NEW MUSIC FOR OLDS #16
Last Night a VJ Saved My Life (Part II)
Hello, it’s me.
Thanks for once again allowing me to stumble into your inbox, the over-35 version of “sliding into your DMs”. We have some new readers today, thanks to my having authored…[SFX: drum roll]…a VIRAL TWEET!
Yes yes, it’s all very exciting. Don’t worry, I shan’t forget you, the little people who made my ascent possible. Now, time to sit back and watch all those Twitter Dollars to roll in…
In the meantime, here’s what we have today:
Xanax Pop
A return to Alternative Nation
Hotel lobby music (but good!)
and Part II of my 2001 saga as a contestant on VH1’s “Name That Video”
On with it!
GOOD STUFF
This is where I recommend three new songs that I’ve been digging of late. It’s pretty self-explanatory, but here’s a Glossary of Terms.
Weyes Blood, “It’s Not Just Me, It’s Everybody”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: And In The Darkness, Hearts Aglow
Nutshell: World-weary piano ballad
Voltage: 4
Thoughts: Nathalie Mering aka “Weyes Blood” has a vibe. She specializes in Xanax Pop inspired by the Great American Songbook and the 70’s singer-songwriters. Think Harry Nilsson meets Sarah Lawrence creative writing major. Her style (and contralto voice) may not be for everybody—”restrained” would be an understatement. But I love an artist who knows exactly the kind of art she wants to create. You know, the ol’ “vision” thing. Weyes Blood’s new album won’t be released in full until November, but if you dig this first single, I highly recommend her 2019 album “Titanic Rising”.
Pairing Suggestion: Sipping red wine while the house burns down in slo mo.
Fainting couch not included
Milly, “Nullify”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: Eternal Ring
Nutshell: 90’s style alt-rock
Voltage: 6
Thoughts: Like Momma, who I wrote about a couple months back, Milly does a brand of fuzzy, dreamy guitar rock that would feel right at home on a vintage episode of Alternative Nation. With touchstones like Smashing Pumpkins and Hum (bands whose heyday came before these two teens were born), Milly evokes days of floppy hair and gas station attendant shirts, 6-CD changers and rumors of something called the “world wide web”. If you came of age listening to alt-rock, there’s nothing new here—even the name “Milly” sounds like the product of a 1995 Band Name Generator. But the guitar playing if great and the melodies are catchy. Remember: low-hanging fruit is still fruit!
Pairing Suggestion: Rolling your eyes at Lewinski jokes
Ruth de las Plantas, lightheart, “What if you fly”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: What if you fly (single)
Nutshell: Lo-fi ambient electronic
Voltage: 3
Thoughts: Ruth de las Plantas is/was a music production student from Guadalajara, Mexico who started making lo-fi electronic music during the pandemic as a way to fulfill school assignments. All of her tracks are engaging but serene—perfect for Sunday mornings. More than anything, they evoke fnacy hotel lobby music. But in a good way! Ruth de las Plantas hasn’t released a proper album, but she’s been putting out a new single (often with collaborators) every couple of months for the past two years. My advice is to just look her up and hit shuffle.
Pairing Suggestion: Handing over your credit card for incidentals and finding out they’re already covered
You’re correct, these are all very good songs. Please, confirm my priors:
SOME BULLSHIT
New folks: Two weeks ago, in NMFO #15, I began a three-part saga regarding to my appearance on the 2001 VH1 gameshow “Name That Video”. You may find it helpful/necessary to read Part 1 before diving in here.
For the rest of youse: we pick up after I’ve sized up my opponents and we’re headed down to set, with glory (or something) on the line.
___________
LAST NIGHT A VJ SAVED MY LIFE — Part II
We arrive at the Name That Video set. Like most game shows of its era, I’d describe the design concept along the lines of "divorced dad spaceship"—half Star Trek, half Container Store.
The host is the lovely Karyn Bryant, who you may remember from the countless hosting gigs she’s had over the years. This is not a slam. Being a professional “presenter” is a mercenary biz and a three decade career (I think she does stuff for UFC now?) is nothing to scoff at. I’d happily trade! Back when I was booking hosting gigs in the late Aughts, the casting conversations began with, “Well, we can’t afford Carson Daly, so…”
Before I have time to get nervous, the game has begun—time is money! Round One is has various categories from which to choose–incomplete lyrics, blurred out video stills, etc. Predictably, the backstage bravado displayed by my opponents is nowhere to be found. Michael is shaky, but hanging in. And Cynthia…? Sadly, she imitates her namesake Cindy Brady’s tragic quiz show performance in “You Can’t Win ‘Em All” (Brady Bunch Season 4, Ep 22). At the end of Round One, I’m firmly in the lead, with Michael running 2nd. Cynthia, still frozen in the camera headlights, is summarily dropkicked into the Dustbin of History.
Cynthia, you seemed like a very nice person but if you're reading this, make no mistake: you embarrassed yourself.
In Round Two, Michael and I face off in the “Bid-a-Vid” round, which should be familiar to anyone who remembers Name That Tune. We're given a clue and then invited engage in a musical dick-measuring contest.
"Michael, I can name that video in five seconds."
"Well Christian, I can name that video in four seconds."
And so forth, until someone backs down.
Now look, I was bullied as a child—less than some, but more than your average straight White kid in a straight White suburb (I was husky, yet sensitive—an unfortunate combo). So even knowing the stakes, I feel a tinge of contemporaneous remorse at the atomic wedgie I administer in Name That Video’s Bid-a-Vid round. A couple questions in, I realize I can dictate the game by putting Michael immediately on the spot.
“Michael, I can name that video in two seconds.”
Unwilling or unable to take up my one-second gauntlet, Michael buckles and re-buckles and buckles once again.
"Christian…name that video."
And I do. I name all the videos. I even show off by making it clear that “Pink Houses” is not a song by John Cougar. It is not a song by John Mellencamp. No, “Pink Houses” was recorded in the interstitial period when the artist was billed as John Cougar Mellancamp. I receive no extra credit for this, but dominance can be its own reward.
My foes vanquished, it is now time to move on to the Championship Round. Just me, mano a video. Sixty seconds to identify ten songs, artist and title.
Until now, I've maintained a relatively blasé attitude. I want to win, obviously, but I haven’t fully considered what winning might mean. A friend who’d been a game show contestant had once taken home a cool $1200. That sounded pretty good to me—that’s two, maybe three Mastercard payments! But now I’m informed of the day’s grand prize: a fully loaded Toyota 4Runner. An actual SUV! The kind of car where you see one driving down a New York City street and you think, "Man...what an asshole." And now that asshole could be me!
There's a buzz on set. People with headsets are whispering. What I don’t know at this point is that, despite having taped a couple dozen episodes, no contestant has yet conquered NTV’s Championship Round. Which is a problem. The thing about game shows is, contestants need to win now and then; otherwise, people stop watching. That’s why they eventually dumbed-down “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” and added a dozen extra lifelines. “Name That Video” had not dumbed itself down–it’s pretty dumb to begin with. But the lack of grand prize winners has been a source of network consternation. Until now?
We come back from commercial and there I am, standing centerstage on the Divorced Dad Spaceship alongside the lovely Karyn Bryant. She gives a long spiel about the rules and prizes—in addition to the SUV, I’m also playing for VH1’s “100 Greatest Albums of All Time”. How exciting! I’d no longer have to pretend to have heard Astral Weeks! And before I have to time to fully freak out…we’re off.
Right out of the gate, I’m kicking butt.
"Depeche Mode, Personal Jesus!" Bam.
"Dave Matthews Band, Crash!" Bam!
"Motley Crue, Smokin’ in the Boys Room!" Bam!!
One video has me stumped. It’s Whitney Houston, that much is clear. But what the heck song is this? Fuck it, I’ll come back.
“Pass!”
Just like that, we’re back on track.
“Michael Jackson, Dirty Diana!” Bam!!
“AC/DC, You Shook Me!” BAM!!
“Nena, 99 Luftballons!” BAM!!!
Before you know it, I’ve cruised through nine of the ten videos with a full 20 seconds left on the clock. But this Whitney Houston video, man…
I’ll admit to not having been a Whitney fan. Even now, while acknowledging her as perhaps the greatest singer of her generation, I believe most (not all) of her recorded output is overproduced schlock. Still, I wasn’t raised in a cave–I know the hits. But now, with everything on the line, I’m at a loss. There’s barely any music. Whitney’s sitting on an empty stage, softly singing to no one in particular. The clock is ticking down. 14 seconds left. My life is flashing before my eyes. 11 seconds left. Oh my god, I’m choking away my chance at glory! And financial solvency to boot!
But then, just as all seems lost, I see Kevin Costner’s big dumb face materialize out of the ether. Huh? What’s he doing in this music video? He’s protecting Whitney. Almost like…a bodyguard.
“WHITNEY HOUSTON, I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!”
It’s how I imagine a walk-off grand slam must feel. Cheers. Applause. The crowd going as wild as one can reasonably expect of an unpaid studio audience. Executives high-fiving, Karen Bryant is shouting my name! Is she madly in love with me? Oh, most assuredly. I’m to be the proud owner of an SU-muthafuckin-V. Does it my driver’s license expired years ago? Hell no! I can sell it! A debt-free existence is within my grasp! The future’s so bright, I may have to wear shades.
The hoopla dies down and producer whisks me into a small room. Not the greenroom, but an exclusive throne room befitting a champion. Or maybe it was the nondescript office of a junior exec—I wasn’t quite thinking clearly.
"Uh, we have some paperwork and we need to figure something out. But great job, great job, absolutely, great job.”
The door shuts and I spend an indeterminate number of minutes pacing back and forth, burning off adrenaline. I spot an interoffice phone, so I dial 9 and start punching every phone number I can remember. I call my dad. I call my mom. Teachers, old bosses, high school girlfriends (How ya like me now, Lisa Polucci??). By the time I've exhausted my internal rolodex, I notice 45 minutes have passed. No one has yet brought this mysterious "paperwork".
Eventually, the door opens. Four executives walk in, nary a smile between them. The celebratory mood from before is nowhere to be found. Instead, everyone looks tired and constipated. They invite me to sit, and one of the suits introduces himself as a lawyer. Never a great sign.
"So, here's the deal..."
To be concluded…
Ooooh, a cliffhanger. Some real “three-act structure” shit, huh? Suck it, Robert McKee!
We’ll land this plane two weeks from now, in NMFO #17. Will the there be actual video footage? Oh yes. Yes indeed.
See you then, subscribers old and new! Please share this post and if 10/26 seems too far away, I encourage you to join the elite ranks of Paid Subscriberdom.
I’m getting nervous reading this! I can’t even remember if I really won or not. I remember watching someone else get stuck on Whitney for the clincher. That time it was “I wanna dance with somebody.”
solid as per usual