QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “It occurred to me by intuition, and music was the driving force behind that intuition. My discovery was the result of musical perception." (When asked about his theory of relativity)

As I whipped through the obvious picks- Top 40 drivel so embarrassingly mundane and soporific I shudder to even type their dreaded names here- I came across the undisputed kings of crapola: The 1910 Fruitgum Company. The evil conception of Jerry Kasenatz and Jeff Katz (where WOULD pop rock be without ingenious Jewish songwriters? For the answer to this and many more relevant questions, check out the tome Jews Who Rock by Guy Oseary, which I was given as a gift one year by a dear rock fan buddy of mine who also happens to be Jewish- you’ll never be the same, you have my word), the ‘Fruit- nobody called ‘em that but they SHOULDA!!- were a competent but decidedly uninspired gang of studio noodlers comprised of singers Joey Levine (who also sang for The Ohio Express, but we’ll get to that particular fuck-a-ree in a mo) and Mark Gutkowski, guitarists Pat Karwan, Chuck Travis and Frank Jeckell (triple axe attack, oo yeh babeh that HADDA rawk, uh!), horn blower Larry Ripley, and skin-men Floyd Marcus and Rusty Oppenheimer. I’m not even gonna check and see if Rusty was related to the guy who helped bring the atom bomb to fruition, considering his musical output, I’ll just take it as a given ...

Okay, all line-up and songwriting credit hoopla aside, the bottom line here is that the band shot straight to the top of the charts in 1968 (yes, the year Hendrix, The Yardbirds, The Doors, Cream, etc. were blazing their own fiery ways to the top; what the HELL was wrong with people ... oh yeah, they were SCARED!! Askeered of lil’ ol’ rock n’ roll ... heheheh) with sure-fire knee-knockers an’ brisket-bangers like “Simon Says,” “Goody Goody Gumdrops” and “1-2-3 Red Light.” I downloaded and listened to each of these, as well as tummy-terrorizers like “Chewy Chewy” and “Indian Giver.” Phew. What a load in the pants, man. Thing is, ‘til I sat down an’ really listened to some of the lyrics, I never realized that at least one of these sorry-ass soft-soapers actually had a rather devious, sexually-disturbed message squirreled away in the lyrics. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. NAWWWW!! Not me!!

Well, I’ll lay the theory out for yaz, an’ you can take it as ya see fit. Remember, I’m not saying that Monsieurs Kasenatz and Katz- who actually didn’t even write “1-2-3 Red Light”- were intentionally trying to promote bad, evil, wicked things in their music, but beyond the scope of “Oh, it was just the TIMES they lived in,” I’m hard pressed to see what normal, socially-conscious male could pen or even produce lyrics like the ones in that song and NOT know how foul they sounded. You ready? OK, here we go...

Composed by the songwriting team of B. and S. Trimachi (brain-damaged, ex-jock step-brothers of one of the producers K., then, or what...??), “1-2-3 Red Light” is probably the first truly conscious date-rape-themed tune (“Wake Up Little Susie” doesn’t count- Don Everly drove his pretty lil’ gal home unmolested even though he knew her daddy was waitin’ on the porch with a loaded shotgun- now THAT’S chivalry, gang!) to ever slither outta a cracked AM radio speaker. Though the music in almost every other K./K. hit was nearly identical (with a few rather hilarious side-trips, such as the “doo doo doo doo doo” refrain running through “Chewy Chewy” or the way they nicked The Crystal’s “Then He Kissed Me” in the middle of that same song, an’ by the way, don’t even get me started on ol’ Phil “Quickdraw” Spector ... yeesh), “1-2-3 Red Light” is less of a high-school loser/chump anthem and more the theme music for a growling, ravaging wolf slathering and lusting at young Lil’ Red’s rickety, fragile door.

Kicking off with an innocuous-enough sounding click-track drum beat, hand-claps, cheesy organ riffs, and almost indistinguishable guitar licks, the song soon reveals its nasty inner message, as Levine (or Gutkowski, who knows, and come on, are they even REAL at all??) grinds his way into a primal plea for the ol’ nookie: “Every time I try to prove my love you / (1-2-3 red light) / You stop me / Baby you ain’t right, to stop me / (1-2-3 red light) / Every time I make a move to love you / (1-2-3 red light) / You stop me, baby every night you stop me ... stop the game / You’ve got too much to lose / If you stop me again / That’s when we might end / So please don’t refuse ...”

Whew. At least he said “please” before he pinned her down to the summer-sweat-sticky seat of his ‘68 Ford Mustang convertible and mussed up her beehive, eh? Maybe it’s just me, like I said, but it sounds like another damn good reason why “NO MEANS NO” is a big sellin’ bumper sticker on college campuses across the U.S. of A. today, kids. Plus, I still have to wonder what kind of bad-breathed, monkey-pawed goober couldn’t get a piece in the age of Free Love anyway- what market was this song aimed at, UTAH??

And really, history has proven that there WERE more important things than base sexual urges to write, play an’ caterwaul about at the dawn of the ‘70s, hasn’t it? Ya know- VIETNAM, EQUAL RIGHTS, POVERTY, DRAFT-DODGERS, oh yea and HIPPIES!! Either way, you’ll never hear “1-2-3 Red Light” on yer local Oldies station quite the same again, willya? (but not really cuz it’s syndicated all over Amerikkka by the same bastards who own every other station on the continent an’ monopoly-DJed by Max fuckin’ Headroom these days anyway). “LOCK IT IN AN’ TEAR OFF THE KNOB!! STAY RIGHT HERE FOR THE BEST OF THE FIFTIES SIXTIES AND SEVENTIES AND SOON THE EIGHTIES TOO CUZ YOU YUPPIE SHITHEADS AIN’T GETTIN’ NO YOUNGER EITHER HALLEFUCKINLUJAH!!” Ahh...my job is done.

Awright, enuff with the ‘Fruit, I just wanna wrap this rant up with a short note about one Ron Dante, a similar bubblegummer who, despite his last name (Sorry, Ron, but I just can’t help but picturing you perfectly coifed in an all-white disco suit, gold chain tucked snugly into yer prolific chest hair, rising up outta Dante’s Inferno in a red-hot, smokey elevator from Hell that’s playin’ watered-down versions of your already too-sweet pop hits, buddy- no offense, ya know plus my tooth is killin’ me here maybe another pill will help, eh ...) wasn’t nearly as underhanded in his lyrical pursuits.

You may remember Ron as the “Voice Of The Archies,” that long-lost (the Archie comics of today are owned by a Christian, Right Wing organization who make no bones about their beliefs on paper yet continue to allow their surely underpaid artists to pen teeny-bopper chicks in outfits that would make Jessica Rabbit herself blush- go figger, eh?) comic book/TV cartoon featuring Archie hisself, Jughead, Betty, Veronica, Reggie, and the rest. They didn’t do much rockin’ in the comic version (too busy lost in endless teenage rutting behavior but at least at good ole Riverdale High, the gals were portrayed as- if not more- lusty and devious creatures as the dudes), but on TV, man, they almost gave Lennon/McCartney a run for their money ... HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! Sorry- the pill’s kickin’ in ...

Speaking of wacked out- just for shits n’ giggles, I once wrote a phony “update” on the whereabouts of The Archies in the 21st Century right here in these pages and received at least a half-dozen e-mails from concerned fans of the animated wonder band who were wondering how and where they might reach their musical heroes- I shit you not. This is how desperate some people are to hang onto the sad cartoon remnants of their wasted lives- but hey, it beats the Jebus Train and sometimes those nut jobs have cool old albums layin’ around they’ll let me borrow to record, heh heh ...

But I digress- besides the big Archies’ hit, “Sugar, Sugar” (at least these gimcrackers had the decency to title their tunes properly- some of ‘em actually made yer teeth ache upon first listen, an’ I consider myself a loonie pop/rock fan to the nth degree), Ron also co-wrote a song for Barry Manilow (the only performer insipid, non-threatening and bland enough to rise up and replace groups like The Archies and the ‘Fruit on the charts- O.K., I’ll give ya Debbie Boone but that’s no fair cuz she sang for the OTHER guy, praise be ...), was a featured voice on the soundtrack for the movie “Arthur” (what DO ya do when ya get caught between the moon an’ New York City, Ronnie? Oh please please please lemme know cuz Dudley ain’t talkin’ no mo’ an’ Chris Cross rode outta The Big Apple like the wind a decade or two ago ...), and was one of the musical producers for Disney’s “Little Mermaid” TV series. Which is nothing to sneeze at (my apologies to the dwarf in advance), considering that a super-talented songwriter/performer like Randy “Short People” Newman has made one helluva nice living offa the Dizz-lies over the past decade or so. Anyway, I’d always thought (and a goodly number of my musical compatriots did, too) that Ron had been the evil mastermind behind ALL of those songs I’ve just (sorry) reminded us all about.

Not so- in fact, compared to the insidious anti-femme jab of “1-2-3 Red Light,” the root canal-inducing, idiotic conformity of “Yummy Yummy Yummy,” and “Chewy, Chewy,” and the downright insulting Native American groove imbedded in “Indian Giver” (yes, The Sweet’s “Wig Wam Bam” was equally moronic and tasteless, but at least the wankers who wrote that particular cut from Hell’s own soundtrack were BRITISH. No excuse for Americans to continue to fuck with the Red Man into the 1960s- no wonder Brando was too pissed to attend the Oscars a few years later ... don’t laugh. YOU’RE from “The Land Of Sky Blue Water ...” Woo hoo!! Crack another cold one, cowboy!), Ron’s compositions for The Archies, as well as numerous other hits for bands like The Cufflinks and wheelbarrow loads of production work (Barry Manilow, Pat Benatar, Cher, Broadway) prove that he at least could pen a pop tune on his own and had the pipes to carry it off.

In a bizarre twist, Dante (who was all but unknown to the legions of Archies and Cufflinks fans in his heyday- and those numbers have only grown, God knows how many irritable e-mails I’ll get just for droppin’ that line about Dante’s Inferno ... I WAS JUST KIDDING, FOLKS!!) now tours and performs his own hits, as well as continuing to record and release albums. He’s a busy guy, and has done a helluva lot more behind the scenes than guys like Danny, Jordan, Joe & John (and sometimes Donny) have ever done for pop music. Check him out at rondante.com. There ya go, Mr. Sugar- I hope the free PR makes up for me thinkin’ all these years that you wrote “Yummy Yummy Yummy” which, as every sweet-toothed pop/rock fan worth a stick o’ cane knows is a far less delectable aural dessert than a genuine masterpiece like “Sugar, Sugar.” So there.

Anyway, the ‘Fruit and the Ohio Express couldn’t even really be qualified as teen idols- they never toured; never played live gigs in smoky clubs; never had to prove to a roomful of Hendrix and Grand Funk fans that they could actually play that tasty lil’ lick in the center of their own miniature folly-pops, did they? Nawwww. Still, despite their bad (and sometimes downright evil) lyrics, same-y melodies and almost assuredly un-MTV-friendly faces, I’d gladly take them and loveable oddballs like Ron Dante on the radio over the Britneys, Christinas, N’Syncs, and Back-door Boys of today- that is, if I couldn’t get my own bizarre definition (everything from the fucked-up but essentially honest cheese of The Carpenters, Bread and America to the almost-pop-parody of the Ramones, the sticky, doom-laden holocaust of Big Star and the shimmering, too-perfect skitter of most of Todd Rundgren’s early ‘70s catalog. Oh, and don’t even get me started on artists like The Jayhawks, Matthew Sweet, 12 Rods, The Magnolias and them ‘Placemat fellers...) of perfect pop/rock on the airwaves. The good news is that The Archies TV series (FIVE seasons!! Oh, Yayyy!!!) should be out on DVD anytime now, so screw the radio anyway. Time for another pill ...

That’s it for this time out, ya ‘toon-heads. Tune in again, same day, same space next week for more reviews an’ less rantin’ ... maybe. Until then- make yer own damn news.

If you have local music news/gigs/events that you’d like to see mentioned in this column, or you’d just like to share your own Saturday morning pop/rock memories (come on, Bugaloos fans!), send replies to: Tmygunn77764@yahoo.com. ||