PODCAST TIME! Happy Opening Day

Hey Sluggers! This week's Stuck in the '80s podcast celebrates the boys (or, in Robert Redford's case, middle-aged men) of summer, the best baseball movies of that glorious decade. Celebrity sportswriter Tom "the Closer" Jones joins the sausage hang for this episode, choosing Bull Durham as his fave '80s hardball flick. Steve Spears goes with Field of Dreams, 'cause he's a big softie. And me, well, I'm a dreamer, a romantic, an idealist. I believe in happy endings and good trumping evil and women in white standing up when I need 'em most. And someday I'd love a grizzled old editor to stop shaving, look up at me and say, "And you're the best goddamn Funyun eater I ever saw. Suit up." So naturally, I pick The Natural.

Now go celebrate Opening Day of your national pastime by listening to us at work (CLICK HERE) or downloading us on iTunes. Go Rays!

My Daughter, the Floridian

We've been living in FLA for about three years now. It's basically the only place my 4-year-old daughter has ever known; her Maryland birthplace is now but a tidy entry in the Baby Book. As far as Kid Lulu is concerned, she's a Sunshine Stater through and through. And this weekend, she was proud to let the world know.

On Sunday, I took Lu to Gatorland, "the Alligator Capital of the World." (For Pop Lifers, we went with "Guy," whom you might know as a loyal bloggist and friend of Sparky.) It's the quintessential Florida experience: gator feeding (you throw 'em turkey dogs), gator cuddling, gator eating (I ordered the gator nuggets -- delicious with just a hint of guilt), plus crocs, snakes, parrots and a creepy swamp stroll. I highly recommend the experience, however, fair warning: Gatorland goes out of its way to reinforce the redneck stereotype. One show featured wacky inbred cousins trying to feed chickens to ticked off American alligators. I squirmed; Lu cheered.

Anyway, the last show of the day was the Gator Wrestlin' throwdown. It began with a history lesson, as a guy dressed like Indiana Jones' corpulent cousin explained where the term "Florida cracker" comes from (the crack of a cattle-drive whip, he reasoned). He was proud to be a native Floridian, he said. "How many other Florida crackers are here?!" he bellowed. Tourists from England and Australia and Pittsburgh and Virginia kept their arms down, maybe out of shyness, maybe out of unease.

"Where are my Florida CRACKERS at?!" he repeated.

And then, slowly, one little hand lifted into the air. This tiny hand was connected to a tiny arm which was connected to a wee curly-headed blond girl whose mother and father grew up in the Northeast. But this little blond girl has no concept of sledding or lobsters or the Red Sox. Nope, this girl knows Rays and beaches and gators. In fact, two blocks from her house, there's a canal that has gator in it.

Yep, Kid Lulu, her hand high in the air, was proud to be a Florida cracker.

I wasn't sure how to handle this one. If Ice Cube calls me a cracker, it's not a good thing. However, I was touched by Lu's sense of origin. She's from Florida, and she's proud of that. In a way, I'm a little jealous. So here are a few tunes for my oldest daughter, a smart, beautiful, kind young girl giving Florida crackers a good name.

Floridays -- Jimmy Buffett
Down South -- Tom Petty
Swamp -- Talking Heads
Tallahassee Lassie -- Freddie Cannon
St. Pete Blues -- Ray Charles
Sunshine on My Shoulder -- John Denver
Alley-Gator -- ZZ Top
Crocodile Rock -- Elton John

The Most Notorious Country Songs

We're all about country music at the ol' SPT Saloon this weekend.

There's a feature by yours truly: "Southern Comfort: The music industry is sliding. The economy is in the dumps. Sounds like the perfect time for a country song."

There's a killer Country Quiz concocted by none other than that hot urban cowboy Steve Spears (CLICK HERE TO PLAY). Let us know your score. I made a bonehead mistake, but still managed a 13.

There's a great mini-movie of backstage antics with Dierks Bentley and his fans at a recent Tampa show (CLICK HERE TO WATCH THAT).

And to top it all off, here's a playlist of THE MOST NOTORIOUS COUNTRY SONGS. Not just the bawdiest and bad-assiest, but enevelope-pushers and shaggy old faves, too. These songs have kick and swagger to 'em. And the list isn't done, of course. So crack open a tallboy and fire off some of your faves, too.

"Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings"

Counting Crows
Album: Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings (Geffen)
In stores: Now
Why we care: With his punchdrunk poetry and rambling vocal style as self-indulgent as ever, Adam Duritz returns after a six-year layoff. This concept disc is broken down into sin and salvation, and guitarist/secret weapon David Bryson uses the surprisingly garage-rocking first half to showcase vicious riffs.
Why we like it: Duritz, now 43, is a total headcase, but therein lies his undeniable charm. He’s not afraid to let his usual hangups hang out, from the perils of fame to his battles with depression. He’s also a shameless romantic, and when he spills his glorious guts (“I am the king of nothing!”), you can’t help but embrace him. History will remember the Counting Crows very, very well.
Reminds us of: This sucker would sound even better on crackly, late-night vinyl.
Download these: Los Angeles and Cowboys
Grade: B+

Drunk Monkeys

This is the greatest thing you will ever watch.

HELP WANTED: The Baseball Playlist

I've been asked by my editors to concoct a baseball playlist for the April 8 home opener of your Tampa Bay Rays. There aren't a ton of obvious hardball hits: John Fogerty's Centerfield, Don Henley's Boys of Summer and, er, that other one. But that's all part of the fun here at Pop Life. Think outside the playlist, stretch the limits of your mind, nuzzle your bare toes in the Astroturf of imagination...

Ah, yes, that's it, here they come now...

Catch Me Now I'm Falling -- the Kinks
Hit That -- Offspring
Babe -- Styx
Slide It In -- Whitesnake
Willie and the Hand Jive -- Johnny Otis

I'll jukebox 'em up for your listening pleasure when I have the full list. For now, keep the baseball bunch coming, while I make the first beer and hot-dog run. Who wants mustard?

IDOL RECAP: Boxcar Chikezie Hops a Train

Boxcar Chikezie was sent home from American Idol Wednesday. And that's too bad. Next Tuesday is Dolly Parton Night, which, in a strange way, would have been right in Chikezie's wagon-wheelhouse. 'Cause although he bored the masses with Luther Vandross, he delighted them with crazy hootenannies the weeks before.

But hey, it doesn't matter anyway. 'Cause Ramiele Malubay, despite being lousy week after week, is obviously experimenting with demonic forces far too mighty for mere mortals to combat. Despite hacking through Heart's Alone Tuesday, she wasn't even in the Bottom Three. She has obviously collared Beelzebub to do her bidding. So good luck with that, David Archuleta. Satan's gonna eat you up like a smirky lil' bon-bon.

THE BOTTOM THREE: Chikezie, Syesha Mercado, Jason Castro

AND THE 10TH-PLACE FINISHER IS...CHIKEZIE

Now We're Getting Somewhere!

Special shout-out to Pop Life gadfly Brad, who just gifted me with a mammoth mystery box full of --- what is this? what could it be? frageeelay? must be Italian! -- FUNYUNS!!!

After hundreds of false promises to autograph mini-bags of my preferred snack for listeners of our Stuck in the '80s podcast, I can procrastinate no longer. After inhaling deeply from my Sharpie, I will get to scribbling right quick. "Dear Sammy, get well soon..."

12 bags for 12 fans. Well, maybe 11 fans. I'm kinda hungry.

Thanks, Brad. You are reinstated to "hero" status.   

IDOL RECAP: I Woulda Rocked 1970

Herewith, Tuesday's Top 10 American Idolists, performing a song from the year they were born. (If that had been me, I woulda rocked your worlds with Cracklin' Rosie by Mr. Neil Diamond. Can you handle my hot August nights? I don't think so, ladies. I do not think so.)

RAMIELE MALUBAY, 1987, Alone -- So Ramiele used to bite as a kid, huh? I never would have guessed that, 'cause I've only seen her suck. (Oh, c'mon. Let a man warm up, okay?)

JASON CASTRO, 1987, Fragile -- Not even his blinky moonpie face will save him from that whispery mess of Sting. And why does he keep picking songs with foreign words? And why is Paula dressed for a dinner-theater production of Breakfast at Tiffany's?

SYESHA MERCADO, 1987, If I Were Your Woman -- Seriously, the baby cry? That's gotta stop. 'Cause Syesha is hot, and she can sing, and she finally caught hold of her first good performance. But that horrific baby impression is rendering me dead below the waist.

CHIKEZIE, 1985, If Only for One Night -- Boxcar Chikezie bails on the hootenanny and hits us with some Luther. It was sexy, smooth and, most importantly, it didn't include a hillbilly harmonica breakdown. Not bad at all. He should be fine.

BROOKE WHITE, 1983, Every Breath You Take -- Ooh, the false start. Very uncomfortable. Plus she's in freakin' barefeet again, which makes me want to protect my TV with Dr. Scholl's. But here's the thing: She's gonna score with that sucker 'cause it was a decent performance of a monster hit.

MICHAEL JOHNS, 1978, We Will Rock You/We Are the Champions -- I'm really starting to root for this guy, and not because we're twins. He's slightly goofy, a bit of an underdog and he has King Kong's cojones, reaching for Freddie Mercury whenever he can. First Bohemian Rhapsody, now this. Well done, mate. Well done.

CARLY SMITHSON, 1983, Total Eclipse of the Heart -- I believe Carly Smithson. I do. And I think in a goofy, totally earnest way, she connects with what she's singing. Not a splendid performance tonight, but she's the real deal. And no, I am not saying this because her husband terrifies me.

DAVID ARCHULETA, 1990, You're the Voice -- First of all, it's good to see Rosie Perez getting work again, even if it is as David Archuleta's mother. Simon sez: "Theme-park performance." Couldn't snark it better myself. This kid's polish is washing off. Sorry, gang.

KRISTY LEE COOK, 1984, God Bless the U.S.A. -- Wow, that might be the most strategically brilliant move in Idol history!!! Instead of video flames, SHE GOT A VIDEO FLAG!!! That's hilarious. Even the crusty British dude didn't mess with the red, white and blue. Girlfriend is crafffffty.

DAVID COOK, 1982, Billie Jean -- Okay, am I the only one getting tired of him Nickelbacking the classics? First Lionel Richie, then the Beatles, now this. I know a lot of you loved it. And Cook does have extremely large huevos. But it was kinda "Weird Al" Yankovicky for me. "Oooh, look how he's screwing with that part." I couldn't accept it as anything other than performance art.

See you for tomorrow night's shocker! Archuleta gets the boot!   

LIVE IDOL! The Curse of Froggy

Last Wednesday on American Idol, raspy-voiced siren Amanda Overmyer was cruelly dismissed from the singing competition. On Saturday, I celebrated my 38th birthday with the neighborhood dudes/mourned Amanda's vicious fate by doing very bad things for 13 hours. I'm not entirely sure, but I think the ghost of Jessica Tandy tried to seduce me during Hour 12. In all fairness, that might have been a hallucination. I'll get back to you.

Anyway, on Sunday, I woke up without a voice...and with the Forever Fiancee really ticked off. When I tried to speak, I sounded not unlike Froggy, that bespectacled Our Gang rapscallion. I also sounded a little like my girl Overmyer shrieking Back in the USSR. Indeed, a strange convergence of events. My voice is still shot.

Of course, friends and family are rather delighted by my inability to parlez some. For the first time in my life, I'm letting others get a word in. I imagine my voice was ultimately taken from me by a divine power, a Greater Good (perhaps Tandy's ghost or at least Paula Abdul) who didn't want me spending tonight screaming at the TV screen, blaming asexual smirker David Archuleta or barefoot hippie Brooke White for my Overmyer loss.

Idol starts tonight at 8 p.m. The Top 10 contestants will be singing songs from the year they were born, which means 1979 through 1991 (basically the '80s revisited). The Pop Life Idol Chat will be open at 7:45 p.m., although we will be serving coffee and donuts in lieu of the typical open bar. I hope you understand. See you tonight...

NEW MUSIC: Duffy "Mercy"

Rolling Stone is gaga for this new Brit, who bites her influences from the same joint as Wino Winehouse. Still, I kinda like it. Her backing band sounds like an automatonic Booker T & the MGs.

Concert News: Counting Crows, George Michael

As well as getting the new Counting Crows album in the mail this morning (Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings, out tomorrow), I just received word that Adam Duritz and the boys, plus co-headliner Maroon 5, are coming to Tampa's Ford Amphitheatre on October 3. No word yet on ticket info, but I'll keep you posted.

In other news, George Michael, in his first U.S. tour in 17 years, will be playing the St. Pete Times Forum in Tampa on August 2. Here's the scoop on that. I've heard nothing of on-sale dates yet.

And finally, I turned 38 years old Saturday and made 13 hours worth of bad decisions. Hence, my lack of energy/excitement/vocal strength/friends/pity from the Forever Fiancee. I shall return.

The Kills "Cheap and Cheerful"

Please enjoy this video from London-based duo the Kills (often referred to as "Bonnie & Clyde with guitars") until the troops are better rested.

Bashing Lindsay (I'm So Proud)

When I was at that journo conference in S.C. a few weeks ago, I had the chance to judge a criticism contest. The original assignment was to critique my keynote address earlier in the day. But because I'm fragile, I couldn't take the ridicule. So I told the students to tee off on (or praise) any subject they like, and I'd help them through the process. That class was the highlight of my trip.

The following slam is from my buddy Meg, a wise-cracking high-schooler who was having a hard time with a music review. So I told her to scrap that. Who does she despise in pop culture, I asked? Who drives her crazy? Meg cranked out the following in mere minutes...

She's only 21 years old, and already she's been in rehab more times than I can count. Her clothes look like rags, her teeth are the same color as butter, she can’t sing worth shit, and yet the whole world is obsessed with her.

What is wrong with Lindsay Lohan?

What is wrong with society?

Lohan does not even wear underwear for God's sake. Even Paris Hilton bashes Lohan publicly; that’s got to say something, right? I had to laugh when Brandon Davis announced that Lohan was a "firecrotch" to the press while Hilton sat next to him laughing so hard she was crying. Lohan got what she deserved when she went commando and let the world see “Little Lindsay” for themselves.

I don’t understand why young girls find Lohan so entertaining. Is it really trendy to be a slut these days and sleep around every two weeks?

Also, I have never seen one picture of her where she looks halfway decent and healthy. Her hair is not brushed, her makeup is always smudged, she looks high off of something, and most of the time it looks like she’s been homeless for about two months.

After being on probation for DUI and having an alcohol monitor attached to your ankle 24/7, wouldn’t you be smart enough not to go to a club and drink all night? Lohan wasn’t, hence her stay at rehab for probably the fourth time last year.

She’s also supposedly an amazing actress, but out of the six movies that I’ve seen her in, I’ve only liked two. She was a disaster, not to mention annoying, in Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, but I think that’s only because she was basically playing herself in the movie (slutty girl with no work ethic who blames her behavior on her father.)

She uses her father’s scandal as an excuse for her wild behavior, but I think we all know she had it in her as soon as she turned 15. It’s sad to me though, because she was a really cute little girl in The Parent Trap, and now she’s just another anorexic-looking millionaire.

The thing that disappoints me the most is that her sister made a statement to the press saying that she wanted to be exactly like Lindsay when she got older. I don’t think I could handle another one, but maybe Ally Lohan will have enough sense to wear panties when she ventures out in public.

Pearl Jam Coming to Tampa

Pearl Jam just released their summer concert dates for the East Coast, and we're on there: St. Pete Times Forum, June 12.

They'll also play West Palm Beach on June 11.

Public on-sale dates and ticket information have not been released. But I will not rest until I have all the answers, dammit.

As if the spring-summer concert season weren't busy enough (cue shameless plug for an earlier post), now there's this. Save your pennies, boys and girls.

REVIEW: Gnarls Barkley "The Odd Couple"

I posted audio clips of the new Gnarls Barkley a few days ago. (LISTEN). I finally got around to digging in. Love these guys.

Gnarls Barkley, The Odd Couple (Atlantic/WEA) GRADE: B+

Once again, the madness begins with the whirrr of an old movie projector. And just like before, the cinematic lunacy is immediate, ping-ponging sounds of acid-dripped go-go and the moans of Al Green's ghost stretched across a torture rack. Depending on whether you bought into this big batch of bonkers the first time around, you’ll either switch it off or resume the Watusi ’til the rubber-room guys cart you away.

Yep, Gnarls Barkley is back. The duo follows up 2006’s multiplatinum St. Elsewhere (and ubiquitous hit Crazy) with The Odd Couple, 13 tracks that further explore their obsession with the cellophane line between sanity and gone-baby-gone.

Like most of GB’s schtick — which includes dressing up in Star Wars garb for concerts — The Odd Couple is played with a grin and a wink. It’s all sleight of hand with these trip-hopping soul men. For instance, the new album was scheduled for April 8 — but at the last minute, they released it in digital form on March 18. Why? Because that’s what Gnarls Barkley does.

Even the album’s title is a bit of a lark. Unlike Felix and Oscar, these two are actually perfect for each other; they’re just odd compared to the rest of us. Danger Mouse, the quiet, lanky L.A. beatmaker, creates paisley soundscapes for partner Cee-Lo, the chatty, stubby Atlanta soul singer who just might be totally unhinged. Heck, compared to these soulmates, the Carpenters looked mismatched.

Pick Three: Spring Concert Blowout

Here's a smattering of the major spring-summer shows coming to Tampa Bay. It's gonna be a busy summer for me, but how many of these gigs goose your interest? Just for kicks, pick three shows you'd see if your wallet held up. If you wanna go rogue and select something not listed (Steve Miller, Tim McGraw, Santana, Super Secret Best Friends), go right ahead...

APRIL
4/6 Huey Lewis and the News, Derby Lane
4/19 Avril Lavigne, Ford Amphitheatre
4/21 Bruce Springsteen, St. Pete Times Forum
4/27 Bon Jovi, St. Pete Times Forum
4/29 Sheryl Crow, Ruth Eckerd Hall

MAY
5/3 Eric Clapton, Ford Amphitheatre
5/5 Kanye West and Rihanna, Ford Amphitheatre
5/6 Radiohead, Ford Amphitheatre
5/17 WMNF's Tropical Heatwave in Ybor City
5/18 Ace Frehley, Jannus Landing
5/24 Alicia Keys, St. Pete Times Forum

JUNE
6/18 Cyndi Lauper and the B-52's, Ruth Eckerd Hall

JULY
7/9 Gomez and Dave Matthews Band, Ford Amphitheatre
7/11 Vans Warped Tour, Vinoy Park
7/16 Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, St. Pete Times Forum
7/30 Mark Knopfler, Ruth Eckerd Hall

IDOL RECAP: America Is Stupid

My first love
You're every breath that I take
You're every step I make...

So lemme get this straight: Not only was Amanda Overmyer-Daly voted off American Idol Wednesday by a clueless populace. But the Biker Nurse's mind-boggling dismissal means that I'll get the chance to write about both Kristy Lee Cook and Ramiele Malubay when the inevitable AI concert tour comes to Tampa. Wow, that's awesome news. No, really, awesome. Thanks, America. Thanks for everything. Good luck with that Archuleta kid. He's so innocent!

THE BOTTOM THREE: Carly Smithson, Kristy Lee Cook, Amanda Overmyer

THE 11TH PLACE FINISHER IS...AMANDA OVERMYER-DALY

Questions for Clarence Clemons?

The Big Man is calling.

On March 26, I'm scheduled to get a 20-minute phoner with none other than Clarence Clemons, unsinkable saxman of the E Street Band. This will be part of a preview piece for the Boss's April 21 show at the St. Pete Times Forum.

So let's go...WHO HAS QUESTIONS FOR THE BIG MAN?

IDOL RECAP: Great Frampton's Ghost!

Without further ado, here's your Top 11 American Idolists from Tuesday tackling (but mostly fumbling) the Beatles songbook...

AMANDA OVERMYER, Back in the USSR -- That chick looks like fun, indeed! Finally, the Biker Nurse is starting to listen to me. Screw Simon. Perfect song choice. Even if those strobe lights made me swallow my tongue. A small price to pay for skanky Southern fun.

KRISTY LEE COOK, You've Got to Hide Your Love Away -- Who arranges this girl's songs? John Tesh? Oof, she's a nightmare. Couldn't find the hook if the ghost of Lennon was guiding her. In equally disturbing news, she looks older and older each week, as if her Faustian bargain for fame is about to expire. Tick...tick...tick...

DAVID ARCHULETA, The Long and Winding Road -- Ever see Meet the Fockers? Archuleta looks like Ben Stiller's love child, Jorge. Anyway...I really wanted to see the kid stumble, screw up the words, maybe sing The Long and Winding Cul-de-Sac. But he didn't. Jorge nailed it.

MICHAEL JOHNS, A Day in the Life -- I hate to work blue, but this Aussie dude has balls the size of church bells. First Bohemian Rhapsody, now this. He still bounces too much, and he's not as good as he thinks. But I wouldn't challenge him to a knife fight.

BROOKE WHITE, Here Comes the Sun -- I'm a reasonable man. I am. But I swear I wanted to pull an Elvis and shoot the damn TV during that tripe. My lord, her hippie BS makes me want to vote Republican. Why did she say "Wooo"? Did the song really kick into "Wooo" territory? No, it didn't. I hate her. Or maybe I'm secretly in love with her....No, no, I hate her.

DAVID COOK, Day Tripper -- Whoa, first Skullet admits to liking Whitesnake. Which is kinda badass in a surburban dirtball way. Then he busts out the vocoder! Shoot, I really wanted to hate this guy, too. But that was freaking cool. He's skeezy, but I'm starting to dig him.

CARLY SMITHSON, Blackbird -- First of all, the roses around her neck made her look like a Kentucky Derby winner. Plus that performance was the disappointment of the night. She coulda crushed it. But the piano was wrong, and the Celine Dion finish was a wreck. Listen to the Sarah McLachlan version.

JASON CASTRO, Michelle -- His dreadlocks are starting to look like tarantula legs. But that might be the Crown Royal talking. The Bonfire Bandit will be fine. But if you're busting Overmyer for doing the same ol' schtick, Castro's Kmart Jack Johnson routine is getting even weezier.

SYESHA MERCADO, Yesterday -- A big voice covering a quiet song. It was okay, not awful, not exciting. However, if she's going to wear more dresses like that, I say let the woman stick around.

CHIKEZIE, I've Just Seen a Face -- I would have been less startled if a hobo had burst through my front door and started playing harmonica on my kitchen table. Boxcar Chikezie needs to get his act together.

RAMIELE MALUBAY, I Should Have Known Better -- A curious choice to close out the show. Especially since watching her was akin to having your gums scraped. Oof, it's hard to believe that either Ramiele or Kristy Lee is going to make the Top 10 -- and thus will get to tour with the American Idol arena show. Which I will have to review. With tears in my eyes. And a flask. Definitely a flask.

LIVE IDOL! Archuleta, Daly Both in Trouble

As soon as I woke up this morning, I told the Forever Fiancee how beautiful she is. Then I volunteered to give the kids baths when I get home from work. Then I gave the FF a hot smooch and offered to call out for Chinese tonight.

Why was I so amorous, so dreamy, so husbandly perfecto?

'Cause it's Idol Night, my friends. And my family hates Idol Night. Despises it. Can't stand a second. Idol Night means Daddy spends two hours telling everyone to shoosh so he can hear the tender nuance in Amanda Overmyer's caterwauling. It means Daddy will be sitting at the computer writing dumb jokes about male strippers while Mommy puts both crying kids to bed. The things I do to entertain you people.

Yes, Idol is a whopping two hours tonight, starting at 8 p.m. The Final 11 will be covering more Beatles songs. Which means Carly Smithson just might wail Oh! Darling after all -- and wee David Archuleta just might soil his Underoos at the thought of butchering more Lennon-McCartney. America gave the show favorite a pass last week when he blanked on We Can Work It Out. But if he screws up again this week, you'll see the Chosen One lose serious votes. Let chaos reign! I love it.

As always, we'll have the Pop Life Idol Chat raging right here. Last week we tallied 244 deliciously snarky comments during the show, an outpouring of madcappery that lit up cyberspace with joy. So come on back tonight and bring a friend! See you at 8!

Gnarls Barkley Pulls iTunes Surprise

And here I thought I was so cool...

Last night I was sent a sneak preview of the new Gnarls Barkley album, The Odd Couple, which wasn't supposed to hit stores until April 8. I didn't get a chance to hear much, but what I did catch was sublime: Danger Mouse was definitely working that acid go-go vibe, and Cee-Lo sounded reliably like Al Green on a torture rack.

Guess what I just found on iTunes? Yep, the entire album for immediate download. No word if the hard copy of the disc is still scheduled to come out in April. With these guys, you never know.

PODCAST TIME! Angering Australia

On this week's incendiary Stuck in the '80s podcast, co-host Steve Spears dubs Down Under band Midnight Oil a "one-hit wonder." Then, with a maniacal chuckle, he says that the group's lead singer, the bald menacing Peter Garrett, looks like bald menacing Batman villain Egghead. And then, as if that weren't enough, Spears finishes by raising his fist and hollering, "I refuse to recognize Australia as a continent!"

Me? I love Midnight Oil. Much as I love Bobby McFerrin, Climie Fisher, Johnny Hates Jazz and all the other one-hit wonders from 1988, who just happen to be the topic of this week's unbelievably awesome show.

For the record, I also love Australia and Egghead.

You can listen to Stuck in the '80s by clicking HERE or downloading us on iTunes. Sit back, relax and let Steve Spears' narrow worldview delight and entertain!

Kid Lulu's Comedy Hour

Not only is my four-year-old daughter a world-class comic, but she's now deftly weaving the Absurdist philosophical movement into her act. As a result, Kid Lulu has been slaying 'em at school with her hot new batch of surreal knock-knock jokes. My friend Stephanie Hayes swears Lu's gags have restorative powers, so I thought I'd share a couple.

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Tree!
Tree who?
A lightbulb that poops.

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Magazine!
Magazine who?
A lamp with pants on.

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Poop!
Poop who?
Woof! Woof!

If you'd like to share your own knock-knock jokes with Kid Lulu, she'd love to hear them...

PLAYLIST REVISITED: The Crying Playlist

Last month I ran a highly controversial playlist about crying. To recap: At any given time, at least two people in my four-strong household, which now includes a beautiful, bouncy six-week-old daughter, can be heard sobbing. (You can read that HERE.) Although certain folks did not "get" this playlist at all, high-falutin' IMEEM technology has allowed me to take that item and soup it up as a cool jukebox. So now everyone will like it! Okay, maybe not. Nevertheless, I'm gonna revisit playlists from the past and juke 'em up. I'll also tweak the original lists to accomodate reader suggestions. Enjoy!

   

In Sean's Mailbox: It's Not EZ Being Snoop

Despite the fact that Snoop spends most of his time wandering beaches, in search of beautiful women wearing stylish black censor bars, the D-O-DOUBLE-G is actually a very conflicted dude. He wants to be the player, the pimp, the smoker's smoker; he also wants to be a peewee football dad and a good husband. Maybe it's all BS. Maybe Snoop is just a jerk, plain and simple. But I don't think so. Or at least I don't want to think so. Now that Calvin Broadus is 36 years old, it's far more interesting to think of him as the troublemaker who's not so sure of himself anymore, the Doggfather in turmoil.

Anyway, that's the head-snapping gist of SD's new album, one of several CDs that magically appeared in my mailbox this morning...

Snoop Dogg -- Ego Trippin'
Norah Jones -- My Blueberry Nights Soundtrack
Melody Gardot -- Worrisome Heart (LISTEN)
Black Tide -- Light From Above
Be Your Own Pet! -- Get Awkward
Josh Gracin -- We Weren't Crazy
Five Times August -- Brighter Side
Lemonheads -- It's a Shame About Ray: Collector's Edition (WATCH)

The Leprechaun List

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!

The Pop Life Playlist has finally entered the 21st century, as the good folks at IMEEM.com have allowed me to post fancy jukeboxes right here on the blog. (I'm telling you, this Internet thingie just might catch on.) Just click on the track, crack open a cold green one on this March 17 and start jigging like Darby O'Gill.

Special thanks to the Pop Life loyalists, whose keen ear for Irish ditties and thirsty palate for suds of all colors helped create today's list. By all means, keep suggesting songs...and keep reaching for that pot o' gold.

"Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution"

Here's your weekend kickoff song, the Black Crowes' "Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution," from their new album "Warpaint." This cut was obviously birthed from the sweet-sour blood of the Stones' "Sticky Fingers." Crank it up at 5:01 today. Or, you know, 4:20.

BABY UPDATE: Sweet, Squishy...Stay Puft!

A few of you have inquired about my youngest lass, the Bonus Daly -- or Kid TwoTwo, as one of you so brilliantly dubbed her. I'm happy to report that she's doing great. She's now, somehow, six-weeks-old (...Old Man Daly typed as Father Time continued to kick his butt). She's a mellow tot, much calmer than her sis, Kid Lulu, who was no doubt scarred by her first-child-spazzy parents. ("Omigod! Omigod! She's crying! For the love of God, call 911!")

What does Kid TwoTwo look like? Well, with all humor and love intended, the Forever Fiancee and I have taken to a little naming game. Each morning, I'll see a new resemblance in the baby, and the FF (who looks fantastic, by the way -- hot, very hot) will see another. This morning, when the baby got surly for her Similac, she looked exactly like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Seriously, she even made those angry pterodactylian Mr. Stay Puft roars. Her mom, however, said she looked more like Peter Boyle, grouchy, with a ring of hair around her bald dome.

Yesterday, when the babe was in her prison-issue jumper, I thought she looked like Dr. Evil. The FF thought she looked stuffy and proper, like Winston Churchill.

The twist, of course, is that there is one person she resembles more than any other. And that person is me. So yes, she's BEAUTIFUL.

Congratulations, Lil' Bastard

I don't care about the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. But I care a great deal about John Mellencamp, who was (finally) inducted into said HOF this week. Validation from peers means a lot to Mellencamp, who's always been mentioned after Woody, Bruce and Bob on the list of great chroniclers of the American condition. But growing up, especially as a child of the MTV generation, Mellencamp was my guy, especially his Scarecrow album, one of the great rock statements of all time. (Special shout-out to drummer Kenny Aronoff.)

As I've mentioned far too many times, I spent some one-on-one time with the native Hoosier a few years ago. The Washington Post sent me to Bloomington, Ind., after the "Vote for Change" concerts were ineffective in dislodging George W. from office. Mellencamp and his family (wife Elaine Irwin, sons Hud and Speck) were nice enough to have me in their gorgeous house (and their bathroom) on the shores of Lake Monroe. The interview was mind-blowingly good, but in classic Lil' Bastard style, he picked apart Scarecrow when I suggested it for canonization. "Too many cartoon songs," he grunted in between drags on an American Spirit. I called him crazy, a highlight of my life.

Anyway, in celebration of his induction, here are SD's 10 Favorite John Mellencamp Songs:

10. Minutes to Memories
9. Check It Out
8. Justice and Independence '85
7. My Aeroplane
6. Get a Leg Up
5. What If I Came Knocking
4. Hurts So Good
3. Lonely Ol' Night
2. Jack & Diane (WATCH)
1. The Authority Song

The Raging Rays Playlist

In the end, it was the crack of a bone, not the crack of a bat, that changed misfortune to fortune for the woeful Tampa Bay Rays. In the blink of an eye — or however long it takes one dude to demolish another — our bad-news basebull bunch took its first cleated step on the road to redemption.

And they did it with violence.

I think I’m in love.

As you might have heard, there was a bit of a dustup at ol’ Legends Field last Saturday, when the mighty New York Yankees played spring training host to our pushovers of summer. In a late-inning brouhaha at the plate, Rays second baseman Elliot Johnson (who?) plowed into catcher Francisco Cervelli (huh?), fracturing the NY backstop’s right wrist.

Yanks skipper Joe Girardi, a former catcher himself, took issue with the “uncalled for” play, saying spring training is no place for harmful acts: “I don’t understand it. I’ve always known that you don’t do it.”

Rays manager Joe Maddon defended that collision (and a previous one earlier in the week) with a refreshing blast of Eastwoodian grit. “If we have a chance, and we have to hit a catcher, we should. And if they have a chance to take out one of our catchers, they should. That’s the way the game’s played."

Some people say spring training games are meaningless. Not this one, folks.

When the teams played again on Wednesday, not much happened . . . except for a hit batter (Rays prospect Evan Longoria), five ejections and a benches-clearing standoff! (The above photo, from the Times' James Borchuck, is from yesterday's scuffle.)

NY and TB players, coaches and fans are going after one another with unprecedented vitriol. People are totally losing their cool. They are whiners; we are losers. They’re prima donnas; we’re thugs. They buy championships; we have a fish tank in centerfield.

Heck, now I want to buy season tickets and brass knuckles.

If you’re a Rays fan, you gotta love this. Rivalries are one thing, but blood feuds are when thing’s really get interesting. Maddon’s club doesn’t need better players; it needs a tougher aura. If we have to be thugs before we’re winners, fine; at least we’re not straight-up tomato cans anymore.

Someone’s threatened by us? Excellent.

In fact, if I’m Joe Maddon, one of these days I might have loose-cannon Jonny Gomes march over to third and smash a pie in Alex Rodriguez’s face. Yeah, a real gooey pie. During the national anthem.

Now some of you parents might think this is a horrible lesson for your children. But let me ask you this: When you go to Tropicana Field, and there are more fans for the enemy than the Rays, and hometown pride is stuck in the sour pit of your stomach, what does that teach the boys and girls of the Tampa Bay area? That we’re all chumps? Exactly. So go on, Jonny Gomes. Make it a cherry pie. And here’s a musical playlist to crank when the next brouhaha busts out:

IDOL RECAP: Hernandez Stripped of Glory

Despite my snotty, snippy snark, I thoroughly enjoyed American Idol's salute to the Fab Four on Tuesday. And that's a good thing, 'cause on Wednesday's boot-off show, Seacresty announced they're doing ANOTHER Lennon-McCartney tribute next week. Awesome! I can't wait to see Brooke White sing "Love Me Do" in just a dandelion crown and unwashed paisley tunic. Ugh, I can't stand barefoot hippie girl.

But apparently America disagrees with me. 'Cause she wasn't one of the Bottom Three last night. I predicted Polynesian Pixie Ramiele Malubay would get the boot. But she wasn't one of the Biggest Losers either. I obviously suck at predictions. Seriously, at this point I couldn't guess my own weight. ("Um, 150 pounds?")

Instead, here were THE BOTTOM THREE: Syesha Mercado, Kristy Lee Cook, David Hernandez

And who was DOINKING #12? DAVID HERNANDEZ

I think Paula summed it up perfectly when she said, "I've never seen a more stronger final three." Yep, "more stronger." Well said, Paula, well said. As for Hernandez, the former male stripper had a brave exit line as well, confidently saying, "You'll see me at the top." Sure, sure...unless you pay him "extra" to see the bottom. Good night, ladies and gentleman!

PODCAST TIME! Good Songs, Bad Movies

Wanna hear some fun music?

Wanna relive some lousy movies?

Wanna witness the gruesome effects Funyuns have on a healthy, vibrant young woman?

Then I strongly suggest you download the latest episode of Stuck in the '80s, a rollicking dissertation on cheesetastic songs (including Best Man in the World, Meet Me Half Way, Twist of Fate, Love Somebody) and the craptastic movies from which they came (The Golden Child, Over the Top, Two of a Kind, Hard to Hold).

Preview audiences have proclaimed this particular show to be "nonstop hilarity," with an intro that will forever change the way you think about podcasting.

And as for that Funyun ugliness, well, you'll just have to listen to the show by CLICKING HERE or downloading us on iTunes. Bon appetit!

QUICKIE IDOL RECAP: Help!

"Ladies and gentleman...the Beatles!" (Ahem, as performed by the Top 12 contestants on American Idol Tuesday night.)

SYESHA MERCADO, "Got to Get You Into My Life" -- Earth, Wind & Fire, baby! Excellent version. She was nervous, but not too shabby. I grew up with that song. Of course, I also grew up with Helen Reddy. Things are starting to make sense about me, aren't they?

CHIKEZIE, "She's a Woman" -- "I'm putting my own funk on it," Chikezie says. Funk? FUNK?? Am I in a parallel universe? I was waiting for Jon Voight to drill the banjo picker with an arrow to the chest. (Kids, go rent "Deliverance.")

RAMIELE MALUBAY, "In My Life" -- Who else spit out their ice cream when they saw the crowd doing the "swaying arms" bit? Hi-larious. In related news: Unless you starred in "Gone With the Wind," it's tough to look cool walking down a staircase. She's finished.

JASON CASTRO, "If I Fell" -- Dude, you have bugs buzzing around your crappy-ass dreadlocks. You also make dumb faces. HOWEVER, there isn't another Idolist with better self-awareness than you, Kmart Jack Johnson. You're gonna do just fine.

CARLY SMITHSON, "Come Together" -- Did her voice sound different? And did her voice sound better? I'd still like to see Carly bite the head off a bat, or something edgy, but she's getting a LOT better.

DAVID COOK, "Eleanor Rigby" -- There's a good-bad scenario going on here. First of all, Skeezy Guy's Nickelback-does-"Eleanor Rigby" schtick gave me the creeps. Sorry, but it's true. However, I hear he can get you really good Cheap Trick tickets, if you'll just follow him down that dark alley over there...

BROOKE WHITE, "Let It Be" -- Bare feet! Bare feet! I predicted that!!! Not you, me. I totally have this sister-mary-margaret hippie chick pegged. [Big breath] I dunno. I guess it was fine. But let's be honest: Steve Spears could squat behind a Steinway and grunt out a good rendition of "Let It Be." It's foolproof.

DAVID HERNANDEZ, "I Saw Her Standing There" -- Wow, that really sucked. It's weird how he didn't sound convincing singing about a hot chick. Really, um, weird.

AMANDA OVERMYER, "You Can't Do That" -- Screw Simon. That was her best performance yet. And I should know. 'Cause I'm, like, a music critic with credentials and, uh, stuff.

MICHAEL JOHNS, "Across the Universe" -- One of my favorite Beatles songs. Not a bad take, but he should have gone smaller, not bigger. Because it's a quiet, contemplative tune. (See? I can be serious sometimes, baby. I can be sincere. Of course this isn't a one-night stand.)

KRISTY LEE COOK, "Eight Days a Week" -- Turning it into a country song wasn't a terrible idea. However, why did she make it so fast, like wacky hillbilly chase music? Jeez, I hope the Clampetts get away okay. If there was a bright spot for Ramiele Malubay tonight, it's that Kristy and Hernandez were even worse.

DAVID ARCHULETA, "We Can Work It Out" -- Whoa, the Chosen One forgot the lyrics! That's a death sentence! Ha! Let's see 'em sell that on iTunes! I love it. I love this show. And I love you, ladies and gentlemen. See you tomorrow night!

LIVE IDOL! Butchering the Beatles

You say you want a Revolution? What if it's performed by a skeezy dude on American Idol? After securing rights to perform classics from the Lennon-McCartney songbook, our national televised obsession will have its top 12 singers honor the Beatles tonight.

Kristy Lee Cook covering Sir Paul? Sounds like a long and winding nightmare. However, because we all care far too much about Idol, I've decided to offer a few Fab suggestions to help the final 12 choose the right Beatles song (feel free to play along):

Back in the U.S.S.R., Amanda Overmyer (You don't know how lucky you are, girl. Rock it hard.)

Across the Universe, David Archuleta (If Bambi sings this, Paula will be a puddle.)

With a Little Help From My Friends, Kristy Lee Cook (And a lot of help from her bra.)

Got to Get You Into My Life, Chikezie (The Earth, Wind & Fire version!)

Help!, David Cook (Plug in the axe and blues it up, dirtball.)

And I Love Her, Jason Castro (As if Joe Clambake hasn't seduced enough coeds.)

Mother Nature's Son, Brooke White ('Cause hippie-dippie is just dying to perform barefoot.)

I'm Looking Through You, Michael Johns (Unleash the fury, pretty boy. "You're not the same!")

Get Back, Ramiele Malubay (The singing lawn gnome needs to get back her passion.)

Oh! Darling, Carly Smithson (If she nails this pop plea, she'll go from safe to sensational.)

Drive My Car, Syesha Mercado (The more "beep beeps" the better.)

Come Together, David Hernandez (Make it grindy enough, and even Simon will throw singles.)

We'll be chatting it up here starting at 8 p.m. So bring a six-pack of snark and something to snack on!

The Kids Love Me!

Here's my review of Saturday's Jonas Brothers concert, which includes my highly controversial statement that it will be Joe, and not Nick, who will have solo fame. That's right. I so went there. 

(After years of trying and failing to write for people my own age, I'm now focusing exclusively on high-school and junior-high readers. Next week I'm totally running for class president.)

Have Yourself a Vampire Weekend

I'm a little slow catching on to the Vampire Weekend buzz, but hey, better late than never. If the rich kids in a John Hughes movie had formed a band instead of harassing Molly Ringwald, they might have sounded like this...

SONG OF THE WEEK
Artist: Vampire Weekend
Song: Oxford Comma (LISTEN)
Album: Vampire Weekend (XL)
In stores: Now
Why we care: Are you ready for the next great musical movement: grammar-pop! Okay, maybe not. But this NY-NY indie quartet is made up of Columbia U. button-downs who rock about prestige, Cape Cod and, on this song, the serial comma. They aren't afraid to mix Afropop into their preppy schtick, either. Sound sexy? Then read on!
Why we like it: Oxford Comma has a cool, profane strut to it (like Elvis Costello futzing around with a toy piano) as an Ivy League fop tries to take down a snobby counterpart with the wisdom of Lil’ Jon.
Reminds us of: Ain’t no party like a Strunk & White party! Hey, don’t bogart the thesaurus!
Song grade: B

From Me to You, XOXO, Sean

The Stuck in the '80s crew taped a high-concept show yesterday about good songs from dreadful movies. In an entirely predictable chain of events, the podcast also turned into an Olivia Newton-John drool-a-thon. The show will be shipped to iTunes sometime next week. (It has the best intro ever!) In the meantime, enjoy this delightful journey to yesteryear.

Kathleen Edwards "Asking for Flowers"

I love when I get unexpected musical crushes, when I can't wait to gobble up an album again and again. It makes me dig my job even more. It makes me realize I'd be miserable doing anything else.

I'm currently infatuated with Canadian folk-rocker Kathleen Edwards, whose new album is called Asking for Flowers. (Thanks to the reader out there who goosed my interest in her. I listen to you guys more than you think.) Edwards, the 29-year-old daughter of diplomats, is proud to strut such influences as Neil Young, Bob Dylan and Tom Petty. She can reference Marty McSorley and John Fogerty in the same song. Bet she could drink me under the table, too.

A curious colleague asked for a comparison, so I said Edwards sounds like Tanya Donelly covering a rollicking Bruce Springsteen song. Or, at the very least, Nanci Griffith fronting the Counting Crows. I dunno. I'm still trying to peg her. See for yourself with these two music clips...

Click here for the song The Cheapest Key.

Click here for the song Asking for Flowers.

LIVE IDOL! And Then There Were 12

So tonight we found out American Idol's Final 12. Not a lot of shockers, but some fairly decent drama. In order to highlight my Nostradamus-like prognosticating, here were my predicted doinkings:

Luke "Kmart Orlando Bloom" Menard is definitely gone. And because he ignored the healing power of James Ingram, Chikezie will no doubt follow. Those are my official answers. HOWEVER, if I'm David Cook, I didn't sleep too well last night.

As for the girls, Amanda Overmyer-Daly has reversed her fortunes with blazing overnight speed. She's now a wounded animal, the odd duck, and America digs an underdog. Amanda will be around next week. Kady Malloy, however, is screwed. Vapid blond Kristy Lee Cook should follow, but here's my UPSET SPECIAL: Kmart Whitney Houston Asia'h Epperson gets the boot. Those Higgins pants last night didn't do her any favors.

Was I right? Let's see...

GOODBYE #1: KADY MALLOY: "Who Wants to Live Forever." Yep, once again Idol loooves irony. I kinda liked Kady. Really I did. And when the sexy lil' impressionist makes a buddy comedy with that noisemaking dude from "Police Academy," I'll be the first in line to buy tickets.

GOODBYE #2: LUKE MENARD: Luke is so successfully milquetoast, he's rendered me zingerless. So who's the real loser here? Well played, Mr. Menard. Well played.

GOODBYE #3: ASIA'H EPPERSON: I have very few victories in life. So forgive me, Asia'h, for celebrating your cruel ousting. But alas: Let the upset special, shine a light on me!

GOODBYE #4: DANNY NORIEGA: Wow, I can't wait to check out Danny's NEXT YouTube rant. By the way, did you see Chikezie dancing at the end of the show? Hilarious. You'd think he had a winning Lotto ticket in his pocket. And who knows? Maybe he does.

HERE'S YOUR TOP 12: David Cook, David Archuleta, Jason Castro, Brooke White, Syesha Mercado, David Hernandez, Michael Johns, Ramiele Malubay, Carly Smithson, Amanda Overmyer, Kristy Lee Cook, Chikezie.

Odds & Ends & Money for Nothing

Not only did my Jonas Brothers profile hit the streets today (you can read that here), but it's printed on a Tiger Beat-tastic pull-out poster of the shaggy Jersey boys. (Huzzahs to designer Jessica Parker Gilbert, who embraced her inner 12-year-old.) I'm honored that my saucy prose will be littering junior-high lockers all over the great state of Florida. By the way, the hate mail is already starting to roll in. Maybe I'll try to run some of that on Hate Mail Friday...

In not-even-closely-related news, Mark Knopfler will be playing Ruth Eckerd Hall on Wednesday, July 30 at 8 p.m. I find that extremely exciting news. I'm a sucker for his solo work, his soundtracks (Wag the Dog is a vital part of my iPod "Chill-Out" mix) and, of course, his days with Dire Straits. Tickets go on sale this Friday at 10 a.m. Call (727) 791-7400 or go to ticketmaster.com. If you see me in the crowd, come say hello.

IDOL RECAP: Leather Tuscadero Lives!

It was the gals' turn to crank out the '80s tunes on "American Idol" Wednesday. How did they do? Who rocked? Who tanked? Well, let's just say Amanda Overmyer can start practicing "Revolution" for next week's Beatles show.

ASIA'H EPPERSON: "I Wanna Dance With Somebody." Nice, peppy rendition. But why was she wearing Higgins' pants from "Magnum P.I."? Zeus! Apollo! Patrol!

KADY MALLOY: Kady Malloy covering Freddie Mercury is a lot like me playing the lead in a [THIS PUNCHLINE HAS BEEN EDITED FOR CONTENT. PLEASE INSERT YOUR OWN JOKE AT SEAN'S EXPENSE].

AMANDA OVERMYER: Was I the only one getting a Leather Tuscadero vibe? My badass Biker Nurse is still uncomfortable onstage, but there were great gobs of sexy in her rendition of Joan Jett's "I Hate Myself for Loving You." Hot, very hot. The Fonz would approve.

CARLY SMITHSON: Not the Cyndi we expected, but Lauper nonetheless. Good, safe, fine...yawn.

KRISTY LEE COOK: Cook needs a better brand of shoe polish for her eyebrows. But hey, we finally got a little Journey. And I do mean a little.

RAMIELE MALUBAY: Now THAT's a Phil Collins song. Alas, the Polynesian Pixie gussied up "Against All Odds" instead of delivering it as a suckerpunch. You need to suffer that song. For instance, when I sing it, I like to rip out a patch of chest hair.

BROOKE WHITE: Brooke is so sensitive, so natural, so deep. Ugh. I bet she wears a big, floppy hat when she goes to the beach.

SYESHA MERCADO: Syesha's legs made me wanna pull a Costner and "Bodyguard" her out of there. Solid performance, sensational stems.