Remembrance of Things Pastel
Have you ever thought of something fleeting from your childhood, then spent hours trying to track it down? For some ungodly reason, I recalled these cool in-house promos for some theater chain (AMC?) which I remember seeing in the late ’70s/early ’80s. It was animated with these spacey optical effects showing a guy in a movie seat. A re-recorded version of Steely Dan’s “Everyone’s Gone to the Movies” played on the soundtrack (an odd choice considering the lyrics). Alas, I can find nothing on the web about this — not even a peep from a fellow nostalgic weblogger. Anybody else remember this?
That also led me to try and find info on a Saturday Morning TV show I used to watch during the same period — a short-lived live action/animated show with some generic sounding title about people who worked in an animation studio. Probably it was a crappy show, but at the time I loved it because I wanted to be an animator when I grew up and it was cool to see people (even silly, broadly drawn characters) who enjoyed doing that for a living.
Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows
Want something to make you smile? Better catch Blow Up Doll’s upload of “Bubbles” by The Free Design before it goes. For the uninitiated, “Bubbles” is the most brilliant, weirdest, description-defying song ever made. Another recommendation — “Love So Fine” by The Four King Cousins, a sunny bit of 1968 girly pop from (as far as I know) their only LP.
Another corny but cool find on Bedazzled!: Carol Burnett and The Carpenters performing a medley (including one song all too familiar for me) on The Carol Burnett Show circa 1970. Somebody needs to release this stuff on DVD, and soon.
Peter Pan Meets The White Stripes
Queasiness to spare in New York Magazine’s cover story on “Grups”, trendy Manhattanites in their 30s, 40s and 50s who still live like indie hipsters in their 20s. I kind of see a little tiny bit of myself in these folks (pushing 40, underemployed and still lunching on ramen soup), but mostly the article’s anecdotes are of the jaw-dropping variety — spending three figures on delapidated blue jeans, women emulating Mary-Kate and Ashley’s homeless lady-chic look, parents forcing trendoid music and baby concert tees onto their children (cripes, I hate when parents try to mold their kids into “mini me” versions of themselves). Try to avoid the photos of them lined up in grids, looking like clones. Do people really like being walking, talking clichés? It’s depressing.
By the way, today marks the tenth anniversary of the purchase of my baby, the beautiful 1927 brick bungalow we live in. I always think of this event as my own true entry into adulthood. Take that, Grups.
