A few weeks back I was setting up some microphones for one of my Not-So-Pro (TM) recording sessions and thought I’d test out some settings and make sure that the cords and the cables were humming along and making the right connections in the right directions and otherwise gettin’ the electronics all ready and warmed up to jump and jive and hoot and holler before the real musician arrived.
Thought I’d test it by doing a little bit of recording of my own. For old time’s sake it seemed like a good moment to revisit a two-chord creation of Chicago’s one and only Blue Meanies, a second-rate third-wave ska band that still holds a nice little spot in the back side of my heart for playing a part in the old fun times when I used to romp around with Sarah and with Steve and with the suburban punks of dirty downtown Elgin, where the AA meeting hall would play host to dread-headed and tattooed teens who would pogo and skank till the floor boards would creak and crack and the the mic stands would topple and tables would spill the merch on the sweat-wet floor.
And we were there to hear this drummer named Jay, a guy that I used to work with in the summers and who had a place up in St. Charles with his brother. I went over and I dropped him off and there were girls there, lovely girls in the prime of early lithely adultlife with summer-sunned shoulders and confidence and swagger and smoking cigarettes and they were beautiful and there were books being read and sketches being sketched and there was music being played and I said “uh, hi.”
And then I said “bye” and I drove away and that was about the end of that , but then I went up with Sarah and with Steve to see the band and they were opening for the Blue Meanies and the Blue Meanies were doing everything that they could to get that party started, as it were, and we rejoiced.
And they played a song that was not so much ska but a little more funk and they pressed it on pink vinyl and pink vinyl sounded pretty cool for 3 dollars, so I bought it and brought it to College and J (not Jay) put it on the Vortex (the Vortex being a Salvation Army Store-bought turntable taped up with the guarantee “Work Good”.) And he dropped the needle on the record and we worked out the chords and gosh we played that thing a lot at all the college student-union and rec-hall and dorm-basement gigs. Sometimes with flute and sometimes with sax and sometimes with harmonica and sometimes with whoever happened to grab the mic and it’s still stuck in my head all these years later with its vaguely suggestive title which only suggests things to someone who’s like 19 and totally sheltered but really wants to get out because he stood on Jay’s front porch and he saw girls and they were beautiful and he thought “maybe some day.”
Anyway, here’s the song as I recorded it a few weeks back.
