Pretty Sound Good - The Ponytail Files, Volume 2

Hey, guys and dolls!  Here's a little trip in the Wayback Machine.  Longtime readers may recall THIS POST from (get this) two years ago, about the the lurvely Adele and her incredible voice.  Well, a really ravishing look, too, but she can saaaaaang!

Guess what, my lovelies?  She's back!  A slightly different (but still lurvely)(very lurvely) look and a new album out this year...and once again I am gobsmacked.

So I...uh, wait, where was I?  I was approaching a point here, what did I do with it?  Oh, yes, of course...MUSIC!  As I said, she has a new album out, and if anything, she sounds even better.  Click on the picture, it links to a concert performance from earlier this month.  You don't have to listen to the whole thing (30 minutes), but at least give the first song a try...mmm, mmm, that voice...pretty do sound good, so good.

Happy Friday, everyone!

It Isn't Your Face They Want to Poke, and Do You Really Want That?

Last Tuesday, I had the pleasure of  reading a great post on Dadcentric by the ever-cheeky Kevin at Always Home and Uncool*, a post on the curious phenomenon that is Lady Gaga. While I had heard of the Lady, I had never really been curious enough to check out the music. Or maybe it was that I was just too tired and busy. But after reading Always Home's (linked above) that led to the Gaga post, a gem unto itself, I had to satisfy my scientific curiosity** and check it out.

Sigh. Would that I am not so curious. "Poker Face"? Really? Oh good lord. I wouldn't say this was appalling but I had a hard time figuring out why gaga over Gaga. I'm sure she has a decent voice, and yeah there was some interesting theatrics (especially in the 'Polka Face' video)...but not much that I haven't seen before, and that maybe has been done better by others (see Tina Turner or even Madonna a la' Material Girl). I can only imagine who might be the Next Big Thang by the time my Wee Lass gets interested in tween music. In the meantime, I'll keep playing my Clash and Gogol Bordello, and getting her to sing along with me.

Ida know, maybe I'm jaded. Or tired of all the in-your-face approaches to "hotness". Maybe when I was in high school or even in college, that kind of blunt come-on was a lot more attractive. I suppose having the benefit of overcharged hormones and seemingly boundless energy would make a difference.

More likely, having no appreciation for subtlety, elegance or finesse makes the biggest difference. And when I was a younger Gumbo, those three words were rarely heard or seen in my vocabulary***. While I was watching the Poker Face (horrible title, by the way. Extends a red carpet to parody.) video, I realized that for all the bump and grind, and supposedly being "out there" or cutting edge or whatever...subtlety, elegance and finesse had fled the country. I was more bemused than attracted. Why?

"Bluffin' with my muffin" - seriously? You expect me to be attracted to that? I had the image of a big dish of honey sitting out on the porch, with no screen, and a big sign saying "GETYERHONEYNOWDAMMIT". Sorry, but doing that attracts too many flies...

The counterpoint to all this was what I have been listening to on the trusty iPod. I have a collection of the best of Billie Holiday, and no doubt she can sannng...but the real deal here, the song That Makes All The Difference, that tells you all you need to know about seduction, my friends...

"At Last" by the lovely Etta James. Oh, yes, dear readers, it's time to go to school...

 You see what I mean? Does she get all up in your grill? Use unoriginal euphemisms for the naughty bits? Of course not. She does a masterful job of interpreting the "Show, don't tell" axiom of good storytelling. Honestly, if I can said to swoon at anything, it is this song. Mmm, mmm...sing, Etta, sing...

...you other ladies****, lovely and talented as you may be, have some learning to do.

*Which I found through a link courtesy the radiant and lovely Everyday Goddess. Go, visit, pay homage. She will bless you. Or at least make you laugh.

**Plus I was suffering from post-work ennui. Ennui: a fancy-schmancy word for pathologically bored.

***Sometimes they still are, I am afraid. The difference is that I am much more aware of those qualities in others, even if I have trouble expressing them myself. I know what I was missing when I was young and dumb...and I'm not going back.
****In fairness, Beyonce does a credible turn with this song. Plus she looks damn fine in that gold dress. Sigh. Immune I am not.

Return of The Ba-Donka-Donk

As many of you may recall, I chronicled my first street encounter with 'ba-donka-donk' HERE. More precisely, my first encounter with the term outside of a television show. That has officially changed.

Ladies and gentlemen, last week, I had my first remote encounter with a real live ba-donka-donk. Right there in front of my car. It was while waiting at a stop light, a major intersection on my daily commute. It is a busy intersection, one with significant foot traffic in addition to the cars. I have seen a lot of derrieres cross the road at that intersection, fodder for idle observation whilst wasting time waiting on the light to change. Derrieres of all shapes and sizes, some very nice, some spectacular, even. I wouldn't say that any approached 'ba-donka-donk'-ness, however, at least as I am familiar with the term.

This one was different. 

It was...big, but not outrageously so.

It was...round, but not abnormally so.

It was...encased in jeans that approached the level of paint rather than fabric. It appeared to meet all the criteria for classification as a ba-donka-donk.

She, as the kids say, had it goin' on.

The road was still littered with snow and slush, the median piled with snow. This young lady was even wearing low heels, and doing a commendable job of navigating the hazards, with skill and grace and...workin' that ba-donka-donk. Wow.

To my credit, I did not start singing "Baby Got Back" by Sir-Mix-A-Lot*. Also, bumper sticker exhortations notwithstanding, I did not honk at the ba-donka-donk**. Perhaps next time, when I am not so gobsmacked by the sight of a ba-donka-donk in the wild.

I leave you now with a bonus video that never fails to make me laugh like a hyena. Turn it up loud and shout it proud:

*Who knighted him anyway? And for what?

**'I Did Not Honk At The Ba-Donka-Donk' - a hitherto unpublished story from the vaults of Dr. Seuss.

Pretty Sound Good - The Ponytail Files

I was all set: big mug o’ tea, laptop plugged in and fired up, remote in hand and the Gumbo buns parked on the couch to catch the inaugural events. Yeah, man, I was going to write this Big Important Post about how cool it was that things have changed, how Barack Obama is the President now, and what that meant for us as a nation. It was going to be GREAT.

But I found I couldn’t do it. Every time I tried to do it, I was sidetracked by the enormity of the events themselves. I was overwhelmed by Significance. This really is a pivotal moment in modern history, one that I am elated to witness. So elated, that there is nothing I could say to improve it. I had no spin, no take on it. It doesn’t need any gilding from me. I am, for the moment, left without something to say.

(thunk)(collective jaw dropping out there)

A first, I know. I’m a little disoriented by it myself.

In an effort to get myself a little more back to earth, I decided to cozy up to something a bit more earthy, and I was lucky that the Gumbo Image Files (a division of Freakflag Media©) had just the thing. Now I don’t feel so bad about clipping pictures out of the newspaper. I was flipping through my files and lo, looky at what I found! Something purty this way comes, so feast your peepers on this lovely lass:

Aaahhh….whuh….now, dammit, I know I had a point here….hold on (head between knees, taking a deep breath) WHOO! Okay! I’m back, sort of.

No, that is not a slightly curvy Audrey Hepburn (ooh, what an image that is!); that’s the most lovely Adele (after you click the link, scroll down – there is a color version of the above photo: HAWT!), a young* lass from London who has become quite the singing sensation. I first heard of her on my local tune source, WTMD, and the radio station was fortunate enough to have her stop by the studios for some vocal performances that they recorded. I have to say her voice has gotten to me the more I hear the music. She is in the same neighborhood as Joss Stone (rawr!) Sarah McLachlan (angel!) and Billie Holiday (O, summertime!). And that face in the picture?

Veered right off the path again. I was eating breakfast and reading the newspaper when I turned the page and saw it. I am not ashamed to say that the spoonful of ‘Honeybunches” or whatever that was on its way to my mouth ended up, in part, on my bathrobe. Good thing I suppose, as my jaw was sagging so much I couldn’t have kept anything in my mouth. I don’t remember for certain, but I may have actually drooled a little. Not sure. I do know that I sat and stared at that picture for a good two or three minutes before I finally woke up and turned the page.

And then I turned back to it. Three times, before I finished breakfast.

Then I looked at again. Twice. On the way to the recycle bin, at which point, I decided to cut it out of the newspaper. Can someone give me a clue as to what is wrong with me? Ida know, I keep getting gobsmacked by the wimmens. In this case, though I was in the safety and comfort of my own home, so I was in no danger of falling into a ravine or running into a tree. I did trip over the cat, though. Of course, when you combine looks with a good singing voice, it might as well be like this:


That’s me, the besotted chap there in the water. Hopefully, I’ll never end up wrecking a ship because I heeded the Sirens’ call (and I certainly don’t want to get eaten by a bird woman!), but I sure do like to look and listen. It’s distracting in a really, really good way.

Speaking of distractions, what are those people doing down on the Mall in Washington, D.C.? And who’s the dude with his hand in the air doing all that swearing?

*Young as in 20 years old. Can you believe that? Me neither. And no, I’m not a dirty old man. It’s just…purtyness, I can’t seem to escape it.

Siren image courtesy of Wikipedia

Goddess Belly: On Your Knees, Boy!

“I don’t write songs about girls anymore,
I have to write songs about women”

-“I’m An Adult Now” by The Pursuit of Happiness

It is fair to say that I have always been flummoxed by women, ever since I was a little gumbo many years ago. More precisely, flummoxed by females, since some of the people layin’ the flummox on me were girls. I am reasonably certain that this sort of flummoxing has been happening to other males ever since, well, since there have been ‘pointers and setters’. I got to ruminating (oh, no, not again..) on this the other day as I contemplated the ‘Venus of Willendorf’ (henceforth known as VOW) in the middle of a daydream about a girlfriend from long ago. She looks like this (VOW, not the girlfriend):

Please, take a moment to ponder. (hums ‘Baby Got Back’…) Weird and cool, no? There are a lot of theories about what the statue represents, like fertility goddess, a toy or even prehistoric pornography! The one thread that really caught my attention is the notion that it represents a goddess, worshipped by males; something to do with the ‘mystery’ embodied by the female, in the mind of the prehistoric male. Although some would say “Is there really a difference in the modern man?”

No argument from me on that one! The ladies have always been mysterious to me, have always had a sway over me that I couldn’t explain. At first I wasn’t aware I was being ‘hyp-no-tised!’, I just knew that in the presence of females in general and some females in particular that I wanted to be around them. As a kid, there were three cousins in particular that could get me all flustered. I’ll call them MJ/S/D for short. They were all older than me, and at family get-togethers I remember thinking they were the prettiest ladies I had ever seen. And to me they still are, although MJ sadly enough, passed away a few years back. (I really miss her big laugh). Plus, this was roughly the same time that Charlie’s Angels was on the tube, and I had some serious crushes on Kate Jackson and Jaclyn Smith (oddly, Farrah Fawcett?...meh):

My cousins had a bit of the Kate/Jaclyn vibe going on. That sort of thing, at the time, had the power to make me get real confused and quiet. And I had no clue back then just how dumbstruck I really was. When it came to the ridiculous, Neanderthal antics many of my male teenage peers engaged in to attract the ladies, I was outclassed. I could barely compete. I liked the females too much as people, was too shy, couldn’t bring myself to do it. As my general lack of steady girlfriends would confirm. It occurred to me much later that a lot of those guys were acting like typical alpha-male knuckleheads because they were probably either 1) not very self-aware or 2) were even more frightened than I was at the power girls held over us lads.

“She’ll pull it out on the river – she’s gussied up like sin,
You got jack all squat – you you’re a violin
And you’re gonna get played…”

-“The Fix Is On” by Peter Mulvey

So you probably see where this was going to go. This problem, if I could call it that, persists until this very day. From the females who knew me as a kid, to my first girlfriend G. in junior high and my last girlfriend S. before I went to college, to the short flings in college before I met the woman who went from girlfriend to fiancé to The Spouse, and even now with my beautiful Wee Lass: I am a violin, I have been played. Truth be known, now it doesn’t bother me as much. I slowly became aware of this tendency in college and I learned how to work around it. I figured out something, I guess. I managed to get married and eventually fathered three kids!

But I never really figured out how to defuse the reflex. It gets me every now and then. Case in point, the video for Mysterious Ways by U2: it has a belly dancer. A really, really nice belly dancer. When the video first came out, I would see it and DING! Stop, drop and slack-jawed. Every single damn time. I hadn’t seen it in years until just the other day as I was goofing around on YouTube, I stumbled across it: deer meets headlights, around minutes 2 and 3:



As Bono explains:

“…Let her talk about the things you can't explain.
To touch is to heal, to hurt is to steal.
If you want to kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel
On your knees, boy!”

Goddess, I already am.