It’s still hot here, and now it’s sticky, too, thanks to humidity coming up from the south. (Weather people on the news call it “monsoon moisture,” but I think that’s only because none of them have ever been in a real monsoon.) Regardless, I feel gross. And my bug bites are itching. I think I’ll have a tuna-salmon sandwich for dinner because I don’t want to cook anything (one can of tuna and one can of salmon prepared however you like your tuna sammies). And maybe some ice cream for dessert.
I’ve always felt like this song was one of the hidden gems of Van Halen’s catalog. A cover of a tune by blues man, John Brim, the band acquits itself nicely here. (I actually think the typical Eddie-style guitar solo/explosion is unnecessary; they were workin’ it pretty damn good with the acoustic.) They sound like they’re having fun, something Van Halen stopped doing many years ago (shortly after 5150, came out, I think). It’s a double entendre filled little ditty that sounds a little bit like today feels. Kind of sticky, but still okay. I know I was a little complainy earlier, because it’s really not that bad.
But I still might turn on the AC, just to make it a little easier to get some sleep tonight.
I hate to do another repost so soon, but it’s the most appropriate song I can think of right now. I just checked the weather on the computer, and it’s still 90 degrees in my area–at not quite 6:30 PM. Cripes, I can’t wait for the sun to go down.
One of the nice things about living in SoCal is that no matter how hot it is during the day, it gets a little more pleasant as soon as the sun goes down. Now the sun has just disappeared behind the houses around me and nice sea breeze is coming up. Of course, I still feel all hot and icky (cleaning litter boxes is more strenuous than it ought to be when one of the cats insists on digging all the way to the bottom). It was hot here today; the local weather had the Long Beach area in the 90s. I know we’re a lot better off than other people, but I get unhappy if the thermometer goes above 78 degrees. (Hey, anyone know how to make the little circle indicating temperature?)
Hence, I’ve got The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Summer in the City” stuck in my head. Sure, I could’ve gone with Martha & the Vandellas’ “Heat Wave,” but that’s a love song disguised as a complaint about the weather. “Summer in the City” really is about the weather. I don’t know much about the history, but I can just imagine John Sebastian sitting in his sweltering little walk-up in NYC, praying that an ice truck would fall through the ceiling, fanning himself with yesterday’s newspaper, when the inspiration for this hit. Or maybe he was sitting on the fire escape planning what he was going to play at that night’s gig. However it happened, it’s such a concise depiction of what a hot summer in a crowded place is like. One thing for sure, that Hammond B-3 is seriously hot.
Just a little sidebar, John Sebastian is one of the few people who looks exactly the way he sounds. He used to have a syndicated radio show I listened to in the late 80s–played blues, folk, and other assorted cool stuff–and his voice put the image of a guy with mousy brown hair and glasses into my head.
I’m not quite living in hell; I think that’s being reserved for people in the desert. But I live next door.
I’ve never really liked this song, but I admire David Johansen for being such a chameleon. I can’t imagine anyone else going from the New York Dolls to Buster Poindexter and back again, with stops pretty much everywhere in between.
That’s all I’ve got; my brain is a little melted tonight (I made the mistake of walking home after some afternoon errands). Expect the heat to be a theme this weekend.
It promises to be raining off and on all weekend here in SoCal, and my internet connection gets a little fussy when it’s even a little stormy. So if I don’t post, I’m okay. I’m just stuck here with out my world wide web fix.
This was Supertramp’s last hit. It’s a sweet little tune. I always liked the fade out, with the children singing “It’s raining, it’s pouring. . . ” Of course, they don’t finish that little rhyme. Just as well; it’s not very happy.
Here’s hoping nobody bumps their head this weekend.