Sucking it Up in the 70's

Take it back a few decades as Stoney spins his fave 8-tracks tunes...this time grooves by The Sweet, Badfinger, The Raspberries, Electric Light Orchestra, Kiss, Hello, Bay City Rollers, Alice Cooper, Cheap Trick, Hues Corporation, Chic, Isaac Hayes, Barry White, and AC/DC.

Darkness

It is dark here. Maybe the darkest I’ve ever seen. I know there is more here if I can only find whatever it is. In my
nervousness I’ve struggled to reach out for some kind of clue. All there seems to be is the rough ground beneath
my feet and the feel of the cold hand-me-down jewelry around my wrists.

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

The strong smell of pine is as hard to miss as the splinters that irritate every inch of my back. The itch is so intense.
If only she was here to scratch my skin like so many times in the past. But she isn’t.

I think my eyes might finally be adjusting to this darkness. I can faintly see her face so they must be. If only I could
be sure…if I could just lean forward…just a little.

I can smell her perfume. The fragrance is as strong as the day I first saw her at the diner. I could close my eyes
and take in the sweet mix of scents. Sweet Georgia pine…incense…her skin. Though I am already surrounded in
darkness I feel the need to close them anyway. Not too long, I want to be certain it is her I see.

Is that a voice I hear? I must be getting close. Just a few more inches. Maybe if I just turn my head a little I can
find a clue. Is that crying I hear?

It sounds like her only…older? She sounds more like her mother than ever.

She is here..somewhere…I can feel it. If I could just remember the way outta here. Who am I kidding? I’m finding
it hard to even remember where I was or what I did yesterday. It frustrates me tremendously that she’s within my
reach and I can’t seem to figure out a way to help the one I love more than life itself.

What was that? Something brushed against my shoulder. Something is on my forehead. Now it’s gone.

There must be a way out after all, I got here somehow.

I must be crazy. It’s hotter than a Southern summer yet I’m surrounded in darkness. Maybe it’s just the
adrenaline. Lord knows my heart sure is beating like crazy.

Funny how I can smell the pine. Am I imagining things or did I just feel a soft warm breeze across my cheek? I am
now certain that there is a way out. I need out-the heat is unbearable.

I am tired of struggling…maybe I should just rest a minute…catch my breath.

The last thing I remember is coming home. She met me at the gate as I was sending in the horses for the night.
We celebrated. There was dancing and moonshine. A LOT of moonshine.

Strange how I can see pain in her eyes. What was the pain? I vaguely remember the sound of others.

NO! I WOULD NEVER DO THAT!

Wait…I hear clicking…like heels…and shuffling…I think…no I KNOW I hear a voice…

“Aim…FIRE!”

Coffin Fit

Hardly a Halloween has gone by without the Deadbeats coming to town. Most of the locals even have a hard time remembering the last time Deep Valley celebrated All Hallows Eve without the band appearing in some form or fashion. Old man Wichum swears the group performed at the 1958 Halloween Hayride. The teenagers will hear nothing of it. No way the hottest rock group around has been around for fifty years.

“What do they do the rest of the year?” Sarah Bly asks the old man.

“Well I suppose theys play elsewheres,” replies Wichum. “Prolly makes their ways to New Yark City or Los Angel-eez.”

“Must be,” adds Sarah’s friend Tad Layt. “must be.”

For Deep Valley the arrival of the Deadbeats and the annual fall festival means the largest gathering of towns folks all year long. This is their Fourth of July and Christmas all rolled into one. Without this night and the weeks of preparation leading up to it the holidays that follow cannot happen as traditionally planned. The fall harvest provides the bounty for the remaining year’s celebrations.

“Is something on fire?” says Sarah looking down at the fog surrounding her feet.

“Naw,” replies the old man. “They’z arrived.”

Through the clearing Sarah can see the front of a shiny black bus. Across the top just above the window are the words “The Deadbeats Tour 2008.”

“They’re here!” she shouts. “The Deadbeats are here!”

A silence comes over the town’s main street as the bus passes by. In minutes the large dark vehicle carrying the evening’s guests of honor disappears behind the lodge. Almost immediately the normal hustle and bustle of preparing for the festival resumes as if nothing had happened.

“Do you think they’ll come out before the show?” asks Sarah.

“Naw,” mumbles the old man. “They never do.”

There was a time when the people of Deep Valley would debate the reasons for the band only appearing onstage when in town. It used to be a topic of heated discussion, almost as hot a topic as the town having to agree that all its citizens be free of alcohol the week of the festival for the privilege of having the band perform each year. These days it is just accepted as the norm, a common occurrence that no longer requires explanation.

The fog thickens as darkness sets in, in the clearing just on edge of town drums echo. It is a signal that the festival has begun. Folks from all over the valley arrive carrying their harvest donation for the celebration that will soon begin. In no time the clearing is full of people. No one dare miss the show. Missing it brings the fear that it will disrupt the balance of life for the remainder of the season.

Suddenly the valley erupts in an explosion of sound. The curtain drops revealing four men dressed head to toe in black leather and attacking musical instruments as if trying to keep them at bay. The sound is nearly deafening and the crowd cheers in response.

“Are you ready for the ha-a-a-arvest!” Screams the Deadbeat prowling near the front of the makeshift stage. “It’s time for the celebrat-shun! It’s time for the feast!”

The people of Deep Valley move closer each trying to get their harvest offering to the stage. Getting their offering onto the stage is considered a great honor. Being the first is believed to bring great fortune and health.

Sarah, struggling to keep up with her father is suddenly lifted into his arms and pushed towards the stage. Her heart is racing. Sarah can suddenly feel her feet touch the hard wood of the stage. She looks around in excitement and is met by the red-eyed stare of the closest Deadbeat.

“Are you ready?” he asks smiling. “Are you ready for the feast?”

Up close Sarah can clearly see his sharp-toothed grin.

A scream echoes across Deep Valley.

In the distance an old man laughs and walks away.

Clash of Titan-ic Proportions

As many nostalgia buffs flock to movie theaters to check out the 2010 remake of 1981 adventure/scifi classic "Clash of the Titans", just as many seem to be flocking to video stores to pick up copies of the original DVD release as well as recent remastered re-release.

It only took one glance at the trailer for the newly released remake to make me want two things - to not only see this new adaptation but to revisit the original as well. Unfortunately I was not alone in my desire to watch the original 1981 cheeky film and found area storms plum sold out! Luckily for me, and a few family members, one of my brother-in-laws was in town and we set about for a small family viewing and I have to say, as cheesy as the effects come off now, the film is just as enjoyable as when I watched it for the first time in an Atlanta movie theater years ago...and then countless times on television. Some movies I guess just stand the test of time.

Now by even 1981 standards, "Clash of the Titans" was a little behind as far as special effects are concerned. The film actually makes a nod to original adventure/scifi stop animation films of the sixties such as Jason and the Argonauts and the countless Sinbad movies that came out during that time. In 1981 it had already been a few years since Star Wars blew kids and adults alike away with stunning visuals. But somehow "Clash of the Titans" worked and oddly enough...still works.

While perhaps the visuals were not that ground breaking, the cast itself was stellar featuring such great actors of the day such as Laurence Olivier as Zues, Claire Bloom as Hera, Ursela Andress as Aphrodite, Jack Gwillem as Poseidon, and Burgess Meredith as Ammon. Throw in young up and coming actor Harry Hamlin as hero and leading character Perseus and what a cast!

In "Clash of the Titans" a baby Perseus and his mother are sent off into exile via a crate dumped into the sea. This is the first of many pieces that parallel parts of the bible in very interesting fashion. The two land on an island, Persius grows up, is courted by Zeus (who turns out to be his father) to reclaim his birth kingdom, and before you know it, Persius is off to save the princess and battle giant scorpions, blind Stygian witches, not to mention mythological characters such as Medusa and the Kraken.

"Clash of the Titans" circa 1981 is one of my fave movies of all time and I'm hoping that the new version at least comes close to living up to the original. But why take my word for it? Check out the entire original film itself below...and then watch the trailer for the 2010 remake.

Purgatory & the Musical Interlude

It seems like my whole life has revolved around music. Yeah the good times have always had a lot to do with music and the bad times? Music has always been there whether it be as an additional dagger...or an invisible blanket of comfort to get wrapped up in. No matter what, through thick and thin, music has always been my friend. Caring when needed, sharing when prompted, honest even when the truth hurts the most.

In 1981 I was forced to deal with my final move as an official military brat. For years my life not only revolved around music but also a circle of seemingly never-ending upheavals as my family moved from base to base every two to four years. When I was younger it didn't quite seem as much a big deal as it was another new exciting adventure. Eventually the whole migration process turned into a chance for me to improve myself with an entirely new group of kids who never knew my past faults and shortcomings.

My father's last assignment before our move in 1981 was a three-year stint in Hochst, Germany just outside of the city of Frankfurt. I'll have to admit, for the first time I was heartbroken to be somewhere new and terribly missed the hills and valleys and friends of Fort Riley, Kansas. I can still remember lying in my bed on the top floor of our temporary apartment listening to music with my super-sized 1970's headphones on and crying while I stared straight up at the angled ceiling that covered my room. I'm not sure if this is the first time I ever felt alone but I still remember it being the most lost I had felt up to that point in my life. I was a few months shy of my eleventh birthday and the only friends I had in this strange new place were a AM/FM cassette recorder, some store bought cassettes, a mixed tape of KISS tunes that a friend had made me in Kansas, some pencils, and a drawing pad. I only left that room to eat, shower, visit the latrine, and go to school.

After a few months passed we finally moved into our regular apartment in Hochst but while it was another move and another new set of neighborhood kids, it was close enough not to make a change in where I went to school. I spent the next three years transforming from a little snot-nosed kid into a typical teenage boy. Gone were the thoughts of comic books and gadgets replaced with a larger obsession with music and of course girls. Despite a few "issues" I had found a place where I belonged. It was like I had discovered a magical place where time and space met head on and merged perfectly. The friends were good, the girls were great, and the music? even better. Life was close to perfect...until...the inevitable happened.

I had just started to kick off what was to be another great summer wandering around the expansive area that was Frankfurt and all of it's "burgs." There would be sports, swimming, going to the movies, camping out, riding the train into Frankfurt on the weekends to chase girls around the floor at the skating rink. I was on such a high that I was sure that I could never be knocked back down. That's when Dad gave me the news.

When it was told to me that come October we would be moving back stateside I pretty much just became numb. I can only compare it to getting the greatest gift in the world only to have someone yell "psych!" For three years I had pretty much forgotten those months alone in temporary quarters and all of a sudden here I was again...lying on my bed with my headphones on listening to music with a multitude of thoughts rushing through my head. I remember my Dad once coming in and telling me "I know it's rough but you're wasting what little time you have here and now." Putting my headphones back on was my reality. Perhaps Dennis DeYoung of Styx said it best - "Welcome to the Grand Illusion..." My illusion of anything grand was shattered.

Fast forward to later that year in our new digs in Atlanta, Georgia. New bed, same radio, more tunes, different ceiling. For the first time in my life I found myself in a school not made up of military kids. I was a shaggy-haired denim clad teenager in a building full of Izod wearing privileged kids. Where once I was used to a mixed bag of friends from all nations, creeds, and colors, I suddenly found myself in a mostly all-white school of well-off spoiled kids that I had nothing in common with. But just as soon as I had latched onto the naive notion that I was the sole outcast in this school of what I deemed aliens, I came across a pair of similar oddballs in a white kid who lived in a trailer park just up the street from me and a tall black kid who looked kinda like Rog from "What's Happenin'" and who just happened to also play a mean rock guitar.

Now going to Rog's house was cool. Very cool. Rog's Mom was always cooking up some fine southern vittles while a myriad of kids came and went swapping back and forth between listening to the local rock radio station, playing records, and jamming on cool rock covers. All of a sudden in what I thought was a desert of hopelessness, I found a musical oasis filled with every tasty note possible and Rog never failed to make me a new cassette to take home with me each time I would visit. The first two Blizzard of Oz albums with Randy Rhoads, Journey's "Escape", lots of AC/DC, the Rolling Stones "Tattoo You", Joan Jett's breakthrough release "I Love Rock & Roll", not to mention cool tunes by Van Halen, April Wine, and my personal fave at the time, Aldo Nova's debut, were my bible. All of a sudden being surrounded by snooty pointy-nosed kids with too much cologne and perfume didn't matter. I would just smirk and stroll on by when encountered with a snarky remark or dirty look. I was an individual in a sea full of look-a-like guppies and I was proud of it.

I had entered prep purgatory and became saved by a musical interlude. Now I have the pleasure of doing what I love...through music. Wonder how many of those Atlanta lemmings have gone on to do the same.

Music...my friend for life.

Tears in a Bottle

If I could catch your tears
I’d bottle them up
Save them for a Sunny day
When it’s not quite rainy enough

I’d sprinkle them on me
A little bit at a time
And be washed in your heartache
Just enough to remind


Me, that you’re hurtin, just like I do
Hope like rain, on a sunny day
That a rainbow shines through
You, must be wonderin, when your time is due
Let me carry your tears away
In a bottle, for you

If I could grab each drop
That falls from your face
I’d lock them up inside my heart
Where they’re sure to be safe
I’d sip on them slowly
From time to time
So I can taste your heartbreak
Just enough to remind

Me, that you’re hurtin, just like I do
Hope like rain, on a sunny day
That a rainbow shines through
You, must be wonderin, when your time is due
Let me carry your tears away
In a bottle, for you

Hey There Junior

In case you might be wondering, the picture just to the left is from my old school - Frankfurt American Junior High in Frankfurt, Germany. The picture is from what I can tell, a rough scan taken from the 1980/81 yearbook which means that buried in the middle of all those plastic winter jackets and faded blue jean clad kids could be yours truly. What does this have to do with pop culture? Well Frankfurt, Germany circa 1978-1981 had a ton to do with my personal cultural upbringing and after all, this blog IS about the pop culture junkie that is John J. Cannon.

To be honest I actually lived in a military housing area in Höchst which, while part of Frankfurt am Main, was situated between Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, and Mainz Germany. This made for an interesting time as we were located smack in the middle of a mainly German area yet still had cool stuff like an AYA (American Youth Activities) center, gym, bowling alley, movie theater, snack bar, etc. While other military "brats" may have lived in a much larger housing area, I lived in one that had about eight buildings which housed three stairwells of apartments each. This actually made for a closer knit group of kids to hang out with creating a sort of gang-like bond. (Gang in like good way) It was pretty much like living in any other American neighborhood in the late seventies. We'd ride our bikes, hang out, play sports seasonally, etc. When we felt froggy it cost very little to jump on the bus/train/subway and head into Frankfurt for all kinds of cool stuff like hitting the big Post Exchange, head shop, skating rink, and every Franfurt teenage partiers dream spot...Gruenenburg Park. (think the kids on "That 70's Show" sitting around the table in Eric Foreman's basement and you'll get my drift!)

Now in late seventies Germany I, like many other red-blooded American males had only two things on my mind - music and girls, and a lot of times they usually went hand-in-hand. I cannot recall too many moments NOT hanging out with either a) a boombox cranking the likes of Ted Nugent, Rush, or Aerosmith, b) Farrah Fawcett haired girls, or c) both. This oddly enough created a situation which would amount to getting in the least amount of trouble. Hanging out with the just the guys somehow always ended up with someone tanked, bloodied, bruised or worse yet...something set on fire. This might explain why I didn't get in too much trouble between 1978 and 1981. I mean, I did things that COULD have gotten me in trouble but no one is trying to be too loud when...well you probably get the idea.

Not that "no trouble around girls" rule never seemed to work at Frankfurt American Junior High. My fascination, obsession, whatever, with girls constantly made me late for class or got me in trouble in class. Once I remember in math class (a class I hated then and still hated when I took in college a while back) I got detention for making out with a girl. Why I ever thought I wouldn't be seen is beyond me. I guess maybe I just didn't care. To make matters worse, I was busted making out with the same girl in detention which led to more detention and you guessed it - a third offense which led to a short suspension. Was it worth it? I'm sure I thought so then.

Now if the above paragraph makes me sound like some 13-year-old Don Juan then think again. I was about as experienced as a rookie ballplayer and shyer than a scared puppy. But I sure had fun learning!

When I wasn't trying to be with girls I was daydreaming about girls and that usually meant lying on my bed (slow down - it gets way less interesting perves!) with a giant set of headphones on listening to any of my numerous record albums with thoughts of minimalistic teenage rock & roll debauchery bouncing around in my head. It was usually Styx or Boston for romantic thoughts, Nugent or Van Halen for dirty thoughts, and Rush or Pink Floyd during many moments of utter confusion in regards to the fairer sex. Yeah we all grow up to realize that chicks are hard to figure out...well they were hard to figure out then we were just too young and stupid to realize it!

Now as teenagers sharing a common school but spread out across the expansive area known as Frankfurt we would have to gather to see each other outside of school and that usually happened at one of three places - football games, Gruenenburg Park, or the skating rink and each had their pros and cons. The skating rink was cool due to the low lighting, loud music, and close proximity to pizza. Many Friday and Saturday nights were spent huddling in dark corners. Football games were fun only if you left and walked into town or took the path into Gruenenburg Park where you were pretty much free to do whatever the hell you wanted to. This usually involved everything from getting high, to drinking beer or Jagermeister to of course...being naughty. I can 100% pinpoint Gruenenburg Park as the place I first got high, drunk, and past first base. But one particular day stands out as the funnest day I had there and that was the day that was SUPPOSED to be my second to last day in Europe.

I was set to run my final track meet before flying back to the states and way before the race I had decided that winning, or even placing, was pointless. So once the gun went off I took off around the track and headed into the park. (the race went through there and then back to the track for one more lap) This was a distance race and the rest of the runners must have thought I was nuts...but I had a plan. I ran into the park well before anyone else and there were some friends (names withheld for sake of possible repercussions) waiting with a nice collection of Henninger beer, a pipe, and some hash. As the other runners breezed by I caught a nice buzz, kissed a pretty girl, then headed towards the field. Somehow I still managed to come in fourth. Not good enough to place but not bad considering that I "floated" across the finish line! Needless to say I promptly threw on my sweats and headed off for a great afternoon and night of drinking, listening to tunes, and saying farewell to friends.

Sadly this was the last of the good times for a while. We temporarily moved to Atlanta, Georgia and I, with my long hair and jeans, was forced to spend a year in a school surrounded my stuffy preppies who listened to the worst possible music ever. It was hell! But thank God on the last day of school we relocated to Augusta and while I would not call my life a "dream" life it improved 100% over the stay in Atlanta.

So now it's like twenty-five plus years later. Even though I rarely drink and never get high I still love my music loud and still cherish those fond crazy memories of living in Germany!

If only I could just find a way to get back into those size 29 jeans!