Special to Page 2
I seriously think you can craft the argument that in the past 50 years, there has been more great music than at any other 50-year increment in world history.
This comes to mind because the holiday weekend brought with it a couple of things.
One, a precious extra day to meet my deadline for the weekly Water Cooler, which would have been a hell of a lot more useful if "The Sopranos" had actually aired on Sunday night. I could have watched in relaxed pleasure, as opposed to the usual glance-at-clock thought of "Oh, sweet Jesus, I have to send that thing in to Bristol, and I haven't conjured an original thought since Friday." Instead, it was "Clerks" on one of my seven HBOs. Like HBO-KS, all Kevin Smith flicks, all the time. Nice, yes. But I wanted some "Sopranos." What are you gonna do?
The other thing Memorial Day weekend brought was that most precious of American traditions -- the local oldies station in San Francisco dusting off the obligatory "Memorial Day Countdown," which is essentially an excuse for DJs to take the three-day weekend off and just press 'play' on the 997-song tape/CD prepared by corporate HQ.
So, back to that 50 Year Argument.
The reason I say this is, I actually found myself seeking out the oldies station. More surprising, I actually derived enjoyment from the type of radio station I normally associate with background music at a car mechanic's garage, or at a middle-of-the-road diner, playing on a scratchy radio in the kitchen for the short order cook who is cobbling together your Monday morning eggs benedict.
And like I said -- from about 1954 to about 2004, we've put together the Best Run in Music History.
It's actually sort of an easy argument. Every other 50-year increment has been, in essence, a one-trick pony: Baroque from Bach, Operas from Mozart, Ragtime from Joplin.
To the contrary, the 997-song countdown offered by the S.F. oldies station KFRC produced disparate emotions, various beats and generally strong moods.
Take, for example, The Eagles' "Already Gone," a tune that registered in the mid-500s in the countdown. Yes, an undignified number on the list, but a revisit to the song on a sunny Sunday afternoon in the right mood makes you realize that a good, old-fashioned, kick-ass American rock guitar riff can rescue a day. Imagine hearing the Eagles' "Already Gone" in a pub somewhere in Europe, when you're traveling, but homesick. I'd predict a serious adrenaline rush, especially if you're down about four pints of Guinness.
The good vibes kept on coming. At No. 324, "Rock the Boat" by the Hues Corporation -- a band name nearly as good as "The Brothers Johnson," who recorded "Strawberry Letter 23," a tune I have not as yet heard on the countdown, but which deserves a spot. (I'm listening as I write. We're in the mid 150s. I'll keep you posted.)
Anyway, "Rock the Boat." Very strong. Not quite as strong as the song at No. 322 -- "Love Train," by the O'Jays. (Parenthetical aside: I once read where Reggie Jackson said his ultimate dream was to be an O'Jay. Imagine. "My real dream is to be an O'Jay," said the man who hit 583 major-league home runs. A strong endorsement for "Love Train." Tell all the folks in Russia and China, too.)
Throw in the Doobie Brothers' "China Grove" in the 200s somewhere -- another one of those hear-in-a-pub-in-Europe-and-feel-an-American-adrenaline-rush songs -- and you're starting to cobble together an argument that the last half-century wins, in a blowout.
I'm not saying it's all good. Somehow, "Down in the Boondocks" by Billy Joe Royal got in there. Don't ask me why. And "Lay, Lady, Lay" by Bob Dylan made it into the 150s. That song can never be taken seriously after an obscure Will Ferrell-Robert Duvall skit on "SNL." If you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about.
But The Drifters' "Under the Boardwalk"? Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered"? Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Lookin' Out My Back Door"?
So good. So good.
All worth an annual revisit.
Makes a guy sad to bid a three-day weekend farewell.
On, then, to the Weekend List of Five:
1. The Museum of the Hard to Believe
Am I officially Old because I preferred NBC's David Letterman to CBS' David Letterman?
NBC Letterman had so many -- so many -- epic comedy sketches, you have to believe it will be an era unrivaled in TV comedy, when our lifetimes are all said and done. I will make an exception for the Conan O'Brien comedy team, who came up with "The Coked-Up Werewolf" and anything by Robert Smigel, putting them on nearly the same level.
Anyway, it seems hard to believe the NBC Letterman would do anything as organized and as mainstream as co-own an Indy 500 racing team. But times change, people change and hairstyles change, so there was Dave -- unshaven, and with his front teeth alarmingly resembling unkempt tombstones -- cheering on his boy Buddy Rice to a milk-splashed Indy 500 victory.
Fair play, too. Dave's presence took the Indy 500 -- sadly fading on the American sports radar -- and gave it some juice. Plus, we got to see Dave get the Red Ass when it was suggested that Rice won because of the rain delay. Dave kept his resentment under control, but did firmly suggest that Rice was the best driver on the track, and Rice's car was the best car on the track. Still, you could see him trying not to seethe. Just a small glimpse of what it might have been like backstage after Crispin Glover tried to decapitate Dave with a kung-fu kick back in 1987.
Anyway -- cheers, Dave. Surely, Carson would have liked to own a piece of Bjorn Borg's action back in his Wimbledon days. And your guy Leno had to be frosted, thinking he's the Gearhead King of Late-Night TV, and all. You? You're living the dream.
2. Robby Gordon: Will You Carpool With Me?
So let me get this straight: Robby Gordon raced the Indy 500, then flew to Charlotte on the same day for 400 laps of NASCAR?
Can you, the commuting American of 2004, ponder that much time behind the wheel -- in one day? You have got to be absolutely joking. No way in hell. Not even with air-conditioning and CD players.
Let me give you a glimpse of what it's like in the Murphy Household if my lovely and talented wife is making dinner and needs an ingredient:
Lovely and Talented: Honey, we need some ketchup. Can you go get some?
Me, Knowing It Is Merely a 90-Second Drive to the Store: Aw, come on. Really? That means I have to get in the car, drive it down the hill, park it, get the ketchup, get back IN the car, drive it back UP the hill, and park it ... AGAIN?
Lovely and Talented: Fine, then. We'll go without ketchup.
Lovely and Talented, Sighing to Herself: Why didn't I marry Robby Gordon?
3. That Reds Fan: You Are Busted
In the middle of an otherwise routine Top 10 Plays on "SportsCenter," I stumbled into witnessing the crime against humanity that was the Austin Kearns Bat Incident.
Went like this: In wet climes, Kearns lost his bat on a swing. Two Reds fans grabbed it from over the railing. They decided to settle ownership the Old School Way -- what my neighborhood called "Ro-Sham-Bo," or what other neighborhoods call "Rock, Paper, Scissors."
To my incredulity, a third fan -- the one wearing a T-shirt in the form of a rain hat on his head -- somehow crashed the proceedings and claimed one-third ownership of the bat. Note, for posterity, this T-Shirt-Cum-Hat-Wearing Fan had no grip on the bat originally. That was Problem Number One.
My biggest Problem came next, however. In replays painstakingly detailed by "SportsCenter," he participated in a three-way Ro-Sham-Bo and -- here is the unforgivable crime -- CLEARLY CAME LATE WITH HIS OFFERING when the other two had already showed their plays.
That is to say -- one guy showed paper, another guy showed rock, and then T-Shirt-Cum-Hat-Wearing Fan waited a full two seconds, before offering up paper to cover the one sap who offered rock.
What was more unbelievable was that the other two guys accepted this turn of events!
By all rights, the guy coming late into Ro-Sham-Bo -- not to mention a guy who never had an original grip on the Kearns loose bat -- should have been folded, spindled and mutilated by outraged Reds fans. Instead, the guy who showed rock bowed out ... only to see T-Shirt-Cum-Hat-Wearing-Fan win the bat in the next round of Ro-Sham-Bo.
Witnessing this on my couch, I was beyond miffed. I was outraged! I even replayed it on TiVo, in slow motion, to verify this guy's unforgivable tardiness in his first-round offering.
This guy has to sleep with knowledge of his crime. I hope that bat, somewhere in his bedroom, begins to beat with a life of its own, like the heart in Poe's "Tell Tale Heart." Or, I hope wherever he goes, he hears Phil Collins singing the words from "In the Air Tonight": "Well, I was there/And I saw what you did/I saw it with my own two eyes ... You can wipe off that grin/I know where you've been/It's all been a pack of lies ..."
Cue Collins' drum bit there.
We're on to you, Reds Fan.
4. The Lakers: Of Course
Come on, Laker Hater.
You didn't really want Minnesota to win that series, did you?
I direct those comments, of course, to those outside the land of 10,000 lakes.
I direct those comments to those who wish, hope, pray for Laker Death, immediately, if not sooner.
Admit it. In your darkest of souls, you know that the Lakers in the Finals is a good thing. It's drama. It's theatre. It's the Team You Love to Hate.
Take it from me, an avowed 1980s-era Laker Hater.
I used to root for the Lakers to go 0-82 and, failing that, to not win the NBA Finals in four consecutive games.
I wanted every Western Conference team to stop Magic, Kareem, Michael Cooper and Mychal Thompson ... and always was denied.
And now, I look back at those days, and I look back fondly.
As an older man, a wiser soul, I can appreciate the Villain Role the Lakers filled so beautifully. In fact, I find myself perversely appreciating the '80s Lakers now, and feel somewhat nostalgic for them. Most alarmingly, I find myself defending them as one of the great NBA Dynasties of All-Time.
It, too, can happen to you. Check back in 10 years time. You'll feel nostalgic about the Kobe-Shaq Lakers. Trust me. It's a weird, sick thing. But it's a thing.
5. An Idle, Random Thought on the name Barry
Heard a radio spot in the Bay Area where Barry Zito mentions "The Other Barry" in the Bay Area, and it got me to thinking: Has a metropolitan sports area ever seen two stars in the same era, and the same sport ... with a more bizarre first name than Barry?
I mean, how many people named Barry do you know?
I know one fellow sportswriter named Barry. Good guy. Excellent writer. But he's the only Barry I know. In fact, forget sportswriting. He's the ONLY other Barry I can think of. Ever!
Then along come Barry Zito and Barry Bonds.
How many other Barrys are there?
There's Barry Gibb, I guess. Barry Manilow, I guess. And Barry Williams, of course. Greg Brady always gets a nod from this corner.
Does Rick Barry count? Or Lionel Barrymore?
Bizarre.
Wait! I nearly forgot.
Barry White.
There's always a place for the Basso Profundo of Love on any Memorial Day Oldies List, isn't there?
Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes every week for Page 2.
