March 11, 2003

OUTLANDOS D'AMOUR

It was a Sunday morning. I was 13.



I remember because I was listening to Casey Kasem on American Top 40 and they always broadcast that show on Sunday mornings. I'd go into church at the Cathedral of St. Jude in St. Petersburg for the 9:30 a.m. youth mass when the countdown was in the mid 30s and I'd rush out of the church an hour later and rush home in hopes of hearing what the top 10 songs of the week were.

I was inflamed by music in 1979. Not good music. Just any kind of pop song I could hear. I had a stack of 45 records that my aunt had given me from the jukebox at her lounge and I carried them in a green, twist-top carrying case. I decorated the outside of the case with Baltimore Orioles stickers. I carried it on trips and to sleep overs and just about anywhere I could.

Anyway, it was Sunday and I was in my bedroom at home and I was laying across my bed with my headphones on, so my parents didn't have to hear the noise from my stereo speakers.

I had gotten home in time to hear the meat of the countdown. By the time I turned on my stereo, the show was in the low 20s when I heard the introduction by Kasem.

I don't remember the intro verbatim, but I do remember him giving some background about the next band he was going to play. About how this was their first hit. That they played a mix of reggae and punk. That all the band members dyed their hair blond for a chewing gum commercial in the U.K.

And then after he said the name of the song and the name of the band, there was a short, very pregnant pause, which struck me as weird, because he'd walk all over the first minute of a song with his words. This intro stopped. There was silence. And then the coolest song I ever heard came out of my headphones and gave me chills.

I had heard the song a week earlier on Q105 after school on the white enamel clock radio on my nightstand. The DJ who introduced it then did the same thing. He gave the name of the song, then the name of the band, explained it was going to be a little different kind of song and then played it.

When I realized that the weird little song had made it all the way to No. 21, I remember getting a strange little grin on my face. The song was beyond different, especially when compared to the disco and California pop that topped the charts back then.

It sounded like nothing I had ever heard. I felt cool by association, like I had better taste than everyone who was rollerskating in Gloria Vanderbilts to Rita Cooledge and drooling over their doe-eyed Linda Rondstadt poster.

I didn't want that song to end.

I don't remember how long it took me to get the album, but I got it and devoured it. And all the albums that came after it.

Their early songs had an infectious energy to them. As their career progressed, their music became more complex. The lyrics were brilliant, the music meshed so powerfully and the production quality on each record kept topping itself.

I saw them in concert several times. I bought everything I could with their faces on it.

The lyrics became intellectually stimulating. One album was based on a novel that explored man's relationship with machines, so I read that book. The next album explored the theory that everything in the universe is connected in some way and that all things conscious and unconscious - as well as the collective unconscious of our ancestors - had relevance within our minds.

Remember, this was rock 'n' roll.

Sure. The same way a Stradavarius is a fiddle.

When they broke up, I was disappointed. But I couldn't honestly think of a way they could have squeezed more out of their collaboration.

Tonight the band that changed how I viewed music and writing is being inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City, half an island and light years away from where they debuted at CBGBs.

On this night, I give thanks by sharing the lyrics to the song I heard 25 years ago.



Roxanne

You don't have to put on the red light

Those days are over

You don't have to sell your body to the night



Roxanne

You don't have to wear that dress tonight

Walk the streets for money

You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right





Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light

Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light

Put on the red light, put on the red light

Put on the red light, put on the red light

Put on the red light, oh



I loved you since I knew ya

I wouldn't talk down to ya

I have to tell you just how I feel

I won't share you with another boy

I know my mind is made up

So put away your makeup

Told you once, I won't tell you again, it's a bad way



Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light

Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light

You don't have to put on the red light

Put on the red light, put on the red light



Posted by Jeff at March 11, 2003 12:03 AM | TrackBack
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