Tag: New Wave

SubscribeStar Saturday: Analyzing Band Aid’s “Do They Know It’s Christmas?”

The Portly Politico8 Comments

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One of my shameful holiday pleasures is the cloying, condescending, tone-deaf “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” by British New Wave super group Band Aid.  At least, that’s how the tune would be described if it were written today.

At the time, it was a progressive project:  the Ethiopian Civil War and related famine inspired the songwriters, Bob Geldof and Midge Ure, to write a song to raise funds for the people there.  That’s actually quite noble, and it’s an enjoyable and fun song.

It also spawned millions of pounds in sells and royalties to help Africans, and sparked the United States to respond with “We Are the World” in 1985 (and, later, a heavy metal variant).

I’m not sure how it was received upon its release in 1984, but many of the lyrics are unintentionally hilarious.  Today the very same progressives who can’t wait to sign on to the latest cringe, woke charity project would call these lyrics Eurocentric or anti-African

My favorite line is “And there won’t be snow in Africa this Christmastime.”  Never mind Mount Kilimanjaro, which stays capped in snow year-round.

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Open Mic Adventures I: Oingo Boingo’s “Just Another Day”

The Portly Politico6 Comments

Now that summertime is here—its fleeting glory passing quickly, like the glorious smell of cooking grease after leaving the fast food district—I’ve been able to get back out to some open mic nights.  Most of these events shut down during The Age of The Virus, but a thirst for easy revenue and cheap entertainment has finally seen many venues bring them back.

During the school year I’m typically so slammed with work, lessons, and the desire to see my dog that I tend to miss out on open mic nights, as they’re almost always on weeknights.  By the time I’m done teaching L’il Billy how to play “Polly Wolly Doodle” on his Fender, I’m ready to go home to enjoy a night of reheated spaghetti and cheap horror flicks.

But with the hot summer nights I arise from my ashes like the Phoenix of Arizona, uttering my wild, bestial cry into the sticky night.

Two songs.  Eighty-eight keys.  Half a chance.

This is Open Mic Adventures.

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