Kimopolis

My kind of town.

Posts Tagged ‘Music’

Mondegreen is PEOPLE!

Posted by kimlno on May 5, 2009

Preface: A mondegreen is the mishearing or misinterpretation of a phrase, usually in a song. The concept is nothing new, in fact there are several websites dedicated entirely to misheard lyrics. That being said, in doing research for this article (See how I’ve created my own little fantasy world where I refer to these posts as “articles” like I write for a newspaper or a magazine? Hilarious, no?) I checked out a few of those sites, and I have to tell you, I think people are just making stuff up. No, really. It’s like they took the published lyrics and ran them through a “rhyme machine” then picked the ones they thought were the funniest. How lame/stupid is that? Whatever, these are my very own 100% true lyrical errors, and, let’s be completely honest, isn’t everything better when I’m the one telling the story? Exactly. Proceed!

In the olden days, when iPods were called the “radio” and CDs were giant disks made of shiny black vinyl, the lyrics of any song were open to interpretation. If you couldn’t quite decipher what the lead singer was saying, even after picking up the needle, moving it back a smidge, and listening to it again, most people just made up words that seemed to make sense. Occasionally, you’d hit the Lyric Jackpot and an album would come with the words to the songs printed on the sleeve, but that wasn’t always foolproof. Sometimes those crazy rock and rollers liked to mix things up in the recording session and tweak the lyrics to their liking. And then there are a whole slew of bands that really didn’t want their listeners to know exactly what they were saying, so they mumbled a lot. Famous mumblers include Bob Dylan, Kurt Cobain, and James Brown. Sure, they are all musical geniuses, but exact enunciation was not of utmost importance.

The only way a person would know if the lyrics he used were incorrect was if someone else was singing along with him, in the car let’s say, and brought it to his immediate attention. This usually took the form of enthusiastic mockery and the verbal assault of incredulity of one’s unprecedented stupidity.

Without further ado, here are five examples of my lyrical misconceptions:

Song: “Come Sail Away” by Styx
My Lyrics: I’m sailing away, set an open course for the Virgin Sea
Actual Lyrics: I’m sailing away, set an open course full of urgency

Now, I ask you, don’t my lyrics make more sense? I mean, he’s sailing, right? And where do you sail? On the sea, right? The Virgin Sea was obviously the waters surrounding the Virgin ISLANDS, no? Even when I was older, and I had learned that the ocean surrounding the Virgin Islands was called the Caribbean* I STILL justified my lyrics by thinking the “virgin sea” was just a jaunty seafaring term for undiscovered waters. When I finally learned of the actual lyrics, my initial response was, “How dumb.” I mean, really. “Full of urgency” makes it sound as if Denis DeYoung has to tinkle, not sail away. And, let’s be realistic here, if one needs to go somewhere urgently, wouldn’t an airplane be a more logical choice than a dinghy? Moving on…

“Little Red Corvette” by Prince
My Lyrics: Well, honey, I said feel it comin’
Actual Lyrics: Well, honey, I said little red corvette

I know. How could I be so oblivious? The truth is, I didn’t really know much about Prince until Purple Rain came out, and I never went back to investigate his older stuff until I was much older, and that included the album 1999. So, therefore, I’d never actually seen the title of Little Red Corvette written down. I knew the song, but the fact that it was about a car went completely over my head. Oops. My bad. Years later, when Prince officially changed his name into an unpronounceable symbol, forcing everyone refer to him as “The Artist Formerly Known as Prince,” and then reneged said decree not long afterward, I figured we were about even.

“Golden Slumbers” by The Beatles
My Lyrics: Once there was a way to get back on a word
Actual Lyrics: Once there was a way to get back homeward

Some of you might be scratching your heads right about now and thinking, “What does ‘get back on a word’ even MEAN?” And to that I say, “I don’t know!” To get back on a word was obviously just a grown-up way of saying “take that back!” It was an expression of regret, y’know, like when you’ve said something really horrible to someone and you wish you could travel back in time and un-say it. Look, Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees were completely devastated! Peter only true love, Strawberry, was dead, and it was all Steven Tyler and Joe Perry’s fault! Pete just wanted to take back the harsh words he unleashed on Strawberry when she caught him getting a bit too friendly with that manipulative slut, Lucy. If Billy Preston hadn’t shown up when he did, Peter would’ve successfully committed suicide. (I bet you didn’t know Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was so dramatic, did you?) In reality, I was just a little kid and my only real defense is that it made sense at the time. Plus, the next line of lyrics is: Once there was a way to get back home. So, why would John and Paul use practically the same exact words twice? I mean, they were two of the greatest song writers of ALL TIME, and you expect me to believe that they couldn’t think of another word besides “home?” It doesn’t even rhyme, for crying out loud!

“When I Grow Up” by The Pussycat Dolls
Disclaimer: Although the Pussycat Dolls are an abomination and should be stopped for encouraging innocent little girls to become Pole Dancers, this is an awesome song to work out to, so save your music critique. I know, okay?
My Lyrics: When I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna have boobies
Actual Lyrics: When I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna have groupies

I don’t know about you, but when I was a little girl, I wanted to have boobies WAY MORE than I wanted to have groupies. Hey, I’m just sayin’. And yes, I did want to be famous and a star, too. But I suppose the actual lyrics make more sense than my lyrics when evaluating the song as a cohesive collection of thoughts (bet you never imagined you’d see the word “thought” associated with the PCD, did you?). “Boobies” just works better for me. It’s a personal choice. Boobies Bonus: now that I am older and have been generously blessed by the Booby Fairy, I can work accentuating my top-notch rack into the performance of the song. (Don’t ask.)

“Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2
My Lyrics: Someday, buddy, someday
Actual Lyrics: Sunday, Bloody Sunday

This particular lyric mishap wins, hands down, the Most Totally Moded, Bag Your Face award. You see, I sang those completely incorrect lyrics quite loudly at a U2 concert, until the people in the row in front of me took the time to correct me. Thanks. Perhaps some of you might remember a prior reference to this concert. That’s because it was chock full of awkward teenage moments that no amount of therapy could ever allow me to forget. As well as being completely and utterly mortified when I discovered that the lyrics I was singing weren’t the lyrics to the song AT ALL, and the fact that the central message of the lyrics was crucial to the song even being written, this is also the concert where I smoked at least a whole pack of Marlboro Reds by myself. Not surprisingly, I haven’t touched a cigarette since. It may also explain why I don’t particularly care for U2.

Well, I think I’ve aired enough of my dirty laundry for one day. If you have any real mondegreen humdingers, I’d love to hear them. Until then, I bid you adieu.

*Do you say Care-a-BEE-an or Ca-RIB-ee-an? Heh. That reminds me of a funny story. In college, I threw an end of the session party for the peeps in my class. We were all about to embark on different paths to higher learning, and since we’d been in the same classes for a considerable amount of time, I felt it was appropriate to have one last hurrah. We were an eclectic bunch, to say the least, and one guy in particular was known only as “the Quiet Dude.” He was the guy who never said anything, ever, unless he had to. And that was cool with me (more time for me to talk, natch). So, there we were, about six or seven of us out on my balcony, because I didn’t allow people to smoke in my apartment…well, not cigarettes anyway. We were having the conversation you have with people who grew up in different parts of the world about proper pronunciation. Y’know, the “you say po-TAY-tow, I say po-TOT-toe” rigmarole. When we had pretty much exhausted our combined knowledge of vocabulary choices, the Quiet Dude says, “Do you say CLITTER-is or clit-TOR-is?” And for one one-hundredth of a second it got so quiet you could hear a pin drop, which was immediately followed by uproarious laughter the likes of which I’ve yet to encounter again. Here’s to all the “Quiet Dudes” out there, you may not say much, but when you do, it’s awesome.**

**Heh. Heh. Heh. That story reminds me of another pronunciation conversation I had with two lovely Canadians whilst I was visiting the beautiful city of Vancouver. Well, Vancouver is in Canada, as you well know, and the general consensus amongst most Americans is that they (the Canucks) talk funny. So imagine my surprise when upon arrival I was immediately accosted regarding how I pronounce certain words. I mean, I’d literally just stepped off the plane and into the car when the “Laugh-at-the-silly-American” game ensued. If you haven’t played that game before, it’s kind of like charades but with words. The trick is, the Canadian cannot say the actual word they have in mind, because then it wouldn’t be as funny, and it would turn into a game of “Laugh-at-the-silly-Canadian.” The three words I was to guess were: decal, badminton and lieutenant. It was so strange. I had never had anyone mock my accent before, because I don’t have one. Or, at least, I don’t think I do. It’s not like I’m from the South or Brooklyn or anything. I suppose I say “like” too often and probably “oh my god” more than necessary, but other than those language markers no one would know I was from California just from hearing me speak. Would they? ANYeh, you may now return to the previous article already in progress.

loserEditor’s Note: Um, yeah. So as I was scouring the interwebs to find an image to add to this post, I came across some rather significant information that would’ve been considerably more helpful had I discovered it BEFORE I published this. But, I am all about owning up to my mistakes no matter how really, really stupid they are. Turns out, Dennis DeYoung is not the imbecile I accused him of being. See, the ACTUAL lyrics to “Come Sail Away” ARE “set an open course for the virgin sea,” and NOT “set an open course full of urgency.” The latter would be entirely MY own creation, and officially makes ME the imbecile. Whoops. That being said, I still think what I wrote was funny, so I’m not going to edit it out just to save face.

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Does Barry Manilow Know That You Raid His Wardrobe?

Posted by kimlno on March 12, 2009

In 1977, the year Jimmy Carter was elected as our 39th President of the United States, I was introduced to Barry Manilow by my Aunt Judy. Not the man himself (I would never be that lucky), but his songs, by way of a totally dated music format, the 8-track. My aunt was WAY ahead of her time; most automobiles back then were only equipped with radios (an AM radio, not one of those fancy-schmancy technologically advanced AM/FM radios). To this day, my aunt remains to be the only person I have ever met who had an 8-track player in her car. What can I say? My aunt Judy was cool.

Sonny and Cher Dolls.

Sonny and Cher Dolls.

During summer vacations, I would frequently go over to my aunt and uncle’s house in Calabasas and hang out with my cousins. Why? They had a pool. Plain and simple. Plus, her daughter, Mandy, is my same age, and she had a TON of Barbies and Barbie accouterments. Mandy owned the most coveted Barbie of all, which wasn’t really a Barbie…it was a Cher doll. And let me tell you, Cher had a ridiculously awesome wardrobe for a doll, not to mention long black hair that hung down practically to her ankles. Mandy always had the best toys. *SIGH*

On a typical day we would spend half the time in the pool, or until our fingertips puckered, began to turn white and peel off, and then the rest of the day we’d play Barbies in Mandy’s room. It was about as close to paradise a 6-year-old could get. Often, after we’d spent hours getting Barbie and her friends properly dressed, styled, and settled in Barbie’s Townhouse with its real working elevator (See? I TOLD you she had the best toys), her brother Cam would burst into the room, grab the Barbie Townhouse with both hands, and proceed to violently shake the Townhouse back and forth while screaming, “EARTHQUAKE!” Barbie, her friends, and all her furniture would be flung free of the structure creating what can only be described as a Barbie Massacre. As a kid, my cousin Cam was a total dick. Mandy may have had the best toys, but she had the worst brother. Cam constantly made me thankful that I was an only child.

Whenever my aunt had errands to run, she’d coerce us into going with her by dangling the promise of a special “surprise” if we behaved ourselves. Really, we had no choice in the matter. Who would leave two small children at home alone while she went shopping? Hmm. That’s strange. I don’t remember Cam ever joining us on our excursions. I wonder what Judy did with him when we went with her on errands?

ANYsheprobablylockedhimintheclosetuntilwereturnedbutthatispurelyconjectureasIhavenoproof, we’d all squeeze into the front seat of her big diesel Mercedes, and because I was the shortest, I had to sit in the middle…on the dreaded bump. Not the seat bump, in this instance, but the floor bump. As far as the seat was concerned, I was situated in the crevasse, so to speak. Sometimes, when both my aunt and my cousin exited the automobile at the same time, the crevasse would close up and before I could slide out of the car, the back of my thighs would be pinched between the seat cushions. It was a small price to pay in order to have absolute power over the tape deck. Every once in a while, my aunt would allow Mandy and me to sit together in the backseat and pretend like she was our chauffeur, but she preferred it if we all sat together in the front.

Barry Manilow Live 8-Track Tape.

Barry Manilow Live 8-Track Tape.

It seems like the only tape that was ever in the deck was Barry Manilow Live. It was blue and it stuck out just enough to be able to read the title and see Barry’s upside-down disembodied head. In a related anecdote, the first time I saw the album cover in its entirety I was SHOCKED to Barry sporting a skin-tight, powder blue jumpsuit. After seeing that, there was no doubt that Barry was indeed Jewish, if you get my drift. We listened to that tape so often that I still have most of the album memorized. It starts off with cheering and music, and then some lady (I assume one of his back-up singers) announces, “Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Barry Manilow!” With that, the music changes to a psst-ta psst-ta psst-ta beat (very “Solid Gold”). A few bars of that finger-snapping rhythm, and the MANilow himself says, “Hello New York!” and immediately launches into a jazzy rendition of “Riders to the Stars,” that is so exhilarating it could wake the dead. All three of us would sing along as we made our way down Ventura Boulevard to Gemco.
GemCo, in my humble opinion, was the best store to ever exist in the entire universe. It was like 10 stores in one. There was nothing you couldn’t buy at Gemco. Now, those kind of places are a dime a dozen (Wal-Mart, Target, etc.), but back in 1976 that store was special and unique. They sold everything from fine jewelry to groceries to clothes. They also sold gas, electronics, toys, hardware, sporting goods and they even filled prescriptions. While my aunt was doing her weekly shopping, my cousin and I were permitted to go off on our own and explore. Our favorite thing to do was to hide out underneath the large, round racks of clothes. No one ever knew we were there…it was kinda like a couch fort, but instead of couch cushions there were rows of peasant blouses and flared jeans.

Gemco

Gemco

Having free reign in Gemco led to a life-long fantasy of “accidentally” being locked in the store overnight. Thankfully, I was fortunate enough to live the dream vicariously through the film Career Opportunities, a badly marketed and poorly titled John Hughes film starring a young Jennifer Connelly back when she had huge knockers and eyebrows like Leonid Brezhnev. I fondly refer to those early years as the “Labyrinth Age.” For those of you who share my dream of spending the night in a department store, I’ve included my favorite scene (ROLLER SKATING!) for your viewing pleasure. Click HERE.

Once Mandy and I had explored every nook and cranny of Gemco, and my aunt was finished with her shopping, we were usually rewarded with a trip to Ferrell’s for ice cream sundaes (Tin Roof, no whipped cream, my usual). Of course on the way over to Ferrell’s we continued to listen to Barry belt out the classics: “New York City Rhythm,” “Jump Shout Boogie,” a rare medley of “Could It Be Magic” and “Mandy,” “Daybreak,” and, of course, “I Write the Songs.” But the absolute most excellent song on the entire album has to be “A Very Strange Melody,” and I bet you’ve never even heard of it. You see, before Barry was a big star, he wrote advertising jingles to pay the bills, and some rather well-known ones at that.

Barry Manilow got mad skillz. During the medley, he sings about five or six jingles including ones for Dr. Pepper (“the most original soft drink ever in the whole wide world”), State Farm (“like a good neighbor, State Farm is there”), Stridex (“give your face something to smile about”), Band-Aid (“I am stuck on Band-Aid, ‘cause Band-Aid’s stuck on me”), Pepsi (“all across the nation, it’s a Pepsi generation”), and McDonald’s (“you deserve a break today”). However, regardless of how famous his other jingles were, the one that makes them all pale in comparison, my personal favorite, and truly a work of art, is this little ditty*:

There’s barkin’ in the the kitchen
Yellin’ in the hall
Ringin’ at the door bell
Poundin’ on the wall
Kids out of sight
And kids in the wa-ay-ay
No time to cook on this hectic day
Come on, come on, come on
Get a bucket of chicken
Finger lickin’ good
Have a barrel of fun
Goodbye ho-hum
Say hello to your family
Come on everyone
To Kentucky Fried Chicken
Have a barrel of fu-uh-uh-un!

I told you he’s a GENIUS. And no matter how sophisticated, or pretentious, my musical tastes may become, I will always love Barry Manilow.

*To sing along, click HERE.

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A Second Open Letter to Joaquin Phoenix

Posted by kimlno on December 31, 2008

joaquinishideous23Dude, perhaps the tone of my first letter was too jovial, too light-hearted. Maybe you thought I was just kidding around with you when I BEGGED you not to quit acting to pursue a career in music, specifically Rap. I’m going to try a different approach, because this time, I am seriously worried about your mental and physical health.

WHAT IN ALL THAT IS HOLY HAVE YOU DONE TO YOURSELF?!? When I came across this picture of you in the news today, I literally gasped out loud. Do you know the last time that happened? When I read the headline that Heath Ledger had passed away. Sadly, I fear that you might be following closely in his footsteps.

joaquinishideous32In an attempt to keep this short, because I have a feeling that your attention span may have been negatively affected as well, you need to stop whatever drugs you are doing and get some help. Take that ridiculous sparkly hairclip out of your rat’s nest of a hair-don’t that makes Amy Winehouse’s crack-hive look like a sleek styling from Vidal Sassoon, and BATHE. Get a haircut. Stop smoking those cigarettes like they are going out of style. Put down the bong or pipe or needle and try to sober up, because you are about a jar full of toenail clippings away from turning into Howard Hughes.

Have a SAFE and Happy New Year, man. Peace out.

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The List of Me

Posted by kimlno on December 29, 2008

  • I can raise one eyebrow, just like an evil genius.
  • Given the proper tools and time, I can solve any problem or answer any question.
  • I am a third generation Angelino. I was born in Los Angeles, both my mom and my dad were born in Los Angeles, and both my mother’s father and my father’s father were born in Los Angeles.
  • I have never had a cavity.
  • I have a cadaver bone in my neck (plus 4 titanium screws and 2 titanium plates, which kinda makes me feel like Jamie Sommers, the Bionic Woman).
  • I have the uncanny ability to predict the future about completely random (and usually useless) events.  But, just like a good Greek tragedy, I have ridiculously bad luck especially if I attempt to use this ability for personal gain.
  • I love my family, but I love that we can all hang out together and have fun even more.
  • I have sung live on stage in front of hundreds of people at the House of Blues in Hollywood.
  • I don’t like lettuce or tomato on my sandwiches, yet I love salad. Go figure.
  • I don’t like milk on my cereal. Instead, I have a glass of milk and a bowl of plain cereal.
  • I have laughed so hard that I peed in my pants, and I think that’s awesome.
  • I love games, but I don’t particularly care for sports. The only sports I would even consider participating in or watching are: Figure Skating (except for Ice Dancing), Synchronized Swimming, Gymnastics, and Cheerdancing.
  • I love music so much, that I don’t think I could live without it.
  • I have a dark side, but a sunny disposition.
  • My eyes change color depending on what I am wearing.
  • Given that I have at least two pieces of gum in my mouth at the same time, I can blow a double bubble (one bubble inside the other).
  • For ten years, I was a casting director. The three shows I worked on that you’ve probably heard of are “The X-Files,” “Married with Children,” and “Sabrina, the Teenage Witch.” On any given day, the office would be filled with buxom babes, creepy-looking dudes, and teen heartthrobs.
  • Speaking of casting, I have been in attendance for some very unusual auditions. One in particular involved a cooler full of rattlesnakes. The snakes were not defanged, nor had they been milked. In order to keep them from striking, a very fine filament had been threaded through their nostrils and down around their jaw making it difficult, but not impossible, for them to open their mouths. If the reading went well, the actors were asked to repeat the scene while several snakes were placed around their shoulders and feet. When the session was finished, the snake wrangler asked me if I wanted to try it. Of course I said yes, because the “Cool” factor far outweighed the “Fear” factor.
  • The only time I have ever traveled outside of North America is when I went to Paris. For one day.
  • I have an extraordinary sense of direction, and I rarely get lost.
  • Cigarettes make me nauseous; however their undeniable dramatic allure momentarily blinded me. I tried to start smoking in high school, but one U2 concert and two packs of Marlboro Reds later, I quit. I have never smoked another one, nor do I have the urge to. Oddly enough, during my college years, I smoked pot like it was going out of style.
  • My first name (Kimberly), my middle name (Lynn), and my last name (Nordlinger) can be strung together to make one word: kimberlynnordlinger. As my mom was completely stoned on pharmaceutical grade drugs during childbirth, this was simply a coincidence.
  • As long as we are on the subject, I hate my name. It’s WAY too long. No one ever pronounces my last name correctly the first time. As Kimberly was the fifth most popular name the year I was born, I have rarely been the only Kimberly in the group. Plus, I do not look like a Kimberly. Most of the Kimberly’s I know are blonde and bubbly, and drive convertibles. I wear too much black to be a Kimberly.
  • I have awesome handwriting. However, my cursive looks like an arthritic with a severe palsy having a seizure.
  • My best friend in college was a hair stylist, and I was her guinea pig (I was going to say “muse” but then I would be lying). My hair has been red, purple, black, and the one time I tried to go platinum blonde, most of it fell out. That was the one and only time I ever cried about my hair.
  • I have been told I have a good sense of humor, and some people even think I am funny. What they don’t know is, if I didn’t have the ability to make light of even the most horrible of situations, I’d either be insane or dead by now.
  • Currently, I am single, unemployed, and I have no children. Oh, and I live at home with my mom. See what I mean about that sense of humor thing?
  • I like raisins, but I think adding them to any other food is a culinary crime.
  • I have been in four major car accidents, none of which were my fault. Three of them occurred when I wasn’t even moving. I have sworn to stop driving altogether if anyone else hits my car again. The upside is, since my car has spent most of its life in the shop being repaired, my 1999 Honda CRV has less than 55,000 miles on it.
  • I have an opinion on everything, and if you disagree with me, you are obviously wrong.
  • I am an internet junkie, a reality television whore, and I will watch any movie that stars Keanu Reeves.
  • I believe marijuana should be legalized, and guns should be outlawed.
  • Every Fourth of July I listen to Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture as loud as my speakers will allow while watching the fireworks. It is one of my absolute favorite pieces of music, and I usually pretend to conduct the orchestra for the entire 15 ½ minutes.
  • As a child, I never had a favorite stuffed animal or a blankie I was particularly attached to. However, I did suck my thumb until 5th grade (not during school or out in public, just on the sly when I was sure no one else was around). Fearing my thumb sucking would eventually equal very expensive orthodontia, Dr. DaVirro put an appliance in my mouth called a crib. I called it “The Claw,” because that’s what it looked like. It worked, though, and I haven’t sucked my thumb since.
  • I had the privilege to work with Cary Elwes (“Westley” from The Princess Bride).  Unexpectedly, after many casting sessions together, he kissed my hand and said, “As you wish.” I almost died.
  • I was a very gullible child. Once, after a particularly large purchase at the supermarket, my mom had filled her little Datsun Z to the brim with grocery bags. Then, she looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, honey, there’s no room for you. You are just going to have to walk home.” At which point I replied, “All the way?!?”
  • Regardless of the weather, I sleep with the window open.
  • I refuse to be friends with anyone who constantly complains, but never wants a solution to their problem. I call these people “Emotional Vampires.”
  • I have never lived anywhere that wasn’t within walking distance of the beach, and I never will.
  • When I was about 4 or 5, I was playing a game of hide-and-seek with my mom. After I finished counting to ten, but before I could finish telling her that she’d better not jump out and scare me, she did just that and said, “BOO!” I passed out cold. To this day, I do not like loud sudden noises, and I am the worst person to watch a scary movie with because if I anticipate that something scary is going to happen, I have to cover my ears. And even then, I still usually jump out of my seat.
  • I am far more comfortable in the water than I am on land, and if I didn’t need to breathe, I would live under the sea like the Little Mermaid or SpongeBob SquarePants.

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