Loogie loogie, oh no, we gotta go...

Snort! Hock! Ptooey! In all my years of concertgoing, I had never seen people so excited to get spat upon. But a few years ago, in the front row at a Motley Crue gig in Washington, D.C., Sasquatchian bassist Nikki Sixx launched a massive loogie at his faithful fans...and darn if the ticket-buyers didn’t relish his expectorate as if it were the Fountain of Youth. Oh, it was foul all right. But it also demonstrated that a Motley Crue show is unlike any other, the kind of vile, freaky, TOTALLY AWESOME!!! rock experience that doesn’t happen much anymore. Even in their 40s and 50s, Sixx, singer Vince Neil, drummer Tommy Lee and guitarist Mick Mars are complete and utter heathens. But in a strange, shocking way, the Sunset Strip-born band is also totally worth the price of admission. So although the rest of Thursday's Crue Fest bill is a little weak, I say go anyway, at least for the headliners. You won’t be sorry. Plus as a bonus, new album Saints of Los Angeles is surprisingly satisfying (REVIEW), so you can enjoy the oldies and newbies. Oh, and if you’re in the front row, you might wanna wear a poncho.

5 Best Motley Crue Songs...

Crue Fest, featuring Motley Crue, Buckcherry, Papa Roach, Sixx AM and Trapt, starts 4 p.m. Thursday, July 3 at Ford Amphitheatre, Interstate 4 at U.S. 301 N, Tampa. $29.50-$95. (813) 740-2446.

"If you text it, I'll delete it..."

Here's the new Miley Cyrus song, "7 Things." Her new album, "Breakout," hits stores July 22. Kid Lulu sez: "Yuck, she said the word love." Kid Lulu's father sez: "Crown Royal, please."

PODCAST TIME! And the Oscar goes to...

This week's Stuck in the '80s podcast is all about Spearsy and I working the throngs at Tropicana Field, breaking hearts and solving crimes with Kool and the Gang on '80s Night. It's a whimsical romp and tons of run. That said, the biggest buzz behind this episode is the spectacular special FX-laden intro. We've done a few of these hellzapoppin' show starts, but this one is jam-packed with special guests, inside jokes, Easter eggs, bawdy madcappery and more.

Spearsy and I thesp it up pretty good, busting out our acting chops. And per usual in our fiercely competitive relationship, we've started squabbling about this, as well. So we leave it to you: Who's the better actor? Spearsy or Daly? You can listen to the show HERE. And then you can vote in the comments section down there. I'll ask those of you who long to see Spears in a Speedo to try and play fair. I know you love him, but I have feelings, too. Enjoy! 

Your Daddy does rock 'n' roll...

I'm about to start work on a heart-warming, award-winning, not-a-dry-eye-in-the-house feature about parent-child bonding through music. For reasons both obvious and sociological, I'm leaning towards Dads and daughters, especially as the girls grow up and do girl stuff that totally bamboozles us dudes. That said, I want to hear from ALL parents about songs and stories from your house.

A few weekends ago, one of the bright spots of seeing my Dad in Baltimore was our rather spirited discussion of Donald Fagen and Steely Dan. It was the most passionate talk we had all week. And back in the Daly manse, Kid Lulu is hankering for more and more Madonna boogie parties. I never decline her invitations. After all, it was the blokes in Duran Duran who once told me, "You should always dance with your daughters."

New Randy Newman album out Aug. 5

NPR's All Songs Considered is raving about the upcoming Randy Newman album, Harps and Angels, calling it the sound of a "languid Southern summer" and comparing the 10-track disc to both Sail Away and Good Old Boys. I'm not sure I can think of higher praise. This is the 64-year-old's first batch of new studio stuff since 1999's Bad Love. A PR blurb says the album covers "matters of life and death, memory and loss, the discontents of the rich and famous, the problems of the poor, governmental malfeasance, corporate cynicism, and the veritable end of an empire, namely, our own" -- but isn't that EVERY Randy Newman album?

Anyway, to read more about the Aug. 5 release, GO HERE.

And to read some of Randy's classically dry journal entries, GO HERE.

And last but not least, here's the new "A Few Words in Defense of Our Country":

Motley Crue's "Saints of Los Angeles"

Motley Crue
Album: Saints of Los Angeles (Motley)
In stores: Now
Why we care: In 2001, four wise men sat down to write the greatest book in the history of, like, reading and stuff. That would be Motley Crue’s oral tell-all, The Dirt, a poignant potrait of hope, faith and that one time friend Ozzy Osbourne snorted ants and urine. The metalheads' new album, the first in a decade to feature all four original members, is the sinful soundtrack to that lit masterpiece. (The movie version, directed by Larry Charles and starring Val Kilmer and Christopher Walken, is slated for 2009.)
Why we like it: This doesn’t come close to the sleazy heights of Dr. Feelgood, but it's still good to have the boys back and bawdy. Vince Neil’s excessive facelifting has apparently killed his vocals. But Tommy Lee still pounds out a trademark beat, and despite a debilitating disease, Mick Mars can still shred. As for Nikki's overly angry songwriting, let's just say dude has some serious lady issues.
Reminds us of: Stumbling down the Sunset Strip (debauchery has never felt so good)
Download this: White Trash Circus and Saints of Los Angeles
Grade: C+

Go for the "Submarine." Stay for "The Stroke."

No offense to all you Beatlemaniacs out there, but the best thing about the long-touring Ringo and His All Starr Band has always been the Funny One's stellar supporting cast. Sure, it's reassuring to hear Ringo warble Yellow Submarine. But over the years, he's traveled with such prized commodities as Dave Edmunds, Peter Frampton and Levon Helm, all of whom shared spotlight time with the famous drummer. This year, Ringo's gold-plated backup band might be his best. Men at Work's Colin Hay is a tremendous singer-songwriter; if he steps up to do an acoustic version of Overkill, you'll be floored. Seventies star Gary Wright will be good for Dream Weaver and Love Is Alive. And guaranteeing a raucous, rollicking time will be Billy Squier ripping out The Stroke and Everybody Wants You. Oh, and you get Edgar Winter and his Frankenstein.

Ringo Starr and His All Starr Band, featuring Billy Squier, Gary Wright, Edgar Winter, Hamish Stuart, Gregg Bissonette and Colin Hay, performs at 8 p.m. Wednesday, July 2. Ruth Eckerd Hall, 1111 McMullen-Booth Road, Clearwater. $69.50-$79.50. (727) 791-7400.

I needed a pick-me-up

Shooter Jennings. "4th of July." Enjoy.

...but your kids are gonna love it

Never mind the lead hunk with eyebrows the size of Snickers bars. Never mind the script seemingly penned by my 4-year-old daughter. Never mind the dollar-store production values that make High School Musical play like Citizen Kane.

Flimsy flaws and all, Disney Channel musical Camp Rock is a big fat hit. The movie's Friday debut drew 8.9 million tizzied tweens (and dizzied parents), which makes it the Mouse House network's second-biggest debut ever behind last year's High School Musical 2.

Camp Rock stars shaggy pop phenoms the Jonas Brothers — bro Joe plays the hunk in need of tweezers — plus a gaggle of unknowns dying to be the next Zac Efron. (Don’t know Zac? Go to your kid’s room and check out the poster on the back of her door. Yep, that dude.) The ruddy-cheeked cuties go to music camp, cry a little, laugh a little, have the requisite food fight and learn life lessons in the finale form of a yay-prepubescence! group sing.

Nobody can act a lick in Camp Rock, but that's not the point. The movie’s stars dress cool, dance cool, talk cool — all without dinging Disney cliche. And while the movie’s shelf life will last, the movie’s soundtrack will last even longer. The music isn’t all that good, mind you — but it is good enough to play in Mom’s taxi for the next four months...or until High School Music 3 hits theaters in October.

I'm on record for liking a lot of the G-rated rock from Disney franchises High School Musical and Hannah Montana. I’m not saying it’s the Beatles (or even the Rutles). But the company’s loyal fleet of songwriters — including Matthew Gerrard, Robbie Nevil, Jamie Houston and Andy Dodd — know how to frame vaguely hip affirmations in power-pop outlines. They are ad men first and foremost, but they occasionally throw caution to the wind and go for genuine art. HSM’s phenomenal ensemble piece Stick to the Status Quo would fit in just fine in Godspell.

There’s nothing that ambitious on the Camp Rock soundtrack, which was an immediate sales bully on iTunes. Instead, the 12-track album ultimately sounds like a starter course in how to write an up-with-tweens hit. Big beat, layered guitars, shout-out chorus. Once you know one lyric — "Raise your hands up in the air and scream / We’re finding our voice, following our dreams" — you know ’em all. It’s repeatedly stressed that “all kinds of music” are taught at the titular camp. But even the hip-hop (and I use that term loosely, like calling Funyuns a vegetable) is processed through the same synthy grinder.

The Jonas Brothers, who are basically Shaun Cassidy with guitar lessons, only have one song on the soundtrack: the jaunty gem Play My Music, which is like pop-punk for beginners. (The JoBros new album is scheduled for August.) Joe does get some alone time with female lead Demi Lovato, but their duet doesn’t spark nearly as well as HSM’s Start of Something New. (Troy + Gabriella = 4EVA!)

In fact, for the first time, Disney’s gold-dusted songwriters deliver a couple of other duds, too. You never knew how much you liked Ashley Tisdale (HSM’s snotty Sharpay) until you hear Camp Rock’s vanilla villainess Meaghan Martin do a brutal Britney on Too Cool and 2 Stars.

But just when all seems lost, along comes what would have been the best song on Sheryl Crow’s last album. Written by Jamie Houston (and ghost-warbled by Renee Sandstrom), Here I Am starts as a surly little rocker and turns into a big orchestrated weeper. Performed in the movie by a sweet supporting player, it’s the lone nuanced song on Camp Rock, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it charts with adults, too.

My daughter and her pals are already wailing that song, and all the rest on the Camp Rock soundtrack, as if they were gospel. So really now, never mind what Daddy says. As far as Disney is concerned, mission accomplished.

WANTED: The Red, White & Wahoo Playlist

Hey kids, my editors have asked me to put together a not-so-obvious patriotic playlist for our July 3 Weekend mag. That means Lee Greenwood is out; but the A-Team Theme is so in!

We're thinking outside the box on this one. Songs that make you feel all flaggy inside, songs that make Granny's potato salad taste that much better on Independence Day. (Okay, you're allowed one Arthur Fiedler rendition of The Stars and Stripes Forever. And Ray Charles' America the Beautiful is mandatory. But that's it. I want different.)

Just off the top of my melonhead, here are a few possibilities...

Dancing Across the U.S.A. -- Lindsey Buckingham
4th of July -- Shooter Jennings
Cadillac Ranch -- Bruce Springsteen
Beer for My Horses -- Toby Keith & Willie Nelson
America -- Simon & Garfunkel
Living in America -- James Brown

N.E.R.D.'s "Seeing Sounds"

This is one of my fave albums of the year. It's a wild, kitchen-sink extravaganza, as much EWF or P-Funk or Fishbone as it is Pharrell's usual club-bangers. The album starts out with Danny Elfman-esque lunacy and even gambols into Beatlesville. At the very least, check out Sooner or Later. For the more adventurous, Spaz.

N.E.R.D.
Album: Seeing Sounds (Star Trak)
In stores: Now
Why we care: Of all the gold-plated producers running the hip-hop game, Pharrell Williams has always been one of the the most eclectic, eccentric, different. Whether he's jamming under the guise of the Neptunes or N.E.R.D., he’s comically restless, the thinking-man's Timbaland. Here, with the help of pals Chad Hugo and Shae, he mixes jazz bop, Maggot Brain squirm and house-party chants. "Spaz if you want to!"
Why we like it: Not only is N.E.R.D.'s third effort their best, it’s also their most rhythmically complex, as the beats are both cosmic and organic, like James T. Kirk captaining Parliament-Funkadelic. The bass lines sound borrowed from a meringue lesson; the energy sounds born in a mosh pit.
Reminds us of: Sooner or Later = Al Green covering the Beatles.
Download these: Windows (LISTEN), Everyone Nose (WATCH), Spaz and Sooner or Later
Grade: A

The Jumbotron Is Slimming

Just wanted to say thanks to all the Stuck in the '80s fans who came out to Tropicana Field on Saturday. (Sherrie! Dominic! SurfDog! Sweet Looooooooooo!) I had a great time up in the TBT* Party Deck -- and had an even better time down on the field. Mere seconds after the Rays came from behind to smite the Astros in the bottom of the 9th, Steve Spears and I were marched onto the field to "help" (but not really) announce the winner of the '80s Dress-Up Thingie. We were given approx. 3.7 seconds to talk and just a bit more to ham it up.

To be honest, the far greater thrills were (1) scampering into the brilliantly filthy Rays dugout and (2) staring at myself on the Jumbotron. I was expecting to look wicked Jabba-fat up there, but they musta turned on the vertical trimmer, 'cause I swear I only had two chins instead of the normal four. Instead of playing it cool, I tried to stand in front of the camera at all times, craning my neck to see my massive form played out on the big screen. Yeah, it was rookie league. But screw you, I looked hot. 

Gaels! Gaels! Gaels!

Because one Celtic-inspired boobie restaurant is not enough, that classy town of Clearwater now has two Gaelic gawk joints: the Irish O'Boobigan's and the Scottish Tilted Kilt. Last week, incandescent food critic Laura Reiley (going deep undercover in a "I Heart My Hooters" T-shirt) and yours truly (trying not to stare and, per usual, failing miserably) spent far-too-many journalistic hours in each skintastic establishment. Here's the LINK. At the very least, it's good for a few much-needed Monday morning laffs.

Brother, Can You Spare a Song?

SONGS FOR A RECESSION

Good thing I'm so gosh darn handsome, 'cause I'm about to start paying bills solely with my good looks. Hoo boy, these are wicked times, my brethren. A couple of my good friends were just laid off. Everything is brutally expensive. The MAZD picked a bad time to get 1.7 miles per gallon. I went to pay the mortgage the other day, and my checkbook actually laughed at me. It was cool at first, but then my checkbook just didn't know when to quit. Oh well, it's a good thing the newspaper business is so robust, or I might really be sweating (cue nervous laughter).

Anyway, it's times like these when we turn to song to lift our weary spirits. So let's jack up the Pop Life Playlist and sing a few tunes for the recession. C'mon, don't cost nothing...

Hard Times (No One Knows Better Than I) -- Ray Charles
Poor Poor Pitiful Me -- Warren Zevon
Kill the Poor -- Dead Kennedys
Money (That's What I Want) -- John Belushi
Busted -- Charley Pride
Eat the Rich -- Aerosmith
Loan Me a Dime -- Boz Scaggs
16 Tons -- Tennessee Ernie Ford
How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live -- Bruce Springsteen

The Forever Fiancee Sez...

...I have too many pix of Ashley Tisdale on my blog. So in a strongly worded email, she just "requested" that I immediately post this portrait of David Beckham. Normally I wouldn't sully the integrity of Pop Life with such filth. But I've been living in the doghouse for awhile now, so enjoy this snap of Posh's perfect paramour.

Odds & Ends & '80s Night

Hey kids, a loooo...oooo...ooong night coupled with a heap o' crap today has me kinda dizzy. But I don't want you (read: Marissa) to feel ignored. So here's some shameless promotion plus a request for help.

STEVE AND SEAN GO TO A BALLGAME: This Saturday is '80s Night at Tropicana Field, so naturally the good folks in the Tampa Bay Rays organization invited Spearsy and I to bring our Stuck in the '80s schtick to the ballyard. I don't know all the details (they just tell me to show up and look pretty), but I think we're emceeing zaniness in the TBT Party Deck, then rocking the mike ON THE FIELD (!) for the judging of a '80s Costume Party (which is right before a free show by Kool & the Gang). I understand some of our listeners will also be in attendance, so feel free to come tell me how much more handsome I am in person. For tix to the game, go HERE.

NEED HELP: This goes out to local bands in the Tampa Bay region. I'm working on a photo-driven story about cool, funky home recording studios. I'm looking for everything from the indie dude in a cramped one-bedroom working the Pro Tools to the girl making beats in her souped-up garage. Shoot me an email (sdaly@sptimes.com) if you or someone you know wouldn't mind us crashing your home studio for some pix and some questions. Rock, rap, country, jazz -- all welcome. Thanks.

REVIEW: Coldplay's "Viva La Vida"

Every time the heart-sleeved Brits in Coldplay release a new album of earnestly overwrought anthems, chief 'play boy Chris Martin swears they've changed their sound. He thinks he's telling the truth. He's not.

Detractors dig on Martin & Co. for ripping off U2, but that's wrong. U2 evolves. Coldplay repeatedly settles for sonic stasis: swelling seas of piano and guitar, sensitive-boy poetry, we’re-all-lonely-together crescendoes.

And here we ho-hum again: Their fourth full-length, Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends, longs to bear-hug our war-torn world. Sure, there are a few "changes": Martin’s throatier singing, Middle Eastern instrumentation, a more aggressive center. But if you didn't buy into the gush before, you’re not gonna buy it now — especially since this is the weakest Coldplay yet.

Listen, these guys are incapable of making ugly music. Opening instrumental Life in Technicolor is genuinely inspiring, as vaguely modern pulses merge peacefully with the ornate plucks of a Persian santur. Plus under the tutelage of frequent U2 producer Brian Eno, guitarist Jonny Buckland conjures prickly Edge to his dramatic licks, especially on Yes and Violet Hill.

But with Coldplay, it all comes down to the gooseflesh factor, how well Martin can make you feel as if you're starring in your own cinematic epic (see 2002’s The Scientist). And here, that special connection is often missing. Much of the new material is too gauzy, too abstract. It's a well-meaning concept album about faith that often loses its heartbeat — Coldplay without the gutwrench. So maybe things have changed after all...just not for the better.

Coldplays "Viva La Vida"

BLOG BATTLE! Cyndi vs. the B-52s

You haven't lived until you've seen '80s-stuck sucker Steve Spears do his undulating boogie to the B-52s' Love Shack. It's both horrifying yet strangely seductive. Well, the first time he does it. Spearsy insists on constantly forcing his B-52s infatuation on others. It's become a real problem. Sometimes in the cafeteria, he'll sneak up behind coworkers and scream "Rock lobster!" He thinks it's funny, even when they splatter gravy on their work tie. This must stop. Now.

Spearsy just challenged me to an old-fashioned blog battle featuring his beloved B-52s vs. the incandescent Cyndi Lauper, both of whom play the True Colors extravaganza tonight at Clearwater's Ruth Eckerd Hall (INFO). He, of course, thinks Fred & Co. should headline. I think Cyndi has more than earned the right to rule. And here's why.

TOP 3 REASONS CYNDI SHOULD HEADLINE:

3. The 54-year-old still indulges in her so-unusual shtick. But beneath all of that eye-rolling cheekiness is one of the great (and greatly underrated) voices in the pop canon, a little-girl-lost quaver with big-girl repercussions. Check out her 2003 cover of Walk on By.

2. Even though she spent way too much time with Captain Lou Albano, we're still talking about Lauper in reverent tones. Rowdy Roddy Piper should be so lucky.

1. With the exception of the Village People's YMCA and the Divinyls I Touch Myself, there's never been such a widely accepted song of sexual expression as Lauper’s self-congratulatory She Bop. You can't stop messing with your "danger zone" -- and neither can Cyndi. God bless us, every one.

To read Spearsy's re-BUTT-al, go HERE. Just watch out for your work tie.

Ed Harcourt's "The Beautiful Lie"

Ed Harcourt
Album: The Beautiful Lie (Dovecote)
In stores: Now
Why we care: British loner Ed Harcourt is an established star overseas, but his quirky brand of late-night Brit-pop hasn’t caught on here. That's too bad. He's a mix of Radiohead’s experimentation and Badly Drawn Boy's cheek. Buy him a beer, and he’ll sing you a weird, wonderful lament.
Why we like it: Harcourt is using curious sounds, and curiouser time changes, to build his soft, strange sing-alongs. You Only Call Me When You're Drunk goes from wistful to zany halfway through, while The Last Cigarette merges acoustic guitar and gypsy violin.
Reminds us of: If Elton John had an indie son who was more like Dad than he’d ever admit.
Download this: Until Tomorrow Then (LISTEN) and Visit From the Dead Dog (WATCH)
Grade: B

In Sean's Mailbox: Liz Phair's naughty bits

My flight home from Charm City was delayed 4 hours last night. After reading Esquire, Vanity Fair, the Washington Post and the Baltimore Sun, that left just 3 and a half hours to stare into the pre-boarding abyss. I got home around 2 a.m. My cab ride across Tampa Bay was performed by a half-lidded sad sack who'd been driving for 17 straight hours. Although I was about to pass out, I peppered him with small talk so he wouldn't nod off and steer us into the frosty waters of our area's namesake. Good times, good times.

Anyway, this day is gonna slay me. But at least I managed to empty my mailbox already. Unfortunately (or fortunately), the new Coldplay album was NOT in there. Anybody hear it yet?

Here's what the CD gods have bestowed upon me today...

Liz Phair, Exile in Guyville: 15th Anniversary Edition (2CD)
N.E.R.D., Seeing Sounds
Ry Cooder, I, Flathead
Disturbed, Indestructible
Gilberto Gil, Banda Larga Cordel
Reckless Kelly, Bulletproof
From First to Last, From First to Last

Cheating on the MAZD

So I've been up in Baltimore the last few days. It hasn't been an easy trip. In fact, it's been brutal. But one blessed blip of levity in this relentless lesson in Getting Old has been my rental car.

Okay, so a Mitsubishi Eclipse isn't exactly Magnum's Ferrari. But as many of you know, I normally drive a MAZD. (Leave the "A" off for awesomeness!) The MAZD's engine light has been blinking since the Clinton administration. The engine rattles as if the world's second-largest ball of tinfoil is trapped under the hood. The newest fresh hell is a droopy ceiling liner, which flutters wildly in the wind. I'd close the windows to cut down on said flutter, but the MAZD overheats when I run the AC. (On a positive note, the constant sweating has me down to 218 lbs. This is down from Really Fat Guy to Fat Guy. Next up, my college weight of 197.)

So: the Eclipse. It's essentially a two-seater. When I get behind the wheel, I feel like I'm crawling into bed. All the dials, knobs and cool crap on the dash glow a Tron-ish blue at night. When I need the car to kick ass, when I need the car to vroom mightily, it does. Zip, zip, zip. All I need now are some Magnum-esque crimes to solve. Unfortunately, the only mystery to crack up thisaway is How Not to Get Old. But I might need more than a long weekend to figure that one out.

I have to drive the Eclipse back to airport today, but I think I might duck out of reality early and go joy-riding. Maybe see my old house, the one where Kid Lulu was born, all those years ago.

By the way, last night, as I drove from Dad's to Mom's and back again, a local radio station was highlighting old Casey Kasem broadcasts from the '80s. It was great, just what I needed. Whitney Houston was duking it out with Bon Jovi. I've never been a huge fan of either. But last night, in the Eclipse, driving from tough to tougher, I was rooting for them both.   

The Father's Day Playlist

Here are a few things my father gave me, an incomplete lesson in genetics on this most manly of holidays:

An ever-present canary-chomping grin, which causes most people to assume I'm either (1) totally insincere or (2) totally about to steal their wallet. Neither of which is true...usually.

The uncontrollable urge to blurt something smart-alecky to someone who won’t appreciate it, like that time in fourth grade when Matt R. slugged me for talking about his sister.

A glass jaw, which no doubt leads to our DNA-entrenched distaste for confrontation. For better or worse, my father and I long to be liked by everyone, including (usually) each other.

Naturally hairless arms and legs, which causes most people to assume I’m either (1) shaving my extremities or (2) half-man, half-porpoise. Neither of which is true, so stop asking.

Open disdain for Father’s Day cards that stereotype us as couch-stuck flatulents whose only pastimes are golfing, fishing and acting like a macho turd. Who’s running Hallmark anyway? Al Bundy?

A love of music. Thanks, Dad.

The ability to forgive and forget, to move on. I totally forgave Matt R. for slugging me. Then again, his sister loooved me.

A potty mouth. I should greatly dislike this coarse trait, but the truth is that swearing up a blue streak makes me feel closer to my father. We don’t talk much, and we trade affections even less. But whenever I unleash the f-bombs, darn if I don’t think of him.

•••

Here are a few things I gave my daughters, a 4-year-old and a 4-month-old:

Ever-present canary-chomping grins, which cause their parents to assume they’re (1) guilty of something or (2) extremely smart. Both of which are definitely true. Those grins can be trouble, girls, so use ’em wisely.

Hearty appetites. My father was always thin. But any descendent of mine will eventually have a rabid attraction to bacon. Sorry, girls. It’s a blessing and a curse.

The uncontrollable urge to blurt something smart-alecky to someone who won't appreciate it, like this morning when I woke my older girl and she said, "You’re already making this a long day."

The ability to pick things up with their toes. It’s an unsightly ability that is nevertheless handy when you don’t want to bend for a rogue sock. I’m not sure if my father can do this. I’ll have to ask him next time we talk.

A potty mouth. The other day, my 4-year-old and I were having a cup-filling contest during bathtime. I was winning, so she halted the proceedings. “This is fresh water,” she explained, motioning to her cups. “And this,” she said, pointing to my cups, “is (bleepin’ bleep) water.” Whoa! What?! She was immediately toweled off and sent to her room. And yet, when I took a private moment to consider my daughter’s language, this much is definitely true: I hadn’t felt that close to my father in years.

Songs for Dads and Daughters

1. Papa's Got a Brand New Bag, James Brown
2. Papa Was a Rolling Stone, the Temptations
3. Father and Daughter, Paul Simon
4. Cat’s in the Cradle, Harry Chapin
5. Papa Don’t Preach, Madonna
6. Big Daddy of Them All, John Mellencamp
7. Daughter, Pearl Jam
8. Little Miss Magic, Jimmy Buffett
9. Listen to What the Man Said, Wings
10. We Are Family, Sister Sledge

LIVE REVIEW: Pearl Jam

Pearl Jam's bass guitarist, Jeff Ament, performs at the St. Pete Times Forum.  [GEN YAMAGUCHI | Times]

Hey gang, I've never been a huge Pearl Jam fan, but I gotta say: This was one of the best shows I've seen down in FLA. The setlist -- which can be hit-or-miss with these guys -- was just about perfect.

TAMPA – Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder was confused. The singer thought he was playing a Thursday gig in Tampa. But the venue's name "has something to do with St. Petersburg," he head-scratched. Plus a Canadian flag hung from the rafters.

"Where in the [bleep] are we?" he asked the 13,746 raucous fans at the St. Pete Times Forum.

For an answer, Vedder eventually settled on the geographical nirvana of "the here and now," which must be the mercurial frontman's favorite place to rock. Because not only was he in a goofily giving mood with his onstage beverages (he covertly passed a dark bottle to the folks in the front row), but the 43-year-old and his battery mates spent more than two thunderous hours hammering out the band's most arena-churning sing-alongs.

A "hits show" isn't always the case with Pearl Jam, which routinely swaps out great chunks of setlists on a routine basis, focusing instead on rarities and B-sides. After all, in almost two decades of work, the band has nurtured a rabid fan base that knows every word, every nuance.

But hey, the faithful apparently flip for the know-'em-by-hearters, too. And after opening song "Sometimes," the stage lights ignited and the band started one heckuva run, churning out such arena-rousers as "Corduroy," "Why Go," "Daughter," "Betterman" -- all the way to encore takes of "Alive" and "Yellow Ledbetter."

"This is dedicated to anyone who happens to live in Bradenton, Fla.," Vedder said, launching into the sweet refrain of "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town."

One of the Seattle band's first hits, 1991 mantra "Even Flow," was stretched to epically awesome lengths, with lead guitarist Mike McCready maniacally shredding as Vedder sauntered offstage looking for a refill.

Since their grungy beginnings, Pearl Jam has properly morphed into a complex, multi-faceted rock machine. It's also a highly political crew. But Vedder was engaging with his speechifying. At the end of hypnotically hopeful "Wishlist," he added a wartime coda of "Bring 'em home, bring 'em home."

In a nostalgic story about growing up in the bleachers of Chicago's Wrigley Field, Vedder tucked in a plug for his candidate of choice, Barack Obama. (The 30-something crowd unloaded a mix of boos and huzzahs.)

Through it all, Pearl Jam never lost the crowd's energy, everyone on hand giving back as much as they got. A haunting "Black" had the crowd a-cappella cooing by song's end. And the night's highlight was Vedder's stunning acoustic cover of the Beatles' "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away."

It's inevitable that people will complain about the show's sound quality. But lemme say this: If there were ever a band to play in a cavernous arena, it's these guys. Vedder & Co. rock and rage from the bottoms of their beautifully messy hearts. It's not perfect, but it is Pearl Jam.

Starfish needs a driving-at-night playlist

Hey gang, delightful Pop Life reader Starfish needs help. In the previous posting, Starfish requested the following:

I need a REALLY good playlist for my trip to NC next week. I'll be driving at night, so not something that puts me to sleep preferably, i don think the bf would like it if I ran us off the road. ha. Your influences would be greatly appreciated!

So let's hear some chatter out there. There are gobs of good suggestions in the Live Chat extravaganza (the Fratellis, Katy Perry, N.E.R.D., Flo Rida!!!!!!).

The late-night drive is also a dramatic time, so you need something upbeat but anthemic. U2, Sly Stone. Spearsy just walked over and said Radar Love and Detroit Rock City. He's smart like that. 

The Fratellis "Here We Stand"

Hey kids, we just had a great live chat about new music and old music, the usefulness of Flo Rida and the lameness of Dave Matthews. You can check out the transcript HERE. One of the new faves mentioned was the Fratellis, with whom several of us have seriously fall in love. Anyway, I had to write up a quickie review of the Scots' new album. So here's that. And I implore you to listen to their new song Look Out Sunshine!, which is pure (albeit a wee bit profane) bliss.

The Fratellis
Album: Here We Stand (Interscope)
In stores: Now
Why we care: These shaggy Scottish pub stars process the Beatles much like Brit peers Oasis used to do: with a wink, a pint and great, grimy hooks. This follows their 2006 debut, the riotous Costello Music, which wasn’t as slick...but wasn’t as good, either.
Why we like it: With its besotted abundance of melody and pugilistic punch, the album is like a well-meaning bear hug from the guy on the barstool next to you. One song could vie for best single of the year: Look Out Sunshine! shimmers along like a '60s confection, and its chorus ("And tell my friends I’ll be around / Getting nowhere, sleeping somewhere") is the very stuff of pop magic.
Reminds us of: The Arctic Monkeys with nicer girlfriends
Download this: Look Out Sunshine! (LISTEN) and A Heady Tale (LISTEN)
Grade: B+

LIVE CHAT! It's time to open up...

Welcome to the Pop Life Live Chat & Meat Market!

I'm all yours for the next two hours, from noon to 2 p.m. I have the headphones on, a mega-sized satchel of Funyuns at my feet and hot new pop tart Katy Perry (pictured) stripping on my desktop hi-fi. So let's chat. I'll provide a talking point, but this sucker is basically all yours. Feel free to stuff the comments section with random music picks, ridicule, shameless self-promotion (c'mon, local bands, let's hear it), Celtics-Lakers analysis, favorite pickup lines, etc.

WHAT'S ON YOUR SUMMER '08 PLAYLIST? So far, Weezer's Pork and Beans is my top track of the sweaty season (WATCH). It's not even close. In fact, I strongly believe the federal government should pay Rivers Cuomo to soundtrack every American summer. BTW, Weezer's self-titled new disc has two other surefire smashes: Troublemaker and Everybody Get Dangerous.

As for other summer songs, I'm also digging the Ting Tings' Shut Up and Let Me Go (WATCH), Katy Perry's I Kissed a Girl (WATCH), N.E.R.D.'s Everyone Nose (WATCH) and last but not least, Bryan Adams' I Thought I'd Seen Everything (LISTEN). As for new albums, check out Santogold, James Hunter and Martha Wainwright, all of whom I gushed about in my Summer Music Blowout.

Of course, knowing my core readership, many of you are currently rocking out to new product from Journey, Def Leppard, Asia and Night Ranger. (I think I have some fresh Dokken around here, too). So by all means, tell us what tracks to test, or post music links on the comments section, and let your freak flags fly...

Katy Perry's Naughty Debut

Today at noon, I'll be live chatting about my fave songs of the summer. Here's one of them, from 23-year-old L.A. It Girl Katy Perry, who's being hyped as "the new Gwen Stefani." With the way she likes to make boys uncomfortable, "the new Pink" is more like it. She's already an Internet and iTunes sensation; tomorrow she appears on "The Young and the Restless." Anyway, here's her song "I Kissed a Girl."

N.E.R.D.'s "Everyone Nose"

Hip-hop producer Pharrell is far more interesting with spazzy side project N.E.R.D. than anywhere else. Here he is with Neptunes cohort Chad Hugo, saluting (or is it condemning?) hard-partying pretty people like Lindsay Lohan. N.E.R.D.'s new album, "Seeing Sounds," came out today.

DALY TV: Wow, I've really let myself go

This morning on Fox 13's "Good Day Tampa Bay," I had 3 minutes to unload 10 minutes of summer music chatter and a shameless plug for tomorrow's Pop Life Live Chat & Primate House (noon, be here). They told me to talk fast. You can guess the outcome.

At the very least, it was good to see Russell Rhodes again. Love that guy.

Here's the link. If you're digging my rumpled Century 21 jacket, Vic at Men's Wearhouse can get you one for cheap.

Also out today: "The Hard Way"

James Hunter
Album: The Hard Way (Hear)
In stores: Today
Why we care: Looking like a British pub brawler, but sounding like Sam Cooke's ghost, the 45-year-old Hunter has been a secret weapon for far too long. He writes his own '60s-soul-kissed songs, picks a frisky Gibson and tours with a band that knows how to slay 'em. Now Starbucks is selling Hunter right next to its coffee. If anyone deserves star shine, it's this longtime busker.
Why we like it: It's a throwback house party complete with flirty innuendo, organ slides and sax blasts. It's so comfortable, so vintage, and yet this is all original material, whipped up in the 21st century. It nods to yesterday but cooks with today's gas. (You can read my interview with Hunter HERE.)
Reminds us of: Hunter's signature guitar move is a one-legged duckwalk, a pogo stroll. Let's see Guitar Hero Nation try that.
Download this: Don't Do Me No Favours (WATCH)
Grade: A

Out Tuesday: "Flavors of Entanglement"

Alanis Morissette
Album: Flavors of Entanglement (Warner Bros.)
In stores: Tuesday
Why we care: Of all the pop stars I've interviewed, no one has cursed up an R-rated storm like Alanis. At one point, our talk basically turned into a scene from Goodfellas. I'm telling you, it was love at first @%!$. (You can read my interview with her HERE.) So when she sings a blue streak on her first new material in four years, it makes me feel all bleepin' warm inside.
Why we like it: This isn't the best Alanis album. In fact, it's one of her weakest. With its Mideast swirls, trip-hop beats and oft-turgid self-analysis, it can play like a parody. But there are spots of remarkable revelation, including the spellbinding Not As We. "Day one, day one, start over again..."
Reminds us of: Thanks to ex Ryan Reynolds for being an inspirationally lousy boyfriend.
Download these: Not As We (LISTEN) and Torch
Grade: B-

PODCAST TIME! An epic battle of (nit)wits

Hey Boobirds, this week's contentious Stuck in the '80s podcast is all about "hot new" music from '80s acts. Steve Spears reports that this particular episode has proved incendiary, as listeners are up in arms about the treatment of such revered acts as Cyndi Lauper, Asia, Night Ranger, Madonna, R.E.M. and Journey.

But it's not just fans who are all het up. Halfway through the recording of the show, St. Pete Times security had to bust into the studio and separate Daly and Spearsy, as our talk turned into a raw-bellied battle more akin to the epic tussling of elephant seats. It wasn't pretty -- but I kicked his [bleep], which is all that matters.

Anyway, Steve and I made up this weekend. (He's a sucker for Econo Lodge and cheap wine.) But if you're dying to hear what all the hubbub is about, listen to the show HERE or download us on iTunes.

Wednesday. Noon. Be Here.

Because I care deeply about serious pop-music discussions, because I care even deeper about my loyal readers, there will be absolutely NO talk of Ashley Tisdale or her nimble kayaking skillz at Wednesday's Pop Life Live Chat & Think Tank, which starts right here at NOON ET and runs until 2 p.m. None. Not a peep. Promise.

Instead, we'll have incendiary blog battles, playlist challenges, music vids and maybe balloon animals for the kids. We can talk about whatever you want to talk about. And hey, if you're just dying to wax poetic about Ms. Tisdale, maybe you can convince me to lift the ban.

See you this Wednesday at noon.    

Behold the exotic Alaskan wildlife...

Semi-loyal blogger Guy is on an epic life quest to see a concert in every state. Much to his wife's chagrin, my Virginia-based pal's newest obsession is driving him to exotic lengths. (But the frequent flyer miles are killer!) Herewith, Guy's report from...

I went to a concert last Wednesday and a hockey game broke out, as hundreds of triple- and quadruple-fisting Alaskans sitting in the "wet" section of Anchorage's Sullivan Arena turned Elton John's first-ever concert in the Last Frontier into a house party.

The setlist was outstanding, as Elton, sans band, alternated Songs that Must be Played (Tiny Dancer, Crocodile Rock, Daniel, Rocket Man) with lesser-known album cuts (Ticking, from 1974's Caribou) and long-forgotten hits (Nikita).

The show itself was secondary to the sheer exuberance (and inebriation) of the crowd, which reacted enthusiastically to every bow (and there were many) and local reference by John, who, after a July show in Vermont, will have played concerts in all 50 states.

As for the obvious question of what in the hell I was doing at the show, the answer is simple: Elton's concert represented the halfway point of a personal quest to catch a concert in every state. The logistics were daunting: four five-hour flights, 1AM AKDT flights into and from Anchorage (within 24 hours), and several hours spent crashing on the surprisingly accomodative benches in Ted Stevens International Airport.

Was it worth it? Definitely. What’s not to like about a humidity-free, 65-degree day, spectacular views of ubiquitous, snow-capped mountains and a mouth-watering salmon BLT. Plus, I have a month to rest up before heading to Phoenix (State # 26) for the kick-off of the American Idol tour.

Thanks for the report, Guy. Good luck with the quest and the marriage. All of this Elton John talk has put me in the mood for one of my fave songs, Grey Seal, from 1973's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. So here you go. Have a good weekend, everybody.

Grey Seal - Elton John

Brenda and Eddie turn 30

Billy Joel
Album: The Stranger: 30th Anniversary Deluxe Edition (Columbia)
In stores: July 8
Why we care: Has it really been 30 years since we first waved Brenda and Eddie goodbye? Oy, I can totally feel my back going out on me. Somebody pass the Doan's. The Piano Man's '78 masterpiece, produced by my new best friend Phil Ramone (READ), gets the triple-disc treatment, with the remastered album plus a '77 show from Carnegie Hall and a DVD of rare footage — all in a slick collector's case. There's a very good chance I've listened to this album more than any other. Key to my happiness? Maybe, just maybe.
Why we like it: When those ominous piano pounds kick in at the 2:49 mark on Scenes From an Italian Restaurant, signaling an epic shift in storytelling, it's downright impossible not to get in on the dorky group sing.
Reminds us of: "They started to fight when the money got tight / And they just didn't count on the tears..."
Download these: Only the Good Die Young, Vienna -- oh hell, just download the whole damn thing.
Grade: A

Billy Joels "The Stranger"...

In case you were wondering...

Meet the Ting Tings, the band behind the latest batch of annoyingly infectious iPod ads. The song is called "Shut Up and Let Me Go." The British indie-pop duo is made up of dude Jules De Martino and hottie Katie White. The band's debut album, "We Started Nothing," just landed on my desk. It's ultimately more '80s dance fluff than Franz Ferdinand. I kinda dig it.

The Obama-Clinton Playlist

Now that he’s clinched the Democratic nomination for president, will Barack Obama ask Hillary Clinton to be his date for the Big Dance? And if he does, will the proud senator from New York agree to cha-cha-cha with the senator from Illinois? Those juicy answers are probably days away. But we couldn’t resist playing presumptive DJ and dreaming up campaign songs for an Obama-Clinton ticket. We have songs for all occasions, from wooing the Red States to claiming victory (or conceding defeat) on Nov. 4.

For the big announcement:
I’ll Stand By You, the Pretenders. It's rousing, it's catchy, it fools people into thinking these two would rather win the White House together then claw each other's mugs off in a steel-cage death match. Hooray for facades!
Other choices: I Got You Babe, Sonny & Cher; Could It Be I’m Falling in Love, the Spinners; Me and Mrs. Jones, Billy Paul.

For a pivotal stop at a rustic BBQ joint in the small-town Republican stronghold of Bushland, Texas: Friends in Low Places, Garth Brooks. The well-heeled Obama-Clinton ticket needs to convince us commoners that they can get down with the pulled-pork contingent. “I’m not big on social graces / Think I’ll slip on down to the oasis...” Look, Hillary’s riding the mechanical bull! Wahoo!
Other choices: Stuck in the Middle With You, Stealers Wheel; Everyday People, Sly & the Family Stone; I Love This Bar, Toby Keith.

For the $1-billion-a-plate schmoozefest thrown by Hollywood elitist David Geffen: Money Changes Everything, Cyndi Lauper. Thank God they got out of Bushland! Nice to be back among the richies and the foie gras. Look, there’s Spielberg! He can direct Obama’s heart-warming inauguration movie!
Other choices: Moneytalks, AC/DC; Lawyers, Guns and Money, Warren Zevon; Where Da Cash At, Curren$y.

For Michelle Obama and Hillary Clinton’s obligatory photo-op luncheon: A Woman’s Worth, Alicia Keys. We were thinking of suggesting Tammy Wynette’s Stand by Your Man. But then we remembered we’d get stabbed when we got home. Hooray for ladies!
Other choices: Sisters Are Doin' It for Themselves, the Eurythmics and Aretha Franklin; Girls Talk, Linda Ronstadt; Girls Gone Wild, Ludacris.

For Barack Obama and Bill Clinton’s obligatory photo-op luncheon:
Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word, Elton John. This one could get testy. After all, Clinton’s “fairy tale” line was a low blow. So this lunch is all about apologies first, grunty male-bonding after.
Other choices: (Just Like) Starting Over, John Lennon; It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World, James Brown; Check Her Out, Shakira.

If they win the presidency:
Two Tickets to Paradise, Eddie Money. “We’ve waited so long, waited so long...”
Other choices: Finally, CeCe Peniston; You and Me Against the World, Helen Reddy; We Are the Champions, Queen.

If they lose the presidency:
If I Could Turn Back Time, Cher. "It’s your fault!" "No, it’s your fault!" "I can’t believe I picked you!" "I can’t believe I lost to you!"
Other choices: I Hate Myself for Loving You, Joan Jett; Thanks for Nothing, Sum 41; Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off, Louis Armstrong.

Pearl Jam's Best Song

Still waiting on Pearl Jam guitarist Mike McCready to call. To keep myself awake, I'm listening to the band's best song, "Corduroy," from 1994 album "Vitalogy." Even the anti-PJ set will dig this one.

Questions for...Pearl Jam?

Pearl Jam comes to Tampa on June 12, so we're gonna gussy things up for the big, surly to-do. Alas, Eddie Vedder is a tough dude to get on the phone, but I will be chatting up lead guitarist Mike McCready later today. PJ has a slavish following, one the many reasons they've managed to keep selling out arenas while many of their early 90s rock counterparts have fallen by the wayside.

So...who has questions for Pearl Jam's Mike McCready? 

Coming next Wednesday...

It's the return of the Pop Life Live Chat & Peep Show.

But this time, it's 100% American Idol-free.

Next Wednesday, June 11, from noon to 2 p.m., we're gonna open up the blog lines for a live lunchtime music chat. I'll be all yours for two hours. You can ask me anything you want (unless you're the Forever Fiancee, in which case, we'll talk later).

We'll have a hot-button topic of the day, plus a few frisky surprises. If you wanna know if the new Usher album is any good, we can help. If you need the perfect playlist with which to seduce your dream crush, we can help with that, too. And if you crave an encore presentation of how I once used John Mellencamp's toilet, I can probably arrange that as well.

Although several Pop Life loyalists expressed interest in a weekly late-night live chat, my editors here decided I should instead focus on seducing workplace laze-abouts who'd rather hang with a randy music critic than do whatever it is they're supposed to be doing. Hopefully some of your favorite Pop Life blog stars will still show up anyway. (Can you call off from work, Marissa?)

Mark it on your calendar: Wednesday, June 11, noon-2 p.m.

I can't think of a better way to celebrate Hump Day...

In stores today: Weezer's "Red Album"

Weezer
Album: Weezer (Geffen)
In stores: Now
Why we care: