Thursday, March 02, 2006
My '80s: Hunters & Collectors
"Betty's Worry or the Slab" (1982, from the album The Jaws of Life)
"Throw Your Arms Around Me" (1986, from the album Human Frailty)
(Special bonus links in the Comments section!)
Some of you will remember "Rico" (real name disguised to protect the once-cool, now-lame), who choreographed a frantic air guitar routine to "The Slab" in college, his eyes a-buggin' like Roger Rabbit as he emulated Mark Seymour's growling edge-of-sanity narration, his body flying across the room like it was immune to the negative effects of blunt force trauma, his arms a-flailing in perfect synchrony with that chukka-chukka guitar bit that finishes the tune. It was all college spectacle, and like so many things at that fragile time in our lives, it was something that got better the more booze that was involved.
It was genius, that routine. It was the stuff of legend. It was better even than Tom Cruise's underwear dance in Risky Business (because Hunnas trumps Seger a million times over, and because, hey, it's Tom Cruise we're talking about).
I am sad to report, though, that Rico has since abandoned our beloved (and now, sadly, defunct) Hunters & Collectors for a life in the suburbs, raising hunting dogs and doling out child support payments. I am told he doesn't even remember the words any more, such are the depths of ubiquity to which he has fallen.
So I have done what any real fan of the greatest Australian bar band ever would have done: I stole that routine, I made it mine. I will admit I don't have the knack for pure theatricality Rico had, but my take on the classic has amused (and frightened, for I throw my body around far more carelessly and inelegantly than Rico ever did) dozens of curious bystanders. But only a select few bystanders, I am afraid, for you won't find "The Slab" in any old jukebox in any old bar. And you probably won't find it in anyone's record collection but mine.
You'll probably have to be invited into my home to see it, and I will have to get really drunk (and so, too, will you), and I will have to start playing "Bill-the-DJ" in my slightly irritating but also sort of endearing way: thirty second snippets of every song I select from a towering stack of CDs. And it will have to be no earlier than 1 a.m. when I finally queue up "The Slab." And in all likelihood someone else in the house will have gone to sleep by then, making the pleasure of cranking the volume even more guilty than it otherwise would be.
And you will gasp in astonishment when I climb up onto the nearest unstable piece of furniture, aping the call-and-response: "Hey I know it's true, but I just can't say it!" "Say it! Say it!" Then I will cock my knees and my guitar hand, spit out an angry "HUNH!" and launch myself into the air! If I have timed it right (which has nothing to do with rhythm, or musical ability, but everything to do with the amount of alcohol consumed to that point), the first chukka will begin at the exact time I hit the ground. Then, if I haven't sprained my ankle, I will strut around the room for the next minute or so, strumming my air guitar emphatically as the horn section swells loudly around us.
You will be amazed, I assure you. And you will no doubt at that moment forget Rico ever attempted anything similar.
Rico had another routine, too, one that has been retired except in our memories: he performed "Throw Your Arms Around Me," with his arms outstretched and his head cocked to one side (just like Mark Seymour on the cover of that live album, "The Way To Go Out"). And when Seymour sang "from your head down to your toes," yep, you guessed it, Rico would point to his head and then his toes. And when Seymour sang "I will kiss you in four places," Rico would point to his mouth, his nipples, and his crotch and smile a crooked smile.
It was funny the first couple of times we saw it, but it really didn't have the legs the other routine had. It just wasn't a fitting tribute for the song that finished second only to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" in an infamous (among Hunnas fans, anyway) Australian poll that decided the best rock song of all time.
No, "Throw Your Arms Around Me" is best played in an intimate setting, with candles and wine, as part of a mix CD you assembled explicitly for the purposes of sly seduction. Because, let's face it, is there another song that better expresses the limitless joy of the love you both feel right now, in this room, with these candles and this bottle of wine, than that one?
I doubt it. I seriously doubt it.
"My 80's: Hunters & Collectors" is the first in what I hope to be a series of little posts about the songs from that decade that meant (still mean) the most to me. The song links will remain active for a few weeks, or until I post the next installment -- whichever comes first. Let me know if you like it.
"Throw Your Arms Around Me" (1986, from the album Human Frailty)
(Special bonus links in the Comments section!)
Some of you will remember "Rico" (real name disguised to protect the once-cool, now-lame), who choreographed a frantic air guitar routine to "The Slab" in college, his eyes a-buggin' like Roger Rabbit as he emulated Mark Seymour's growling edge-of-sanity narration, his body flying across the room like it was immune to the negative effects of blunt force trauma, his arms a-flailing in perfect synchrony with that chukka-chukka guitar bit that finishes the tune. It was all college spectacle, and like so many things at that fragile time in our lives, it was something that got better the more booze that was involved.
It was genius, that routine. It was the stuff of legend. It was better even than Tom Cruise's underwear dance in Risky Business (because Hunnas trumps Seger a million times over, and because, hey, it's Tom Cruise we're talking about).
I am sad to report, though, that Rico has since abandoned our beloved (and now, sadly, defunct) Hunters & Collectors for a life in the suburbs, raising hunting dogs and doling out child support payments. I am told he doesn't even remember the words any more, such are the depths of ubiquity to which he has fallen.
So I have done what any real fan of the greatest Australian bar band ever would have done: I stole that routine, I made it mine. I will admit I don't have the knack for pure theatricality Rico had, but my take on the classic has amused (and frightened, for I throw my body around far more carelessly and inelegantly than Rico ever did) dozens of curious bystanders. But only a select few bystanders, I am afraid, for you won't find "The Slab" in any old jukebox in any old bar. And you probably won't find it in anyone's record collection but mine.
You'll probably have to be invited into my home to see it, and I will have to get really drunk (and so, too, will you), and I will have to start playing "Bill-the-DJ" in my slightly irritating but also sort of endearing way: thirty second snippets of every song I select from a towering stack of CDs. And it will have to be no earlier than 1 a.m. when I finally queue up "The Slab." And in all likelihood someone else in the house will have gone to sleep by then, making the pleasure of cranking the volume even more guilty than it otherwise would be.
And you will gasp in astonishment when I climb up onto the nearest unstable piece of furniture, aping the call-and-response: "Hey I know it's true, but I just can't say it!" "Say it! Say it!" Then I will cock my knees and my guitar hand, spit out an angry "HUNH!" and launch myself into the air! If I have timed it right (which has nothing to do with rhythm, or musical ability, but everything to do with the amount of alcohol consumed to that point), the first chukka will begin at the exact time I hit the ground. Then, if I haven't sprained my ankle, I will strut around the room for the next minute or so, strumming my air guitar emphatically as the horn section swells loudly around us.
You will be amazed, I assure you. And you will no doubt at that moment forget Rico ever attempted anything similar.
Rico had another routine, too, one that has been retired except in our memories: he performed "Throw Your Arms Around Me," with his arms outstretched and his head cocked to one side (just like Mark Seymour on the cover of that live album, "The Way To Go Out"). And when Seymour sang "from your head down to your toes," yep, you guessed it, Rico would point to his head and then his toes. And when Seymour sang "I will kiss you in four places," Rico would point to his mouth, his nipples, and his crotch and smile a crooked smile.
It was funny the first couple of times we saw it, but it really didn't have the legs the other routine had. It just wasn't a fitting tribute for the song that finished second only to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" in an infamous (among Hunnas fans, anyway) Australian poll that decided the best rock song of all time.
No, "Throw Your Arms Around Me" is best played in an intimate setting, with candles and wine, as part of a mix CD you assembled explicitly for the purposes of sly seduction. Because, let's face it, is there another song that better expresses the limitless joy of the love you both feel right now, in this room, with these candles and this bottle of wine, than that one?
I doubt it. I seriously doubt it.
"My 80's: Hunters & Collectors" is the first in what I hope to be a series of little posts about the songs from that decade that meant (still mean) the most to me. The song links will remain active for a few weeks, or until I post the next installment -- whichever comes first. Let me know if you like it.
posted by Bill Purdy, 8:44 PM
6 Buffaloes were bitter enough to post comments:
GREAT idea! It's about time you did something like this on your site.
BTW, I have witnessed "The Slab" up close and personal, and let me tell you, it's just as frightening as it sounds. I'm pretty sure I slept with one eye open that night, ya know, just in case I woke up with Purdy hovering over me whispering, "...And everything will be alright."
HUNH!
BTW, I have witnessed "The Slab" up close and personal, and let me tell you, it's just as frightening as it sounds. I'm pretty sure I slept with one eye open that night, ya know, just in case I woke up with Purdy hovering over me whispering, "...And everything will be alright."
HUNH!
The "throng" to which I was referring includes: you, me, JVW (who stops by now and again), and my high school buddy JH (who, you will recall, visited SLU on at least one occasion, and who called me a couple hours ago to remind me that he, too, owned all the H&C CDs). Clearly, the throng can also be described as "nitpicky" when it comes to my blog posts. Sheesh right back atcha.
BTW, I decided to "protect" Rico's identity even though he is unlikely to ever read my blog because Googling "Bill Purdy" gets you here if you are patient enough to scroll down the results page a bit. And some members of the "old throng" (none of whom speak to me anymore, apparently) could be as likely to Google my name as I am to Google theirs (a propensity that could be described based on my own anectdotal experience as "very likely"). I wouldn't want to piss off a guy who owns a lot of guns by printing his name and describing him as "now-lame," after all.
The "Swedish Death/Speed Metal" air guitar was The Refused, "New Noise." Now that they are The (rather dull) International Noise Conspiracy, that routine has been retired. Why in the world we didn't get drunk enough for me to do The Slab Dance is beyond me. I've gotten that drunk with just about everyone else who's come to visit.
Oh... did I really review a Level 42 album for the college newspaper? Did I like it? I don't have any recollection of it whatsoever (big surprise)...
BTW, I decided to "protect" Rico's identity even though he is unlikely to ever read my blog because Googling "Bill Purdy" gets you here if you are patient enough to scroll down the results page a bit. And some members of the "old throng" (none of whom speak to me anymore, apparently) could be as likely to Google my name as I am to Google theirs (a propensity that could be described based on my own anectdotal experience as "very likely"). I wouldn't want to piss off a guy who owns a lot of guns by printing his name and describing him as "now-lame," after all.
The "Swedish Death/Speed Metal" air guitar was The Refused, "New Noise." Now that they are The (rather dull) International Noise Conspiracy, that routine has been retired. Why in the world we didn't get drunk enough for me to do The Slab Dance is beyond me. I've gotten that drunk with just about everyone else who's come to visit.
Oh... did I really review a Level 42 album for the college newspaper? Did I like it? I don't have any recollection of it whatsoever (big surprise)...
I think I need to see the New Noise next time we visit. Seriously!
Those "shaking fists of rage" are insured by Lloyd's of London. Be careful how you mock them!
Signed,
The Shaker of the Fists of Rage
Signed,
The Shaker of the Fists of Rage
I dunno - I just got through the therapy? of Betty.
Gosh, Patrick, Seymour sings better than Dave Mustaine ever did...
The story goes that when "Betty's Worry or The Slab" was included on 1984's The Jaws of Life LP, the band couldn't decide on a name for it. Eventually, though, the band decided to refer to the song as, simply, "The Slab." About the only place it's referred to as "Betty's Worry or The Slab" is on JOL, and since that's the version I ripped and put online for your (enjoyment?), it carries the original title.
I figured you'd (enjoy?) the much more immediately accessible (i.e., suitable for novices) live acoustic version of "The Slab" from the 1995 CD, Living In Large Rooms and Lounges. I think you'll agree, it's the sweetest, most tenderest ode to cunnilingus ever.
And I also tossed up "True Tears of Joy," another live acoustic tune from Living In Large Rooms and Lounges. It's not an '80s tune (it originally appeared on 1993's Australia-only release, Cut), but it's probably my favorite Hunnas tune ever.
Enjoy.
The story goes that when "Betty's Worry or The Slab" was included on 1984's The Jaws of Life LP, the band couldn't decide on a name for it. Eventually, though, the band decided to refer to the song as, simply, "The Slab." About the only place it's referred to as "Betty's Worry or The Slab" is on JOL, and since that's the version I ripped and put online for your (enjoyment?), it carries the original title.
I figured you'd (enjoy?) the much more immediately accessible (i.e., suitable for novices) live acoustic version of "The Slab" from the 1995 CD, Living In Large Rooms and Lounges. I think you'll agree, it's the sweetest, most tenderest ode to cunnilingus ever.
And I also tossed up "True Tears of Joy," another live acoustic tune from Living In Large Rooms and Lounges. It's not an '80s tune (it originally appeared on 1993's Australia-only release, Cut), but it's probably my favorite Hunnas tune ever.
Enjoy.