renominated as the GOP’s presidential candidate at the Republican National Convention in Miami on August 21st.

Stax of Wax

Just as Nixon was preparing to receive his nomination, Wattstax was arriving in Los Angeles. On August 20th, the pioneering Memphis-based soul label Stax staged a festival commemorating the 1965 Watts Riots, a series of racially-charged confrontations between police and members of the predominantly Black L.A. neighborhood.

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Festival promoters initially worried that a small regional label like Stax would be unable to fill the Los Angeles Coliseum. But with tickets selling for a dollar a pop, more than 112,000 people showed up to see gospel legends the Staple Singers, father-daughter soul duo Rufus and Carla Thomas, powerhouse blues guitarist Albert King, and Isaac Hayes, who celebrated his 30th birthday by headlining the event.

The landmark performance was immortalized the following year in a Golden Globe-nominated documentary.

With all of that said, there is just one song from the Wattstax setlist that coincides with this week’s countdown.

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In 1994, a veteran Jamaican singer catapulted to global stardom with the international #1 hit “Here Comes the Hotstepper”.

Not only was iNi Kamoze more than a decade into his recording career when he broke out, but the basic ingredients for his biggest hit had already been filling dancefloors for 30 years.

Land of 1000 Dances

We’ll get back to iNi Kamoze, but this story begins on Christmas Day, 1929.

That’s when Chris Kenner was born in (*doublechecks notes) Kenner, Louisiana. Kenner (the town) was just upriver from New Orleans. Kenner (the guy) moved down to the big city in his teens and found work as a stevedore. By the 1950s, Kenner was doing what pretty much everybody else in New Orleans does–hitting the recording studio.

By 1955, he was cutting his own singles. When fellow Orleanian Fats Domino charted with a cover of his “Sick and Tired,” the young R&B shouter found himself on the doorstep of fame.

He stepped through the door on a 1961 collaboration with legendary Crescent City piano player, songwriter, and arranger Allen Toussaint.

Together, they scored a #2 Billboard Hot 100 hit, and a million seller, with “I Like It Like That”.

Though it would be the biggest hit of his career, the most consequential of his releases was 1962’s “Land of 1000 Dances”.

The Era of the Dance Craze

This requires a quick aside. By the late ‘50s, Rock and Roll had crashed the Billboard charts and dancefloors across America. Every week seemed to bring with it a new dance sensation. And each sensation spawned dozens of cash-in radio hits.

By the end of the decade, novelty moves like “The Stroll” and “The Hully Gully” made inroads into popular culture. But generally speaking, dance crazes were a quirk associated with desegregated dancefloors and youth culture. They were therefore regarded with suspicion and even revulsion by the conservative guard.

But when Chubby Checker landed a #1 hit in 1960 with “The Twist”, the dance craze became a mainstream phenomenon. Movie stars and businessmen did “The Twist”. Soon to follow were the Watusi, the Alligator, the Mashed Potato, The Pony, and countless others.

Back to Kenner (The Guy, Not the Town)

“Land of 1000 Dances” is peak dance craze, a tune that name-checks 16 separate dance fads while landing an infectious floor-shaker all on its own. Kenner’s version peaked at #77 on the Billboard Hot 100.

Sadly, the years that followed were not kind to Kenner. He struggled with alcoholism and unpredictable behavior, frequently missing scheduled performances and, when he did show, forgetting the words to his own songs. He even did a 3-year stint in an Angola, Louisiana prison for unlawful acts with a minor. He ultimately drank himself to death in 1976, at just 46 years old.

Fortunately, that is not the end of this story.

1000 More Dances

While Kenner died young, his greatest song enjoyed a lengthy second act. “Land of 1000 Dances” is frequently covered. Notable versions include those by Sam and Dave, Willie Mitchell, Little Richard, Patti Smith, and most successfully, by Wilson Pickett, who took it to #6 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1966.

But the version that most concerns us today is actually a 1965 cut by a one-hit wonder from East L.A.

Cannibal and the Headhunters were part of L.A.’s burgeoning Chicano rock scene, and became one of the first Mexican-American bands to chart a major hit when they reached #30 with Kenner’s classic.

What sets this version apart from so many others? Actually, it’s something that happened entirely by accident.

Sad as it is that Kenner was prone to forgetting his own lyrics, it’s also historically fitting. When the Headhunters entered the studio to cover Kenner’s tune, singer Frankie “Cannibal” Garcia also forgot the lyrics.

This prompted him to improvise the “naa na na na naa” section of the tune, an addition that would ultimately make this the most indelible version of “Land”.

Here Comes Cecil Campbell

Let’s jump ahead 15 years.

Born in Saint Mary, Jamaica, Cecil Campbell took on the name iNi Kamoze (which means “mountain of the true God”) and released his debut single in 1981.

A full-length LP followed in 1984.

With ace production and rhythm section backing from legendary Jamaican duo Sly and Robbie, Kamoze’s self-titled release is an excellent roots record that does not at all resemble the hit for which he is best known.

In 1984, Kamoze embarked on a supporting tour with prolific dancehall pioneer Yellowman. He gained attention for his energetic stage presence and lanky 6ft+ frame.

iNi continued to release highly respectable and topical dancehall reggae, but with gradually diminishing returns. In 1988, the frustrated singer took a hiatus from the music business.

He made his return four years later with a greatest hits compilation called 16 Vibes of iNi Kamoze. Though the collection predates and therefore does not include Kamoze’s actual greatest hit, Sublime fans will surely recognize the sample from this one:

The Lyrical Gangster

In 1992, Kamoze re-entered the studio with a new persona, a boatload of samples, and one key lyrical conceit from Cannibal & the Headhunters’ “Land of 1000 Dances.”

iNi very intentionally copped Cannibal’s accidental “naa na na na naas”, and used them to anchor a hip-hop/reggae mashup called “Here Comes the Hotstepper”. A far cry from the pure roots reggae of his earlier years, Kamoze rides the rising tides of gangsta rap and ragga (an electronically-rooted variation on dancehall reggae).

The result is an infectious tune about police brutality. To the point, “hotstepper” may sound like the name of another dance craze, but it’s actually a Jamaican colloquialism for one who lives on the run from the law.

The tune includes a few other noteworthy (and well-worn) samples, including:

“The Champ” by The Mohawks (1968)

“Hot Pants (I’m Coming, Coming, I’m Coming)” by Bobby Byrd (1971)

“Hung Up on My Baby” by Isaac Hayes (1974)

“Daisy Lady” by Seventh Wonder (1979)

Kamoze shopped his new single around to numerous labels but, at first, found no takers.

Big Up Di Crew

In 1993, Columbia Records grabbed “Hotstepper” for inclusion on an American compilation of reggae tunes called Stir it Up. They signed Kamoze to a token one-year contract and released their comp in 1994.

Columbia had no intention of releasing “Hotstepper” as a single, but they did invite a rising producer named Salaam Remi to remix it for inclusion on a promotional LP.

Later famous for his work with artists like The Fugees, Nas and Amy Winehouse, Salaam remembers that “Hotstepper” “sat around collecting dust” for two years. He added a key sample from disco diva Taana Gardner’s 1981 single “Heartbeat.”

In the summer of ‘94, Columbia added the remix to their promotional LP and sent it off to college radio stations and urban pop DJs.

From this unlikely source, “Hotstepper” proved a slow burner–gradually inching its way onto the dancefloor and emerging as a surprise radio sleeper. By the time Columbia realized they had a hit on their hands, Kamoze’s contract was days from expiration.

Suddenly, iNi Kamoze was at the center of a major label bidding war. He signed a massive 7 album deal with Elektra Records.

Still, Columbia had one ace up their sleeve. “Hotstepper” was slated for inclusion on the soundtrack to Robert Altman’s upcoming fashion industry satire Pret-a-Porter (translated: Ready to Wear). This gave Columbia license to release “Hotstepper” as a proper single ahead of the film.

This version–labeled the “Heartical Remix” due to Ms. Gardner’s contributions–scaled to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and #4 on the U.K. Singles Chart. It also topped the charts in Denmark, New Zealand and Zimbabwe.

Unfortunately for Elektra, Kamoze recorded just one of the 7 records for which he was contracted. 1995’s Lyrical Gangster contained no major hits. Today, Kamoze still records and tours, and his early recordings are genuinely quite good.

But to the casual observer, he remains entirely associated with his one true classic.

***

In the spirit of today’s article, we’re furnishing you with not one but two weekend dance mixes. The first hearkens to the theme at the center of “Land of 1000 Dances”, and catalogues the period’s steady drumbeat of shifting dance crazes.

The second is a hotstepping, Hi-NRG spin through the ‘90s with one foot in Jamaica and one foot in da club.

Rusty’s life came to a tragic and violent end with stardom always just slightly out of reach.

Legend has it (if indeed Rusty’s own claim can be considered legend), that he was at various times invited to become the lead singer for both Lynyrd Skynyrd, after the death of Ronnie Van Zant and bandmates in 1977, and AC/DC, after the death of singer Bon Scott in 1979.

Neither of these opportunities materialized, but Rusty’s story intersects with so many artists of note that it’s hard to believe his name is so little known.

Rusty Day & the Midnighters (1966)

Rusty got his start in the high-octane Detroit scene. By the mid-sixties, the Motor City was churning out its own distinctively heavy brand of footstomping rock and roll. Rusty gained local popularity singing and playing harp as the frontman for the Midnighters.

In 1966, they released their lone single on a small local label called Maltese. Formed in 1965, the Detroit label released just a small clutch of 45s during its brief existence. Rusty’s debut single was its final release before Maltese folded in ‘67.

Rusty’s one solo slab of Northern Soul holds up pretty well. Needless to say, it was not a hit.

The Amboy Dukes (1969)

Still, Rusty managed to make a name for himself as an edgy and exciting live performer. He also began making connections. The Amboy Dukes originally came together in Chicago but ultimately found fame after moving to Detroit.

The Amboy Dukes are best known as the launchpad for Ted Nugent’s pyrotechnic virtuosity. In fact, the Motor City Madman was the band’s de facto leader and its sole constant.

The Dukes were fresh off of their second record, and their lone hit, the classic fuzz-nugget “Journey to the Center of the Mind”.

The title track from their sophomore record was actually a #16 hit on the Billboard Hot 100. But it also pointed to a major source of tension within the band. The song’s overt allusions to psychedelics were very much at odds with Ted Nugent’s staunch anti-drug policy.

For this reason (and probably also because Ted Nugent is kind of a dick), the Amboy Dukes lineup shuffled constantly. In any event, the departure of original lead singer John Drake opened the door for Rusty Day.

Rusty would take over lead vocals for the Dukes on their third full-length LP, 1969’s Migration.

The album did not repeat the success of its predecessor. Nugent once again scrapped his lineup, giving Rusty the axe after just one album–by some accounts as a consequence of Rusty’s drug use. (Nugent would ultimately retain the Amboy Dukes name until simply transforming it into his backing band and retiring the brand in 1975).

Cactus (1970-1971)

At roughly the same time that Rusty was making his quick exit from the Amboy Dukes, Vanilla Fudge was also on the verge of folding. In 1970, after five full-length albums and a single major hit–1967’s Top 10 psyched-out cover of The Supremes’ “You Keep Me Hangin’ On”– the Long Island-formed fuzz rockers disbanded.

As early as 1969, Fudge bassist Tim Bogart and drummer Carmen Appice had been in quiet conversation with the heavy half of the Jeff Beck Group. They intended to launch a quartet that included Beck and Rod Stewart.

These designs were dashed when Jeff Beck was injured in a car accident days before they entered the studio. Meanwhile in London, the Small Faces were in crisis. Lead singer Steve Marriott had departed to form Humble Pie with a young guitarslinger named Peter Frampton. The remaining members of the band dropped the “Small”, added Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood, and became the Faces.

Obviously, this development was great for the future history of rock and roll, but it sucked for Bogart and Appice. So they shifted gears, recruiting Rusty Day in Stewart’s place, and adding fellow Michigander Jim McCarty (once a guitarist for Mitch Ryder’s Detroit Wheels and not to be confused with the Yardbirds drummer of the same name).

The new quartet became Cactus. In their first incarnation, they recorded three full-length LPs between 1969 and 1971.

However, tensions between bandmates boiled over in 1971. Day was almost certainly a source for this tension. Rusty was a confrontational frontman, guilty on more than one occasion of cajoling his own audiences to riot. He was even arrested upon leaving the stage during one particular Cactus performance in Boston.

Bandmate Carmen Appice remembers that the local lawmen didn’t take kindly to being called pigs by the fiery singer. Indeed, it was this habitual behavior that ultimately forced Cactus to fire Rusty.

Bogart and Appice made one more Cactus album before finally getting their wish, or at least half of it. In 1972, they joined with Jeff Beck to record Beck, Bogart & Appice. Among other distinctions, this record actually includes the original version of “Superstition.” Jeff Beck and Stevie Wonder collaborated on its composition, and the plan was for Beck to release his version first.

But when delays held back the release of Beck, Bogart & Appice, and when Motown realized it was certain to be a huge hit, they pushed Stevie’s version out first. The lead single to Stevie’s classic 1972 LP Talking Book was already a chart-topping hit by the time Beck’s version hit the shelves.

The Band Detroit (1974)

Back to Rusty, back to Detroit, and back in time…

As mainstream success eluded Rusty in his early days, he watched as one his contemporaries rose to stardom. In 1966, the same year Rusty’s Maltese single was released to zero attention, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels rode “Devil With a Blue Dress” to #4 on the Billboard Hot 100.

(Jim McCarty–later of Cactus–plays guitar on that one.)

Mitch Ryder, perhaps more than any other artist, embodied the gritty, diesel-scented, working class rock for which Detroit is known. But by the late 60s, psychedelic experimentation had largely supplanted chugging, straight-ahead rock like Ryder’s.

In 1968, Mitch scrapped the Detroit Wheels. In 1970, he formed a new combo called Detroit (also sometimes referred to as The Band Detroit).

The most notable recording from their brief run was a cover of Velvet Underground’s “Rock and Roll”. Lou Reed liked their version so much, he nicked Detroit guitarist Steve Hunter for his next tour. Worse yet for the Band Detroit, in 1973, Mitch Ryder struggled with throat issues which would ultimately sideline him from the music business for the next decade.

As he had done so many times before, Rusty Day filled the void.

In 1974, Day took up lead vocals for Detroit. Among his bandmates was a talented young guitarist named Steve Gaines. Their run was brief, and they released no albums together.

There is one unofficial collection of live performances entitled The Band Detroit – The Driftwood Tapes. However, it was actually released as a Lynyrd Skynyrd bootleg in 1998.

Why Skynyrd? Because in 1976, Steve Gaines was recruited into the southern rock unit along with his sister Cassie Gaines. Both would lose their lives the following year–alongside singer Ronnie Van Zant, and multiple crew members and pilots–when the Convair CV-240 carrying them ran out of fuel and crashed into a Mississippi swamp.

Though unsubstantiated, rumor has it that surviving bandmates Allen Collins and Gary Rossington looked to pick up the pieces by onboarding Rusty Day. For reasons that are unknown, Rusty passed on the opportunity to replace Ronnie Van Zant.

Rusty Day Band (1979)

Instead Rusty formed the Rusty Day Band and recruited a guitarist named Michael Owings from a band called Lizzy Borden (which incidentally included Bob Gaines—the bereaved sibling of the late Steve and Cassie Gaines).

The Rusty Day Band does not appear to have left behind any recordings. But by the early ‘80s, Rusty had formed Uncle Acid & the Permanent Damage Band. Uncle Acid actually managed to land a recording deal with Epic Records.

Like the Rusty Day Band, Uncle Acid never put out any official releases. But the band’s bassist has done us the courtesy of sharing an unreleased demo tape on YouTube, along with some illuminating background information.

In particular, he explains exactly why these tapes—recorded at Silver Moon Studios in Orlando, Florida—never saw the light of day.

“We were doing tracks in there right up to the day that Rusty was murdered,” he explains. “Same evening.”

Permanent Damage

*Trigger warning

Though he did once fire Rusty for his incendiary onstage antics, former bandmate Carmen Appice fondly remembers the singer’s talent and his mischievous streak. During a 2006 Cactus reunion (they’re actually still touring!), Appice reminisced that “Rusty Day was an amazing frontman. He had a really different kind of voice and an attitude all his own.”

However, Appice observed, “He died by the same lyrics he wrote. He lived very dangerously. He was machine-gunned to death.”

On June 3rd, 1982, one or more assailants broke into Day’s home and began shooting indiscriminately—killing Rusty Day, his 11-year-old son, a visiting house guest, and the family dog. The Seminole County Sheriff's Office had reason to believe the victims were intentionally targeted and that the murders were likely drug related.

Many years hence, a theory even emerged that Uncle Acid guitarist Ron Sanders was behind the killings. But we may never know. In August of 1982, six weeks after the murders, Sanders was surrounded by police on an unrelated matter while barricaded inside his home. He took his own life.

Oof. That got dark. So I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna leave you with a big fat crunchy riff-heavy mix of Motor City Madness.

Happy Summer Friday. I’m just gonna tell it like it is. It’s too goddamn hot for stories right now. Just dig this sweaty, soulful, vaguely urban soundscape. Best heard in sequence and after dark.

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Teddy Riley is widely recognized as the father of New Jack Swing, that glorious fusion of down-tempo hip-hop, R&B, and dance pop that ruled the charts in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s.

Teddy's greatest achievement is almost certainly “No Diggity.” Today, the tune is rightly regarded as the perfect marriage of New Jack Swing and G-Funk. And yet, when Riley first composed the future chart-topper in 1996, nobody wanted it.

But this story starts 25 years earlier, when an aspiring songwriter and factory laborer named Bill Withers struck gold.

Bill Withers—Grandma’s Hands (1971)

When soul legend Bill Withers released his full-length debut on Sussex in 1971, he was working as an assembler for the Weber Aircraft Factory in Burbank, California. In fact, the cover photo for Just As I Am was snapped right in front of the plant, while Bill was on his lunch break. You can see his lunchbox in his right hand.

Even as his first record hit the shelves, Withers remained in his day job. He was skeptical of the music business. He did receive a major boost with production from Stax legend Booker T. and prominently-featured guitar work from Stephen Stills. But more importantly, his debut proved a revelation, announcing the arrival of a major talent. Right out of the gate, Bill’s voice was rich with experience; his pen flowing with personal stories.

“Ain’t No Sunshine” was the album's breakthrough hit, reaching #3 on the charts.

Bubbling just beneath it was “Grandma’s Hands.” Bill’s grandfather, Gracchus Monroe Galloway, had been born into slavery in 1855. His grandmother Lula, born a decade later, would frequently bring young Bill to church. These weekly trips were a formative influence on his singing and songwriting.

Bill’s tribute to his grandmother reached #18 on the charts.

The album produced a third single called “Harlem,” which failed to chart.

It does, however, provide the perfect segue for our purposes.

Saturday Night in Harlem (1972)

Just as Bill Withers was burning up the charts, a young child prodigy named Teddy Riley began playing instruments in his Harlem church. His uncle owned a famous Harlem club called The Rooftop, which included its own studio.

Riley spent most of his time here. By his teens, he was lending his beats to visiting artists. In 1986, he produced his first hit, a minor independent chart entry for Kool Moe Dee called “Go See the Doctor.”

Trigger warning: "Go See the Doctor" is about STDs, and it's not a pleasant listen.

New Jack Swing Takes Control (1986)

The same year that Riley pushed Kool Moe Dee into the fringes of the mainstream, Janet Jackson enlisted Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis to produce her third studio record, Control.

Jam and Lewis spent the first half to the decade hanging with Prince as members of Morris Day and The Time. With Janet Jackson, they would establish themselves as a major production team.

On Control, they married their native Minneapolis funk sound to an emergent blend of hip-hop and R&B. The record’s synthy syncopation would become a trademark of New Jack Swing.

Producing a remarkable five Top 5 Hits, Control moved Janet Jackson into the epicenter of pop music, and proved a landmark in the mainstreaming of New Jack Swing.

The Rise of "Urban Contemporary"

This “urban contemporary” sound--as it was labeled by radio programmers--was typified by a blend of hip hop sampling, Quiet Storm vocals, and the omnipresent Roland TR-808 drum machine. At the time, it was a bold hybrid. Hard-edged rappers like Public Enemy and NWA stood in stark contrast to the more vulnerable soul singers in the R&B camp.

It was Teddy Riley, more than any other figure, who made peace between these camps.

Peak Era New Jack (1987)

Village Voice is credited with coining the name of this novel hybrid in a 1987 profile of Teddy Riley. It would prove a fitting association. Both as the lead singer of his own New Jack Swing combo Guy—with future solo star Aaron Hall—and as a rising producer, Teddy Riley stood at the forefront of the next big thing.

Over the coming years, New Jack Swing would become more than just a moment in popular music. It was a Black cultural force that was widely embraced in the mainstream, even achieving a brief level of dominance in film, fashion, and humor.

Young artists like Bobby Brown (formerly of New Edition), MC Hammer and Boyz II Men ruled the charts. Established artists like Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson emulated their sound. Television shows like The Fresh Prince of Belair, Arsenio Hall, and In Living Color made music a central part of their identity. The result was a mainstream proliferation of the New Jack sound and style. Parachute pants and box cuts were everywhere.

Renaissance Teddy (1991)

By 1991, Teddy Riley was an in-demand studio mastermind. Guy had splintered, with Aaron Hall pursuing a solo career. Riley joined a star-laden engineering booth with Babyface, Daryl Simmons, and L.A. Reid to help produce Bobby Brown’s third record, Bobby.

Riley produced a duet for Bobby and soon-to-be-wife Whitney Houston called “Something in Common” but the album’s most notable moment was #3 hit “Humpin’ Around.”

That same year, Riley manned the booth for Heavy D. & the Boys, who landed their biggest hit with a cover of the O’Jays’ “Now That We Found Love.” Featuring guest vocals from Aaron Hall, it reached #11 on the Billboard Hot 100 that year.

Simultaneously, Riley found the time to form two groups—a New Jack Swing combo called Blackstreet and a hip-hop group called Wreckx-N-Effect. The latter would be the first to bring big returns.

The Original Rump Shaker (1992)

By the early '90s, artists like Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson were chasing Riley’s sound—so much so that MJ enlisted him as a co-producer for his 1991 mega-platinum Dangerous. Lighting up the charts in 1992, Dangerous garnered more than 30 million in sales. This technically qualifies it as the biggest selling New Jack Swing record of all time.

The same year, Riley nearly topped the charts on his own merits. Riley was both the producer and featured rapper on “Rump Shaker”.

The #2 hit was powered by a sample of the Lafayette Afro Rock Band’s “Darkest Light”.

Only Whitney Houston’s towering “I Will Always Love You” kept Wreckx-N-Effect from the top spot.

Fortunately for Riley, his biggest hit was still ahead.

No Diggity—Blackstreet feat. Dr. Dre and Queen Pen (1996)

In 1995, Montell Jordan reached #1 with “This is How We Do It," driven by a Slick Rick simple with enhancements from Teddy Riley. It was the ultimate mainstream moment for New Jack Swing, knocking Madonna's "Take a Bow" from the top spot on the Billboard charts, and holding the slot for 7 consecutive weeks in the spring of '95.

It would also be something of a last gasp for the Golden Age of New Jack Swing. It was now the mid-'90s. The Boy Band era would soon be fully upon us.

So that may explain the lukewarm reaction Riley received from his colleagues when he came up with “No Diggity,” a quintessential down-tempo New Jack Swing tune built on a sample from “Grandma’s Hands” by Bill Withers.

At the time, Riley was in the midst of a reunion tour with Guy. He suggested the song to his bandmates. There weren’t interested.

He then offered it to Aaron Hall as a solo vehicle. He wanted nothing to do with it.

He then proposed the song to his bandmates in Blackstreet. According to Riley, “None of the guys liked 'No Diggity'. None of them. They would even say it.”

This, says Riley, is the reason that his voice is the one heard most prominently on the recording. He recalls being forced up front in the mix because he was the only one who actually believed in the tune.

Of course, it helped that he enlisted Dr. Dre for a verse. By 1996, Dre was widely recognized as a key architect of the G-Funk sound. Like New Jack Swing, G-Funk sparked its own pivotal mainstreaming of Black culture. In many ways, "No Diggity" was the bookend on their shared decade of dominance. Merging Dr. Dre's laid-back So-Cal drawl with Riley’s New Jack grooves yielded a pinnacle moment for both sounds.

Toss It Up—2Pac feat. Aaron Hall (1996)

Tupac Shakur disagreed.

Blackstreet’s “No Diggity” was released on July 29th, 1996.

Tupac was fatally wounded during a drive-by shooting in Las Vegas on September 13, 1996.

On September 26th, 1996, Tupac’s posthumous fifth studio album was released under the stage name Makaveli. It contains a track called “Toss It Up” which includes explicit musical copping from “No Diggity” and a ton of shade thrown in Dr. Dre's general direction.

Remarkably, Aaron Hall provided vocals for Tupac, consciously spoofing the song he rejected earlier in the same year.

The Aftermath

Whatever Tupac and Aaron Hall felt about "No Diggity," it was a universal smash. Not only did it reach #1 on the Billboard Hot #100 in November of 1996, but it mercifully ended a 14-week Reign of Terror atop the charts for “Macarena” by Los Del Rio. (audio clip intentionally excluded)

“No Diggity” would go on to sell more than 1.5 million copies on its way to the 1998 Grammy Award for Best R&B Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals (which is a stupidly long name for an awards category).

***

"No Diggity" is also the inspiration for the bonus playlist below, a melange of Clinton Era gems that take me right back to every high school dance ever. Two important user notes here: This playlist is NSFW and it is meant to be played on shuffle.

In 1966, “Sloop John B.” was a massive international smash for Brian Wilson and company.

“Sloop John B” is the story of an overseas voyage marked by misery and mayhem. The second single released off of the band’s landmark Pet Sounds, it reached #3 in the U.S. before crossing the Atlantic and seizing the #2 slot in the U.K. From there, it washed ashore nearly everywhere, topping the charts in Austria, Germany, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, and Sweden.

“Sloop John B” is peak Beach Boys—Brian Wilson and Mike Love trading lead vocals over intricate harmonies, ingenious arrangement, and an unusual stack of instruments that included the glockenspiel, a tack piano, and something called temple blocks.

Putting aside the trademark Beach Boys flourishes, the actual authorship of “Sloop John B” is unknown.

Buried Treasure

The composition actually made its first appearance in print. In 1916, British novelist and poet Richard La Gallienne transcribed its verses for an issue of Harper’s Monthly and gave it the title “The John B. Sails”. One year later, he included a condensed version in a novel about pirates and treachery on the high seas called Pieces Of Eight. The tale takes its protagonist to the Bahama Islands in search of treasure.

Though fictional, the book’s reference to “The John B. Sails” added a touch of authenticity, one likely informed by the author’s own travels.

Poet Carl Sandburg then included those same verses in his 1927 American Songbag.

The American Songbag was a massive hit. (Yeah–poetry books could be massive hits back then). Anyway, Sandburg’s collection remained in print for 70 years, which almost certainly helped raise the profile of “The John B. Sails.”

Around Nassau Town

“The John B. Sails” was already something of an anthem in the Bahamas by this point, with its growing global profile making it a source of some national pride.

A 1935 field recording from the Bahamas captures the composition as it was initially intended to sound. Alan Lomax was a musical historian who devoted his life to capturing folk traditions in the U.S. and throughout the world. The result of his work is a vast compendium of songs and sound that would have otherwise remained oral tradition–and in many cases, would likely have been erased by the passage of time.

On the recording that he captured here, you can hear a deeper history, one that far predates Alan Lomax’s arrival on Cat Island in the Bahamas. This first-known recorded version by the Cleveland Simmons Group is entitled “Histe Up the John B’s Sails.”

Feel So Folked Up

There are no known recorded versions of the song from the subsequent 15 years. But the late ‘40s and early ‘50s marked the emergence of something new—the American folk movement. Left-leaning musicians of the era merged progressive politics with an appreciation for American roots music.

The Weavers—a group which included future folk icon Pete Seeger—played a major role in reviving and recasting many of the folk traditions featured in field recordings by Alan Lomax. So it was that in 1950, the very same year that the Weavers charted a massive #1 hit with Lead Belly’s “Goodnight Irene”, that they released “The Wreck of the John B”.

Though the Weavers offer a decidedly sanitized mainland take on island music, it is also the first modern version of a song that would, in short order, be recorded by countless artists.

In 1952, Blind Blake (Higgs), not be confused with the ragtime blues singer Blind Blake, became the first Bahamian singer to record a modern cut of the tune:

Notable versions followed by Johnny Cash (1959), Lonnie Donegan (1960), and Jimmie Rodgers, who topped the charts in Canada for 3 weeks in 1960.

But it was the 1958 version by the Kingston Trio that caught Beach Boys singer Al Jardine’s attention.

Call For The Captain Ashore

As Jardine tells the story, “I laid out the chord pattern for 'Sloop John B.' I said, 'Remember this song?' I played it. [Brian Wilson] said, 'I'm not a big fan of the Kingston Trio.' He wasn't into folk music.”

In short, Jardine says, Wilson would never go for a song with this level of compositional simplicity. Undeterred, Jardine decided to infuse his sales pitch with some of Wilson’s trademark complexity.

“I put some minor changes in there,” Jardine said, “and it stretched out the possibilities from a vocal point of view. Anyway, I played it, walked away from the piano and we went back to work. The very next day, I got a phone call to come down to the studio. Brian played the song for me, and I was blown away. The idea stage to the completed track took less than 24 hours.”

The result was a masterpiece, and a dramatic reinvention of an ageless song–equally innovative and faithful to its source material (source material Brian Wilson likely hadn’t heard at that point).

Hoist Up the John B. Sails

The Beach Boys entered the studio with the usual cast of Wrecking Crew musicians–including increasingly legendary session aces like Hal Blaine on drums and Carole Kaye on bass. “Sloop John B” was recorded across two sessions in December of ‘65, released in the following spring, and omnipresent during the summer of ‘66.

It moved half-a-million copies in the first two weeks, making it the band’s fastest selling single to that point.

That was hardly the end of the song’s long recorded history. Nearly a century has passed since the Lomax field recording, but The John B remains unsinkable. Hundreds of versions have been pressed in the 60 years since Pet Sounds expanded the sonic palette of popular music.

But we’ll leave you here, back in 1966, with a promotional video for the song upon its release.

Fun fact: The reason you don’t see Dennis Wilson in this video is because he’s the guy behind the camera.