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Heavy D reminded me of my dad.  No, really, he looked like a taller version of my dad.  But he could move like a smaller man, and he had a smooth flow tailored to his teddy-bear image.  

Heavy D passed away today; cause of death is yet unknown, and he was only 44, far too young. I’ll miss seeing him pop up on my favorite shows (remember his run on Roc?) and knowing my dad’s fake twin was out there making hip-hop safer for the ladies.

And while we’re talking about Laura Branigan, let’s take a look at that “Self-Control” video, shall we?  It starts out noirish, then gets straight-up freaky, before tilting toward plain disturbing.  And yet, the video is never less than fascinating.  Check out and tell me what you think.

The other night, I brazenly decided to sing Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” in a crowded karaoke bar.  The song wasn’t my choice, but its original performer abandoned the selection.  Being the microphone hog I am, I gamely took it up myself.

This wasn’t the first time I tried punching above my weight class, so to speak, but I feel I didn’t embarrass myself too badly with my drunken wailing.

In fact, this incident has inspired me to add a new tune to my karaoke wishlist, from the late, great Laura Branigan.  It isn’t my favorite of her songs—that honor goes to “Self-Control,” though I have a soft spot for “Looking Out for Number One”—but it is the most iconic.

So, what do you think?  Should I give it a try, or is it best left alone?

I love Queen.

I haven’t always loved Queen, though I never hated Queen.  Growing up, I knew a few of their songs without really knowing them.  One night, I watched Flash Gordon on TBS with my dad and came to know them, but I wasn’t really impressed with the film, so they didn’t exactly register then.  (I’ve since reversed my opinion on that film, dramatically so.)

But then I got to college and I met my friend Bekah, who loved Queen with a passion I had never before seen.  And more importantly, I saw Highlander one night on cable.  That isn’t the ideal way to see it, but holy shit, I loved that movie from the word go.  And Queen was an integral part of that.  With Bekah as my guide, I ventured further into that world, and came to respect, and ultimately love their flamboyant frontman, the fabulous Freddie Mercury.

The worst part of falling in love with Queen was accepting off the bat that Freddie Mercury had been dead eight years by that point, a most tragic casualty of AIDS.  Never would I get to hear that magnificent voice in person, or hear new songs from his pen.  It felt cruel to me, a particularly selfish feeling, I’ll admit.  But can you blame me?  After all, when Freddie Mercury was on, he was on.

Other bands may elicit more conversation when it comes to the all-time greatest crown (okay, mainly the Beatles and Stones), but in my opinion, there’s never been a band that’s rocked harder or entertained more than Queen, and a large part of that (which is sadly more evident in their relatively recent attempts to continue on without him) is Freddie Mercury’s considerable charm.  That isn’t to downplay the rest of the group—at its best, Queen was one of the tightest, greatest live bands to tear up a stage, and all four band members were accomplished songwriters, each of them penning songs that have ascended to rock canon.  Brian May and Roger Taylor weren’t bad singers either, and each of them have taken turns on lead vocals here and there.

But it was Freddie’s larger than life, magnetic persona that provided the spark, making them one of the most explosive acts ever.  You couldn’t take your eyes off Freddie, and with his mates ripping it up alongside him, the man was invincible. 

During periods of hiatus, Freddie, Brian and Roger all recorded solo material, and obviously, Freddie’s work shone brighter, but none of it could eclipse the music the band recorded together (along with the quietly diligent John Deacon) as Queen.  They were the greatest rock band EVER, and Freddie the greatest lead of all time.

Many point to 1975’s A Night at the Opera as the band’s crowning achievement, and it is one of the best rock albums ever, featuring the classic single “Bohemian Rhapsody.”  But it’s a versatile collection that also contains old-timey rags (“Seaside Rendezvous”), tender ballads (“Love of My Life”) and vicious anthems (“Death on Two Legs”), as well as this Brian May composition that Freddie absolutely tears into.  Showcasing their early prog-metal leanings, and heightening the drama and absurdity of it all, this is “The Prophet’s Song.”

Freddie Mercury would have been 65 today.  He’ll always be missed.

Can I tell you just how much I love Pandora?  It is an absolute lifesaver during the dead hours at work, when I need some sort of musical background to get through some of the more hypnotically repetitive tasks.  It’s also helping me reconnect with old musical memories, and even teaching me a few things about myself.

I often tell people I was musically moribund until middle school, when I discovered alternative rock for the first time and broke away from my parents’ music.  But iPod and sampling-aided critical reappraisal has made our parents’ music cool again, so I’m going to admit right here: I love Michael McDonald.

Yep, that Michael McDonald, the silver-haired, blue-eyed soul man who made a name for himself as a Doobie Brother before taking his smooth California soft rock stylings solo.  Not just Michael McDonald, but every MOR hit I heard on the easy listening stations.  Granted, it was the hysterical internet comedy series “Yacht Rock” that brought it all back, but I don’t really think I ever stopped enjoying that music.  Between my abiding, unabashed adoration of Hall & Oates, my yen for Anita Baker’s smooth jazz hits, and my love of Al Jarreau’s pop-inflected ’80s work, I wonder how I managed to keep any friends back then.

I’ve been listening to my Michael McDonald station all morning, and I’ve enjoyed every song.  Haven’t skipped yet.  Key to this oxymoronic mix of smooth jazz, soft rock and R&B is McDonald himself and his husky, buttery croon.  His songwriting was impeccable, as was the always-assured production on his greatest hits.  So this week, I’m going to come back strong and devote the Song of the Day to Michael McDonald!  That’s right, a full week of Michael McDonald.

Despite my love of his own songcraft, one of my favorite McDonald songs isn’t written by him—in fact, it’s actually a Patti LaBelle track written by Burt Bacharach and Carole Bayer Sager.  McDonald, as it’s well known, was also one of the most prolific guest vocalists of the ’70s and ’80s, and the decision to use him as the counterpoint to one of R&B’s grandest of dames was simply genius.  LaBelle and McDonald duel each other on this ballad of broken hearts, working together to bring tortured life to this examination of separation. 

The best compliment I can give it is that it really feels like an honest portrait of a longtime relationship buckling without hope of repair.  At the time, Bacharach and Sager themselves were no longer married, but still collaborating.  The song was written for Dionne Warwick originally, but her version ended up cut from her Friends album.  Patti got a hold of it and decided to do it as a duet, with Michael McDonald her first choice as partner.  The rest, well, you know.

To this day, “On My Own” is one of my favorite songs.  Here it is for all of you, and happy Michael McDonald week!

Man, even after all these years, I still like the hell out of this song.  What’s wrong with me?

It’s Free Comic Book Day!!  I can’t believe it’s been a year since I last expressed my enthusiasm about it on this blog.  My excitement about it has yet to wane.  I mean, come on, you walk in and get free comics!  What could be better?

This song has nothing to do with comics, but the video is appropriately nerdy enough that I don’t mind posting it here today.  It just popped into my head, and it’s propulsive enough to encapsulate how I feel about today.  I present “Circuit Breaker” by Mark Ronson and the Business Intl.

Hot damn, free comics!

I’m finally kicking off my latest feature here at FrankieThirteen.com: Phil Phriday!

Yes, that’s Phil Collins.

Phil Collins retired recently, and while the latter part of his career was filled with a lot of sentimental dross, it’s important to remember some of the flat-out classic work he did, both as a solo artist and as a member of Genesis.  So that’s just what I’ll be doing for the next several Fridays (until I get tired of it).

Undoubtedly, Collins’ best songs were the product of the dissolution of his first marriage in 1980.  He took some time off from Genesis and worked out some of his frustrations through music. The divorce was a prevalent theme in his first two solo albums, Face Value and Hello, I Must Be Going.  They’re marked by seething lyrics, atmospheric synths and heavy drums with a “gated reverb” sound.  (While Collins didn’t invent that technique, he certainly helped to popularize it in the ’80s, starting with the song “Intruder” on former Genesis bandmate Peter Gabriel’s third solo album.)

Today’s song is one of my favorites to employ that technique, from Hello, I Must Be Going.  This is “I Don’t Care Anymore.”

A few years ago, I asked my friend Bethany to burn her favorite Robbie Williams songs onto a CD for me, as I was interested in listening to him.  She did, but the next time we hung out, she left the CD at home.  That was the last time we got to hang out before she moved to Boston.  (She’s moved again since.)

I tried to delve into him on my own, but I’m not sure if he’s just not working for me if I need hand-holding through his catalog.  It shouldn’t be the latter; after all, he’s a mainstream pop singer.  I don’t know what the deal is.

Maybe it’s just that his albums are uneven.  That’s a problem plaguing just about every pop album, it seems.  I can’t say he doesn’t have his charm though.  I like his voice, and some of his songs are too infectious for me to dismiss.  Take today’s number, for example, which starts soft and becomes a bouncy little tune with a melancholic core.  Here’s “The Road to Mandalay.”

Never Let Me Down is widely considered by David Bowie fans (and Bowie himself) to be the nadir of his career, and I have to agree: it’s a fairly awful album when compared to the rest of his work (and not too hot judged on its own).  Still, I can’t deny the bubblegum delight of the title track, a frothy, buoyant song that stands as one of the sweetest I’ve heard in his catalog.

I’m in a mood to post such a song, so “Never Let Me Down” is this week’s Bowie Friday selection.

“Well, this is the new year…and I don’t feel any different.”

That Death Cab for Cutie lyric describes how I feel, pretty much, about the transition to 2011.  I don’t really know how to feel.   I don’t quite know who to be.

Normally, I’d say, “Hey, this is a rebuilding year,” but looking at 2011 from this side, that isn’t the case.  So much is in the works.  So much is happening.  New place.  New adventures.  New decade.

I’m turning 30 this year.  That’s kind of a big deal, and horrifying, because I don’t know how to be 30.  How can anyone really know?  I know no less than four couples who’ve had their first kid this year.  All of those people are 30 or younger.  It’s a staggering concept for me, starting a family.  I’m totally not ready for that.

Looking at appearances, I seem to be ending 2010 in better condition than I started it.  There’s still a sense of something building in the margins.  Emotionally though, I don’t feel that sense of success.  It’s been a tough year…not the toughest anyone could have, mind you.  I still have some sense of perspective.  But for me, this has just been…difficult.  It’s difficult to really get out of my own way when I’ve parked myself in the middle of the road.

It seems very self-indulgent to equate my own issues with late-period Bowie.  After all, I’ve seen and done relatively little while David Bowie has had very good reason to sit back and reflect on his life and career, which he did starting with 1999’s Hours…  The man has seen and done just about everything that can be done in entertainment, and his personal life has been reportedly spellbinding.

The general theme of Hours… was Bowie wrestling with age and mortality, which wouldn’t be so big a deal for someone Bowie’s age at the time (he was in his early 50s) if you didn’t consider that he was damn lucky to be alive on a couple occasions.  (That he survived the Station to Station period is nothing short of a miracle.)  Granted, this is less of a concern for me, at the later end of 29, so I wonder what the hell is my problem.

Then again, though I’ve done less with my life than Bowie did at my age, I’ve done quite a bit, much of it very early on.  I face down 30 though, and I think to myself, “Where am I now?  Why am I not where I thought I’d be?  Is it too late?”  I tell myself it’s never too late, and though it’s easy to think that, the physical reality is that, yes, there will be a day when it is too late.  Therefore, 2011 will be the year of making sure I beat that cut-off date.

It’s also going to be the year I cement my ubiquity.  I have something of a reputation of being that guy who knows everyone in town (kind of like Michael Comeau from Scott Pilgrim).  This year, I’m going to know everyone.  I’m going to know your mom.  In a respectful way, of course.

I’ve often said I’d do things differently if I had the chance.  Why not start now?  Like George Costanza during one of his hot streaks, I’ll try different approaches to situations whenever possible.  Most importantly, my goal is to be better, stronger, faster.

2011 is going to bring some changes to this blog, most notably a new feature I’m currently calling “The SBTB Project.”  More information is to come, though if you’re coming to this from my Facebook, you have a pretty good idea of what that means.  Song of the Day will tighten up, at least for now.  There may be some changes there—keep watching this space.

There is something big on the horizon, and you’ll know more about it in time.

Anyway, here’s to 2011.  Specifically, here’s to kicking ass in 2011.

Better, stronger, faster.

I could never stay away from you all forever.

Getting back to the song of the day, as the holidays have arrived, I’m gonna sprinkle in some Christmas music here and there.  And what better way to start than with one of the finest Christmas songs of all time?  Here’s Wham! with “Last Christmas.”