Carrie Bradshaw can have her Mr. Big
I spend a lot of words around this joint on music. True, most of the discussion is about Naughty by Nature, but there's a lot of stuff that I genuinely like--and not just in the ironic way that I like the Maid in Manhattan hoodie I found on the ground at a park after ultimate practice months ago and am wearing right now kind of like. Nope, I mean like like like. That is, check out the gem that is Indie Pop Rocks. May streaming it on iTunes help you maximize the workday.
And if it allows you to think I'm a little bit cooler, well, so much the better. Do your best to remember that for the following tale:
Sometimes when you watch TV and it's nighttime and you're kinda tired and the one teensy glass of wine you had with dinner kicked in with surprising force or at least you hope it did because how else can you explain the slight buzz you decided (in retrospect) that you must have had in order to call and order a product offered on TV? The kind of product that is only offered on TV (or, of course, in the As Seen On TV store in the Mall of America, in our great nation's great upper midsection, Minnesota. Let's hear it for Minnesota! Way to beat the system!) I did not buy a Salsa Master nor did I order a catalog from Pueblo, CO. I bought CDs. Two of them. And "Monster" was in the title. More with the details following some further justification:
I go to my job every weekday and work more than 40 hours a week (like 41, but still...). I go to school 12 additional hours a week and my limited spare time is spent either avoiding homework for said school or feverishly finishing novels so I can remain in good standing at my small fabulous book club.
Somehow, I still manage to find time for my first love: TV. During The Colbert Report, I am at full attention, giggling and (blush) actually blushing because he's sooo smaaaart and sooo cuuuute. Other TV times though, during your Roseannes and your Sabrinas, I fall into the medium happily, mindlessly. I drift away a little. I get swept away in Darlene's misunderstood-black-wearing-writer snark and Salem's troublemaking-punished-warlock-turned-talking-black-cat snark. I let commercials of other re-run shows wash over me, commercials for cell phones, DVD releases, 900 numbers, and then the generic TV ad announcer falls away as e-e-ev'ry ro-o-ose has its thorn just like e-e-ev'ry night has its daaaa-a-a-awn catches hold of my attention, seeps in. I sit transfixed as Poison's greatest song gives way to what a sha-a-ame what happened to ja-a-ane leads into Tesla's love is all around yo-o-uuu love is knockin' outside yr do-o-o-o-o-or-ah eases into ...and smiling next to you in silent lucidity-y. And then, the winner. The one that had me madly punching the number on the screen into my cell phone, grasping for my credit card. The song, that in 11th grade trig class, I made a classmate write all the lyrics of down for me so I could then sing it with all the accuracy and love it deserved, the song that the following year I taped FIRST with great honor so it would be the first track A-side of what became my beloved cheese metal mix, Nelson and Other Favorites. The song, behold:
I'm the one who wants to be with yo-o-o-u-u deep inside I hope you feeeel it's tru-ue waitin on a line of greens and bluu-uh-ues just to be the next to be-e-e with you
Mr. Big. Sigh.
Why I was so obsessed with this song in high school is lost to history, but the love has carried on. As has the remembered story behind the song: the classmate in trig who wrote the lyrics down for me (my "connection") gave me even more goods. She told me that apparently it was written by the lead singer of Mr. Big (whom we'll call "Mr. Big") when he was twelve years old. TWELVE! What twelve year old comes up with waitin on a line of greens and blues? A twelve year old in love, that's who. And not with some pre-teen girl, a woman. According to my connection, circa 1990, Mr. Big was really good friends with a 20 year old woman (I know, he must have been amaaaazing, even as a tween). Anyway, this woman got dumped by her of-age boyfriend and was heartbroken. To Be With You was young Mr. Big's attempt at simultaneously declaring his love for her and letting her know that her ex was a dink. I could provide a line-by-line explication of this, but it would likely interest only me.
Seeing this Mr. Big wonderfulness on late night wholesome television, I knew I had to have this song on CD (clearly I still have it on tape). I triumphantly ordered the 32-track double-disc set of Monster Ballads PLATINUM Edition, knowing that at a mere $26.99 I was the one laughing my way to the bank--paying less than a dollar a song! It got even better when the automated operator informed me that--since I chose the cheap, non-rush delivery option--I'd receive it in 2-4 weeks...long enough to totally forget that I'd ordered it and be psyched about it all over again when it arrived in my mailbox.
Two to four weeks later, I opened my mailbox and was PSYCHED ALL OVER AGAIN to receive my indeed forgotten double-disc set of totally kick ass Monster Ballads. Not only has it been in my car stereo non-stop since, but various tracks will also pop into my head throughout the workday, drowning out Indie Pop Rocks' best attempts to distract me with Bright Eyes and other great bands not singing about nights having dawns and cowboys and their sad sad songs.
And if it allows you to think I'm a little bit cooler, well, so much the better. Do your best to remember that for the following tale:
Sometimes when you watch TV and it's nighttime and you're kinda tired and the one teensy glass of wine you had with dinner kicked in with surprising force or at least you hope it did because how else can you explain the slight buzz you decided (in retrospect) that you must have had in order to call and order a product offered on TV? The kind of product that is only offered on TV (or, of course, in the As Seen On TV store in the Mall of America, in our great nation's great upper midsection, Minnesota. Let's hear it for Minnesota! Way to beat the system!) I did not buy a Salsa Master nor did I order a catalog from Pueblo, CO. I bought CDs. Two of them. And "Monster" was in the title. More with the details following some further justification:
I go to my job every weekday and work more than 40 hours a week (like 41, but still...). I go to school 12 additional hours a week and my limited spare time is spent either avoiding homework for said school or feverishly finishing novels so I can remain in good standing at my small fabulous book club.
Somehow, I still manage to find time for my first love: TV. During The Colbert Report, I am at full attention, giggling and (blush) actually blushing because he's sooo smaaaart and sooo cuuuute. Other TV times though, during your Roseannes and your Sabrinas, I fall into the medium happily, mindlessly. I drift away a little. I get swept away in Darlene's misunderstood-black-wearing-writer snark and Salem's troublemaking-punished-warlock-turned-talking-black-cat snark. I let commercials of other re-run shows wash over me, commercials for cell phones, DVD releases, 900 numbers, and then the generic TV ad announcer falls away as e-e-ev'ry ro-o-ose has its thorn just like e-e-ev'ry night has its daaaa-a-a-awn catches hold of my attention, seeps in. I sit transfixed as Poison's greatest song gives way to what a sha-a-ame what happened to ja-a-ane leads into Tesla's love is all around yo-o-uuu love is knockin' outside yr do-o-o-o-o-or-ah eases into ...and smiling next to you in silent lucidity-y. And then, the winner. The one that had me madly punching the number on the screen into my cell phone, grasping for my credit card. The song, that in 11th grade trig class, I made a classmate write all the lyrics of down for me so I could then sing it with all the accuracy and love it deserved, the song that the following year I taped FIRST with great honor so it would be the first track A-side of what became my beloved cheese metal mix, Nelson and Other Favorites. The song, behold:
I'm the one who wants to be with yo-o-o-u-u deep inside I hope you feeeel it's tru-ue waitin on a line of greens and bluu-uh-ues just to be the next to be-e-e with you
Mr. Big. Sigh.
Why I was so obsessed with this song in high school is lost to history, but the love has carried on. As has the remembered story behind the song: the classmate in trig who wrote the lyrics down for me (my "connection") gave me even more goods. She told me that apparently it was written by the lead singer of Mr. Big (whom we'll call "Mr. Big") when he was twelve years old. TWELVE! What twelve year old comes up with waitin on a line of greens and blues? A twelve year old in love, that's who. And not with some pre-teen girl, a woman. According to my connection, circa 1990, Mr. Big was really good friends with a 20 year old woman (I know, he must have been amaaaazing, even as a tween). Anyway, this woman got dumped by her of-age boyfriend and was heartbroken. To Be With You was young Mr. Big's attempt at simultaneously declaring his love for her and letting her know that her ex was a dink. I could provide a line-by-line explication of this, but it would likely interest only me.
Seeing this Mr. Big wonderfulness on late night wholesome television, I knew I had to have this song on CD (clearly I still have it on tape). I triumphantly ordered the 32-track double-disc set of Monster Ballads PLATINUM Edition, knowing that at a mere $26.99 I was the one laughing my way to the bank--paying less than a dollar a song! It got even better when the automated operator informed me that--since I chose the cheap, non-rush delivery option--I'd receive it in 2-4 weeks...long enough to totally forget that I'd ordered it and be psyched about it all over again when it arrived in my mailbox.
Two to four weeks later, I opened my mailbox and was PSYCHED ALL OVER AGAIN to receive my indeed forgotten double-disc set of totally kick ass Monster Ballads. Not only has it been in my car stereo non-stop since, but various tracks will also pop into my head throughout the workday, drowning out Indie Pop Rocks' best attempts to distract me with Bright Eyes and other great bands not singing about nights having dawns and cowboys and their sad sad songs.
posted by starpower at 11:11 PM
2 Comments:
But is that REALLY Poison's best song? Can you argue with the upbeat ridiculousness that is Talk Dirty to Me? I cannot wait to get the version you are buring for me to arrive in my mailbox so I can be psyched, too.
Okay, so I'm a little late posting a comment. I really should keep up with your blog because we so could've had a moment. I swear that a friend/co-worker brought that same CD into work and since I was possibly more excited about it than she was, she let me listen to it all day - and I think it was the same day you posted this. And when Mr. Big came on, I even told her about your (fine - our)love for the song.
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