Musical Notes

Ephemeral effluent oozes from the temporal lobe of my cerebral cortex. Over the years, sensory neurons formed a continuum of long-term potentiation. Neurological pedantry aside, the ensuing exudation elucidates some music trivia.

Most people know Richard Wagner's iconic "Ride of the Valkyries" from the operatic cycle, Der Rings Des Nibelungen. Fewer know the song, "Here Comes the Bride", is the "Bridal Chorus" from his opera, Lohengrin.

Many theories exist about the etymology of the word jazz. The word came from the jasmine perfume worn by working girls in New Orleans' brothels, from the French word for chatter, jazer, from the African/Creole, jaz, meaning to speed-up, from the J.S., one of the first riverboats to feature jazz.

According to the generally accepted theory, jazz was borrowed from baseball. In the early 20th century, sportswriters used the term to express vim or vigor. The hitter had some jazz on his bat; the pitcher's fast ball showed some extra jazz. That origin is compelling as baseball and jazz are two uniquely American institutions.

High school pals, Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman, formed 60's pop group, The Turtles. After that band broke up, they joined Frank Zappa's Mothers of Invention. Contractual restrictions not only forbade them from using their former band's name, but from using their actual names. Enter the Phlorescent Leech (Howard Kaylan, later shortened to Flo) and Eddie (Mark Volman).

In addition to working with Zappa, Flo & Eddie lent their harmonies to performers as divergent as T Rex, David Cassidy and the Ramones. They also created the music for the children cartoons Strawberry Shortcake and Care Bears.

Pedal steel guitar player, Sneaky Pete Kleinow, anchored the sound of seminal country rock band, The Flying Burrito Brothers. He played with the Rolling Stones, Joni Mitchell and countless others. Kleinow was also a special effects artist. Specializing in stop motion animation he lent his talents to TV shows like Gumby, The Outer Limits and David & Goliath. His motion picture work included The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao starring Tony Randall.

Hopefully the release of this data will prevent the information in my gray matter from reaching critical mass. as ever - BB

"I've got the brain of a four year old. I'll bet he was glad to be rid of it." - Groucho Marx

Gimme a Shot Out Of The Blue Bottle

That's diner-speak for Bromo Seltzer. Adam & Eve on a raft - wreck 'em, Noah''s boy on bread, walk a cow through the garden and pin a rose on it. These evocative phrases epitomize the golden age of diners

(For those less fluent in diner-speak: two scrambled eggs on toast, a ham sandwich and a hamburger with lettuce, tomato and onion.)

Diners evolved from 19th century, horse-drawn lunch carts. In the early 20th century, entrepreneurs bought discarded railroad dining cars, set them down on an undeveloped parcel of land and started serving up the kitchen sweepings (a plate of hash).

As a kid, Sunday morning after mass, the family would end up at one of the local diners. The Diamond Diner (originally the Grove Street Diner), the Collmont, the Oaklyn Diner, Ponzio's were all within three miles of our house. Once I had a driver's license, I could expand my diner dalliance to Olga's, the Brooklawn and the Melrose (Everybody who knows goes to Melrose).

Open 24-hours, diners provide sanctuary and a hot meal any time of day. I would sit nursing my cup of hi-test (black coffee), picking at Eve with a lid on it (apple pie), or cackle fruit with pigs (eggs and bacon) waiting for sunrise.

Alone in a booth reading the ubiquitous newspaper, I felt like a figure in Edward Hopper's Nighthawks. Instead of loneliness, or melancholy, I felt security and warmth. I'd people watch for hours on end fabricating situations and back-stories for those I observed.

As the man said in the old news reels, time marches on...but the diner remains. I'm heading down to my local eatery to get a heart attack on rack (biscuits & gravy). As ever - BB

"In a restaurant one is both observed and unobserved. Joy and sorrow can be displayed and observed "unwittingly," the writer scowling naively and the diners wondering, "What the hell is he doing?" " - David Mamet

"We're Goin' Hoppin"

October 7 has double significance for American Bandstand. The show, with local dancers, first aired in Philadelphia today in 1952. (It began in September with film clips, interviews and no dancers.) Five years later, October 7, 1957, Bandstand aired prime time on Monday nights. This lasted only two months.

Originally a local show, Bob Horn's Bandstand, in August 1957 it went national. The name changed to American Bandstand. By then, the host was Dick Clark. In 1964, American Bandstand moved to Los Angeles losing its Philly panache.

Bandstand was just one of the Philly dance shows during that era. "Sunshine on the Pier" from Steel Pier in Atlantic City with Ed Hurst, the Geator with the Heator, Jerry Blavat's "Discophonic Scene" and Ron Joseph's "TV Dance Party" all competed for the Delaware Valley's youth.

Each of these began on radio. Along with Hurst and The Geator, Philly's airways grooved to Joe Niagara, aka The Rockin' Bird, and Hy Lit. Through my pocket-sized AM radio, they introduced me to rockers like Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent, the Detroit soul of Motown and the Memphis beat of Stax.

By the time I reached my teens, FM radio was changing the market. Psychedelia was blossoming. The original Electric Factory had opened in an old tire warehouse at 22nd & Arch and the underground newspaper, The Distant Drummer was published. In 1968, Sun-Ra moved his Arkestra to the Germantown section of Philadelphia.

Things were never the same, but I thank those DJs for applying my rich, musical base coat. As ever - BB

"We're going hoppin'/We're goin' hoppin' today/Where things are poppin'/The Philadelphia way..." - lyrics to Bandstand Boogie - written in the 50s as a big-band instrumental; Barry Manilow penned the lyrics in 1975.