Song #30: As Hot in the Dark (1981)

Just in time for Halloween, here is a song from the dead!*

I am an admitted wimp when it comes to scary movies or haunted houses, but when Damon Leigh brought me lyrics he had created about Peter Sellers speaking from the grave, I was all in.
I love to laugh, and although Damon and I may not share political beliefs, we still share deep appreciation for a good joke, British humor, and the actor/writer/musician Peter Sellers.

Perhaps, if congress would share one amazing laugh, our country could get along better?

Damon is a true wordsmith, and a real poet; the lyrics for this song work even spoken aloud around a campfire on a fall evening. I look forward to someday fulfilling my promise to him to develop the Broadway musical we started years ago.

And if anything, Tenacious D should definitely cover "As Hot in the Dark".

In the meantime, I hear Billy Joel needs a lyricist, so if anyone out there knows Billy, please pass Damon's information on to him.

As Hot in the Dark

I've been dying to meet you

But your lines have been tied

Help me breech this disconnection

From the other side

'Cause I finally made it

Where I grow my own grass

The last scene I played it

Was six handles and brass

No I could not take the monkey

Had to leave it all behind

Where I left the silver legend

Here to flicker on your mind

I'm a rolling Moviola

Lick** the switch and hit the spark

Stop believing that it's over

I'm as hot in the dark

I put on all your faces

And I pulled off my pants

In some celluloid aces

That I laid down to chance

Now I'm digging in the garden

But I had to get back

To tell you if you're wondering

I'm still alright Jack

No I could not take the monkey

Had to leave it all behind

Where I left the silver legend

Here to flicker on your mind

I'm a rolling Moviola

Lick the switch and hit the spark

Stop believing that it's over

I'm as hot in the dark

I was the first or so she said

No not the last in Lolita's bed

I made a stranger love instead

Showing my life I played the game

Knowing the price you can pay for fame

Britt Bacon: piano, electric piano, vocals

Teddy Zambetti: drums, bgs

Alan Morse: guitars, bgs

Scott Monahan: organ, bgs

Dean Groves: bass

Written by Britt Bacon and Damon Leigh
©1981

Source: 22 tracks Ampex audio tape 30 ips +3, baked, transferred (192k), and remixed  (no auto tune).

The most hellish/scariest part is that the mix could still be better...

Happy Halloween!

*As I read the Wikipedia entry for Mr. Sellers, it gives me goosebumps realizing that he was two years younger than I am now when he died. 

** Damon's original lyrics said "click", but for some reason I sang "lick". Chalk it up to my impetuous youth.

Song #29: Make It Good (1983)

Early on, attempting to push popular music boundaries, and always "working without a net", Ira Ingber and I made a strict pact to write NO LOVE SONGS.

This song is the closest we came to violating that pact. Using one of our favorite "Twilight Zone" episodes, "It's a Good Life" as the inspiration, we crafted a "love story" where one partner does whatever it takes to keep the other partner happy.

In 1983, the Linn Drum Machine was a ubiquitous device in most recording studios. It was the first commercially available drum machine to feature well-recorded samples of actual drums. 

It did not show up late or hung-over, and didn't complain when you wanted to try (yet) another take.

The sounds could be altered in pitch, or be altered completely by physically replacing the chips that produced each sound (some Linn's had John Bonham bass and snare drum samples). 

Attempting to give some human feel to this new robot drummer, we altered the drum machine's sound by feeding it into the speakers of the main recording room, and recording the resulting sound.

Make it Good

What's your pleasure

I'm your treasure

Shall we dance in the rain

Change the landscape

Plan our best escape

We'll take the midnight train

You are here this is true

And this is good

We're alive you and I this is real

Now that is good

You can think any single thought

But make it good make it good make it good

We can make love any way you want

But make it good make it very good

I can feel you

As I touch you

Please don't be afraid

Slow my blood flow

Funny how the time goes

In locked embrace

You are here this is true

And this is good

We're alive you and I this is real

Now that is good

You can do anything you want

But make it good make it good make it good

We can make love any way you want

But make it good make it good make it good

We can be anything we're not

But make it good make it very good

We can make love any way we want

But make it good make it very good

Britt Bacon: vocals

Ira Ingber: guitars, bass, drum programming, bgs

Katy Moffatt: bgs

Mark Morgan: keyboard

Written by Britt Bacon and Ira Ingber 

©1983

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips

Song #28: Ode for Ali-Baba (1989)

In 1990, Teddy and I got a band together to take our songs out of the studio, and into the real (live) world. In those days (before the Internet), we (Ted) had to go to a printshop to have flyers printed up announcing an upcoming gig, add addresses and postage to the flyers (Ted), mail the flyers (maybe me?), make a lot of phone calls (definitely Ted), and then hope that somebody would show up (both of us). 

And after all that, the audience was usually comprised of a few club regulars, band member's significant others, and maybe a die-hard friend or two. It was frustrating, but a chance to play our songs (without having to "pay to play"), and the general endorphin rush of live performance outweighed the downsides of gigging in Los Angeles.

When we scored a chance to play at "Molly Malone's" on Fairfax, we were definitely psyched. The club had a reputation for a good sound system, and an appreciative music crowd.

The night before the gig we had an amazing rehearsal; the band was really getting "tight". 

After rehearsal I realized my voice was shot. I could barely speak, but I figured I'd be fine in the morning.

Nope.

I didn't want to cancel at such short notice, as this would jeopardize our standing with the club and could damage the morale of the band, and so, with much personal trepidation and silent prayers, we took the stage when the club's MC announced "Eckey Thump!".

My wife, Sara, had brought our then one-year-old daughter Eleanore to the club that night to watch us perform. Unfortunately, the strict "21 and over only" policy forced Sara to stand just outside the door holding our baby girl.

"The show must go on" is a great motivational phrase, but the reality of being a lead singer with a broken voice was destroying my confidence, and half way through the set I was at the point of walking off the stage.

As we began the ballad "Ode for Ali-Baba", I was thankful that the band's accompaniment was sparse, and I wouldn't have push too hard to be heard. I was still quite miserable as I soldiered on through the song, and was grateful for the chance to rest during the twelve bar instrumental bridge before the last verse and chorus.

And then, in the short dramatic silence before the last verse, I heard a magical word from the back of the room: "Daddy!". Eleanore had taken advantage of the brief quiet to vocalize one of the few words she knew. The crowd laughed, and my tension, and personal torments immediately left the building. Everything was in perspective, and I finished the set feeling a lot better. I apologized to my bandmates and the crowd, thanked the couple of friends who showed up, inhaled a beer, and went home with my young family.

Later on, I remember sitting in the office of a record company executive with Teddy, as she told us how much she loved this song, and how it was a hit, but how she couldn't sign us based on one single.

Much later on (last month), when my now grown-up baby girl asked me when I was planning to post this song to the blog ("because I really like it"), I felt a flush of pride, shrugged noncommittally, and thought "August 15th... on your 25th birthday". 

Happy birthday Eleanore! You are my platinum record.

Ode for Ali-Baba

We danced to Bojangles' song

We danced to it all night long

And when the music was over

I stood all alone in the ballroom withdrawn

Her dress full and flowing fades

As we float across yesterdays

Her eyes brown and glowing

As we stare at the end of a New Orleans parade

The crowd's all around

and they gaze and they sigh

They'll never know it's time

Sing the ode for Ali-Baba has to say goodbye

Had I kept him from cutting in

We'd waltz time and time again

In three-quarter time your step inside mine

How was I so blind

I miss you Ali-Baba so

I miss you deep in my soul

I think of you so true it hurts inside me too

And now we'll never grow old

The crowd's all around

and they gaze and they sigh

They'll never know it's time

Sing the ode for Ali-Baba has to say goodbye

And I can't find the reason why

And it just isn't fair that my

My dance in New York City should end in despair

And such passion should die

Well the songs in my memory

And the ballroom will always be

Like your touch on my shoulder as I lead as I croon

Your life's inside of me

Chad Stuart: arranged and conducted the beautiful string arrangement, and played the piano and electric bass

Britt Bacon: vocals, keyboards

Teddy Zambetti: drums

???: string section

Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti

©1989

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips