The 500 - #280 - All That You Can't Leave Behind - U2

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #280

Album Title: All That You Can't Leave Behind

Artist: U2

Genre: Rock, Pop

Recorded: Four Dublin Studios, 1 in France

Released: October, 2000

My age at release: 35

How familiar was I with it before this week: Fairly

Is it on the 2020 list? No

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Beautiful Day

I've always been a fan of professional wrestling. I was just quiet about it for most of my life. Understandably so. The idea of watching barely covered, gigantic men grapple, pummel, hurl and bloody each other in a fight, with a predetermined outcome, is leaving you open to derision from your chums.

In my defence, at the age of 10 I had no idea it was scripted. When I perused the racks of variety and department stores, the combatants shown in the glossy wrestling magazines seemed authentically bloodied.

Pro-wrestling exploded into the mainstream in the early 80s with the arrival of "Rock 'n Wrestling" and a cast of larger-than-life stars, including Hulk Hogan, Rowdy Roddy Piper, The Macho Man Randy Savage, and Andre The Giant. However, these manufactured heroes were paired with established musicians, athletes and actors, such as Cyndi Lauper, Mr. T., Muhammed Ali, Liberace, and Alice Cooper. By this time, I was a teenager and I'd "closeted" any interest in the "squared-circle" by cracking  jokes and pretending to be above the absurdity of this, so-called, "sport". Quietly, I was still watching, especially the annual Wrestlemania events.

Rock 'n Wrestling Era (l-r) Lauper, Ali, Liberace, Hogan
& Wendi Richter

As it did in the 1960s, following pro-wrestling's first golden age, the fighting spectacle’s popularity waned in the late 1980s. It continued to make money from a loyal fanbase, but the digitally-savvy and cynical audiences of the next decade were not amenable to steroid-fueled, cartoonish characters wearing ridiculous make-up and claiming implausible backstories.

The mid-90s grunge-crowd was unwilling to accept the premise that green-tongued, turnbuckle-biting George "The Animal" Steele was an unhinged wild-man. Internet technology provided legitimate information about these gladiators.  They knew that "George" (William James Myers) was a devout Christian, a former educator and amateur wrestler with a Master’s degree, who had found success in Vince McMahon's make-believe world. And the green tongue? A full pack of Clorets breath mints before the match.

George "The Animal" Steele

Forever adaptable, pro-wrestling changed once more just before the millennium and hit mainstream popularity again. This time, the gimmicks were gone -- or embraced, ironically. The World Wrestling Federation (WWF) had begun its "Attitude Era" and stars like Stone Cold Steve Austin, Mick Foley, Triple H and The Rock emerged as anti-heroes. In this new, bawdy incarnation, the wrestlers played amplified versions of their own personalities. Stone Cold Steve Austin (born Steven Anderson) played a brash, plain-spoken, beer-drinking Texan roughneck who suffered fools poorly. The Rock (Dwayne Johnson) was a fast-talking, charismatic egotist who referred to himself in the third person. These two personas were so engaging and loved by fans they could effortlessly move from hero (babyface) to villain (heel) without losing popularity or massive merchandise sales.

The Rock (l) and Stone Cold Steve Austin battle in one of
their many high profile matches.

It was around this time that I opened up about my life-long interest in wrestling. Raw is War, the weekly television program from the World Wrestling Federation (WWF), (soon to be renamed World Wrestling Entertainment - WWE) was wildly popular with my students. Furthermore, several of my friends, including Steve "Lumpy" Sullivan, Oscar "Porchee" Macedo and Claudio Sossi who have all guest blogged here, were openly celebrating their love too. In March, 2002, Lumpy secured front row tickets to the 18th incarnation of Wrestlemania, which was held at Toronto's Skydome and he generously invited me to attend. As a bonus, we even got to keep the folding chairs we sat in.

Pro-wrestling was now billed as "sports entertainment". Any illusion that the outcomes of matchups or that combatants were legitimately competing was gone. Many of the verbal exchanges were scripted, often being clever, funny and provocative. The scripts were penned  for mature audiences and the two-hour program was an envelope-pushing bawdy circus of  over-the-top pageantry, strongmen, comedy, beautiful girls, clowns and acrobats. Though the outcomes were still pre-determined, risks taken by the muscled fighters were genuine and, often, extraordinarily dangerous.

A Tables, Ladders and Chairs match at a WWF event

So, if you've made it this far, you are likely wondering what U2's tenth release, All That You Can't Leave Behind, has to do with the world of sweaty ring titans. Once again, the WWE partnered with contemporary musicians who gave permission for their songs to be paired with promotional segments. Popular bands, including Motorhead, Drowning Pool, Creed, and even my favourite group, Rush, had songs featured in segments on WWE programming.

Lemmy, of Motorhead, performing at a WWE event with
Triple H

In January, 2002, wrestler Triple H (Paul Levesque) was recovering from a devastating injury. Eight months earlier during a match, he had torn a quadricep muscle. It was the kind of physical trauma that could have easily been career-ending for the 32-year-old six foot, four -inch, 260-pound athlete.

Triple H being helped from the ring following his quadricep tear.

Instead, the headlining superstar went through an intense physical therapy program and, as Wrestlemania 18 approached, his return to the ring was heavily promoted. The real-world reality of a comeback triumph was blended into the scripted version. Hence, Triple H's honest battle to return to the ring gave a semblance of truth to the hero storyline that followed. The ensuing uplifting, promotional video available here, included the song, Beautiful Day, from this week's U2 record. Since that time, the expression “the Beautiful Day treatment” has become shorthand between Lumpy and me for any situation when a returning injured wrestler gets (or doesn’t get) a promotional push.

And so it happened, the eventual title match between Triple H and Canadian Chris Jericho took place in Toronto with Lumpy and I in the first row. From our seats we witnessed Jericho being thrown out of the ring and landing at our feet. If you pause the DVD at just the right moment, you can see us enjoying the bout.

This week’s feature song, Beautiful Day, didn't really need the promotional push from pro-wrestling. It had been released as a single 18 months before the championship bout and topped the charts in many countries. It marked a return for U2 to their original sounds which made them one of the most popular bands in the world during the late 80s and early 90s. 

Prior to the release of All That You Can't Leave Behind, U2 had released several records which experimented with different genres, including electronic dance, alternative rock and industrial music. For ATYCLB, the group returned to its roots, reuniting with producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, to make a record far more akin to their biggest releases, Achtung Baby and The Joshua Tree, which we will get to at #63 and #27...and I won't talk about wrestling.

The 500 - #281 - My Life - Mary J Blige

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #281

Album Title: My Life

Artist: Mary J. Blige

Genre: R&B, Hip-Hop, Soul

Recorded: Five New York Studios

Released: November, 1994

My age at release: 29

How familiar was I with it before this week: Not At All

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #126, moving up 155 places from the 2012 list

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: You Bring Me Joy

The Sophomore Jinx, sometimes called the Sophomore Slump, is a term typically associated with professional sports. In that context, it refers to athletes who have a superb rookie season and then fail to meet the same lofty expectations in their second campaign. Consider the example of Finnish ice hockey player Teemu Selanne, who set the NHL record for goals scored by a rookie in 1993 when he potted a league-leading 76. The following season he scored only 25. Granted, he finished his 21-season, Hall of Fame career with 684 tallies -- enough for 12th all-time in NHL history – so the slump was an anomaly.

Teemu Selanne in his rookie season

The term also applies to university students who, after having a successful first year, face significant challenges with the second year of their program, with plummeting grades and, often, a change to their course trajectory. I am familiar with this phenomenon. I did quite well in my first year and, in 1988, I was excited to pursue a degree in Psychology. My second year was abysmal as the challenges in the required mathematics courses ramped up. By third year, I had switched my studies to English and History, which played to my strengths.

In a 2020 interview, singer, songwriter and actress Mary J. Blige admitted that she was worried about a Sophomore Slump when she returned to the studio to record her second album. Her first record, What's The 411?, had been a critical and commercial success in 1992.

It reached number one on the R&B/Hip-Hop chart and number six on the Billboard Top 200. The album's five singles were so well received that a second album, featuring remixes of the most popular tracks, was released in 1993.

Blige's debut record fell into a genre of pop music called "new jack swing", a style best described as a fusion of hip-hop, dance-pop and classic rhythm and blues. Coined in 1987, new jack swing often used sampled beats or electronic drum machines as the foundation for a light melody line and clearly enunciated vocals.

When Blige entered the studio in the winter of 1993, she had more than a sophomore slump on her mind. She was battling clinical depression as well as alcohol and drug dependency while navigating an abusive relationship with singer K-Ci Haley. Blige had also decided to make two significant changes to her sound. She moved away from the new jack swing sound that had made her a star and began writing lyrics that were introspective and deeply personal. 

K-Ci and Blige (1992)

Her risks paid off and 1994’s My Life was a massive commercial success. It spent eight weeks at the number one spot on the Hip-Hop/R&B Albums chart and was certified triple platinum (three million copies sold) within its first year. It was also well received by critics. Not only is it on Rolling Stone magazine's 500 list, it made similar lists published by Time, Blender, Entertainment Weekly and Vibe.

Blige has earned the monikers, "The Queen of Hip-Hop Soul" and "The Queen of R&B". She has won an Emmy, nine Grammys, four American Music Awards, and 12 Billboard Music Awards, including the Icon honours. She was nominated for two Academy Awards in 2017 for the historical drama Mudbound and the film's original song, Mighty River. It was the first time a performer has been nominated for acting and songwriting in the same year.

With 15 successful studio albums under her belt, Blige's star continues to rise. Her jaw-dropping performance at last year's Super Bowl made it clear that the 52-year-old singer has plenty left in the tank and her earlier concerns about a Sophomore Slump were unwarranted. However, sometimes a little apprehension and uncertainty can fuel great work.

The 500 - #282 - Folk Singer - Muddy Waters

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #282

Album Title: Folk Singer

Artist: Muddy Waters

Genre: Acoustic Blues

Recorded: Tel Mar Recording Studios, Chicago, Illinois

Released: January, 1964

My age at release: Not born

How familiar was I with it before this week: One Song

Is it on the 2020 list? No

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Good Morning Little Schoolgirl

Pop music is full of songs about school-age romance and, when you are a teen, the lyrics fit neatly into your adolescent world view. That makes sense. The songs are written so teens can connect to and identify with them. However, the time comes when you realize an adult male has probably written or sung some of those lyrics, and the songs can become downright creepy.

A 33-year-old Ringo Starr crooning "You're 16, you're beautiful, and you're mine" comes to mind. A song that was a hit for 26-year-old Johnny Burnett in 1960, was penned by Disney songwriting legends The Sherman Brothers, who were in their mid-forties.

Revival-rockabilly legend Brian Setzer belting out the Stray Cats' hit (She's) Sexy and 17, a song he wrote at 23, is a tad awkward when he continued performing it well into his forties. To his credit, the now sexagenarian retired it from his setlist nearly two decades ago.

Granted, these are songs written "for" young people, even if they are not written or performed "by" teenagers. (She's) Sexy and 17 was released when I was 17 and the lyrics fit into my high school dating world.

Many teen-targeted songs celebrate the innocence, excitement and wonder of romance and infatuation. When discussing lyrics and poetry, I frequently remind my Grade 7 students that the "speaker" in a poem is not necessarily the "writer". When Setzer sings "She's sexy and 17/my little rock and roll queen", he is clearly speaking from the perspective of a high-school boy. He even references his chums and pranks they play on the teacher later in the song. A poem or lyrics can be written from the perspective of a man, woman, child, dog or even a bull, tree or mirror. For the “ancients” beyond 20, the songs can be a nostalgic reminder of their own teen years.

The Mirror, by Sylvia Path features a mirror as the speaker

There are also songs intentionally written sarcastically or provocatively to connect to a larger conversation about lust, impropriety or aging -- Don't Stand So Close To Me (The Police) and Aqualung (Jethro Tull) come to mind.

The perverse, voyeuristic, pedophile character "Aqualung"
from Jethro Tull's  1971 record.

Don't get me wrong, there are some lyrics out there that move way beyond creepy into borderline criminality. A troubling example can be found in the lyrics from Walk This Way (Aerosmith), Jailbait (Ted Nugent) or My Sharona (The Knack).

Which brings us to Good Morning Little Schoolgirl from this week's record, Folk Singer by Muddy Waters, pegged at #282 on The 500. Released in 1964, it was the fourth studio record from the legendary American blues singer. Often called "the father of modern Chicago blues", Waters was born McKinley Morganfield near Clarksdale, Mississippi, in 1913.

Raised on a plantation during the Segregation Era, he began playing guitar and harmonica at an early age, emulating local blues artists Edward "Son" House and Robert Johnson. He was raised by his grandmother after his mother died, shortly after his birth. It was grandma who nicknamed him “Muddy” because he loved to sit along the muddy banks of a nearby river, strumming his guitar.

Waters (1960s)

Folk Singer is Waters' only acoustic-guitar based record comprising both original material and a few blues standards, including the aforementioned Good Morning Little Schoolgirl, written in 1937 by Sonny Boy Williamson (born; John Lee Williamson). The song includes the seemingly inappropriate and troubling lyrics:

"Good morning little schoolgirl,

Can I go home with you?

Tell your Mama and Papa,

Big be schoolboy too.

Baby, I won't bore you

I won't bore you all night long

Baby, I wanna ball you

I wanna ball you all night long"

This is a song with which I have long been familiar, although I first heard it as a Yardbirds' version when I purchased the Eric Clapton Crossroads four-CD, box set in 1988. Even then, I found the lyrics alarming. However, I dismissed it as a "product of a different generation" and just enjoyed the guitar playing.

It turns out that my supposition of the record being a generational matter was  correct, a deeper investigation is required to understand this song in context. In his Obsidian Tea Blog post, Good Morning Little Schoolgirl - Creepy or Sweet, author Grey Armstrong noted that lyricist Williamson's cultural milieu does indeed matter. For a start, "black and white speakers don't use the same words to mean the same thing at times".

Armstrong posited that "Little", or "Li'l" in African American communities, often refers to the age of a person in relation to the speaker. Consequently, a 50-year-old mother may refer to her 20-year-old son and his chums as "you and your little (li'l) friends". Additionally, "schoolgirl" is often understood in white culture to be someone who is younger than 12. In black communities, particularly in the 1930 (90 years or so ago), a school girl could be in her late teens.

However, in playing Devil’s Advocate, was Armstrong (or am I?) leaning into “apologist” territory? After all, high school education for rural students in the 1930s was considered a luxury. This impacted black children during the Jim Crow era even more. According to an article by the American Federation of Teachers, “very few of the black children who finished grade school in the 1930s had the chance to attend high school. In 1932, only 14 percent of those between 15 and 19 years old were enrolled in public secondary schools in southern states.”

The lyrics are troublesome also because of the following line:

"Tell your Mama and Papa/Big be schoolboy, too".

Uh-oh!?

Can that be interpreted as encouraging the girl to lie to her parents about her potential beau's age or life situation?

One would think that if the lie is going to work, the girl’s admirer must appear to be of school age when he meets her parents. The writer, Williams, was 23 when the song was recorded -- but it may have been composed years earlier.

It is clear from Armstrong’s post (and should be clear from my approach to this thorny topic) that we are not trying to justify anything criminal or ameliorate any abhorrent behaviour. In the end, the answer has been lost to time. Sonny Boy Williams died in 1948 at the age of 34. Regardless, the meaning of the song rests in the thoughts of the listener. Much like I did when I first heard the track in 1988, I dismiss the lyrics as a product of a different time and just enjoy an uptempo, blues number performed by a legend, Muddy Waters on a record that is a terrific listen.

The 500 - #283 - Can't Get Enough - Barry White

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #283

Album Title: Can't Get Enough

Artist: Barry White

Genre: Soul, R&B, Disco

Recorded: 20th Century Recording Studios

Released: August, 1974

My age at release: 9

How familiar was I with it before this week: One Song

Is it on the 2020 list? No

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist:

Dr. Love, Mr. Love, The Prince of Pillow Talk, Ambassador of Romance, King of Disco, The Maestro and The Walrus of Love. Romantic soul and disco singer Barry White had many nicknames ascribed to him throughout his relatively short, but fascinating, life.

His legendary deep bass voice is what most people remember, but he was also a well-regarded pianist, drummer, composer and producer. He was taught piano by his mother and learned other instruments on his own, a natural musician. When referencing the rich timbre of the singer's voice in a BBC obituary, a commentator said: "If chocolate fudge cake could sing, it would sound like Barry White"

Raised in the tough, inner-city neighbourhood of Watts in South Central Los Angeles, White was involved with local gangs and was a father of two by the time he was 16. When he was in jail for theft; he heard the song It's Now Or Never by Elvis Presley and, according to his autobiography, it was a life-changing moment. In an interview he reflected on that time, saying:

"Survival (in the Watts neighbourhood) makes you a certain kind of person. In 1960, I went to jail for stealing; when I was in jail my ultimate goal was to change my life. I got over that hurdle when I realized....It’s Barry that put you here and the only way you are going to get out...is Barry."

Barry White on his mother's lap (1946)

Upon release from prison, White moved to Hollywood, convinced he was going to be a star. He provided backing vocals for two doo-wop groups, The Atlantics and The Majestics. By the mid-sixties, he was hired by Del-Fi records as an Artists and Repertoire Man (colloquially abbreviated to A&R man). His job was as a talent scout, while overseeing the artistic development of performers already signed to the record label. In 1972, his big break came when he helped produce Love Unlimited, a three-member “girl group” he had discovered.

White with the Love Unlimited trio

By the following year, White had assembled The Love Unlimited Orchestra, a 40-member string and horn ensemble that initially served as the backing band for Love Unlimited. Eventually, the band performed songs written and sung by White and the core members became his touring band.

Love Unlimited Orchestra touring band

White's debut record, I've Got So Much To Give, was released in 1973 and became a critical and commercial success. The first single released from the record was the seductive I'm Gonna Love You Just A Little Bit More, a lush orchestral masterpiece with an infectious groove composed entirely by White. The opening instrumental to the song has been sampled for nearly 300 hip-hop songs, including tracks from Nas and The Notorious B.I.G., who also have albums on The 500 list.

Can't Get Enough was White's third release, containing his two biggest hits – You're The First, The Last, My Everything and Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Baby. The latter established White as a superstar of soul music and the newly emerging genre of disco. He continued to release 17 more studio albums to mixed success, but remained a bankable touring performer. He enjoyed a popular revival when a wave of ‘70s nostalgia hit in the 1990s. He even made the first of two appearances on The Simpsons as himself in the season four episode, Whacking Day.

Barry White as himself on The Simpsons

Overweight for most of his life and a heavy smoker, White had a wide range of health problems, including high blood pressure, kidney disease and diabetes. While undergoing dialysis in 2003, he suffered a massive stroke. He was hospitalized, but a cardiac arrest ended his life. He was 58. His larger than life persona and chocolate-fudge voice live on among a new generation enjoying his works in both the original format and as samples tracks for hundreds of hip-hop songs.

And while his new fans may not be aware of his soapy monikers, plain Barry White is legend enough.