That's It, Just One Line: The Man Who Sold the World

 "We passed upon the stairs, we spoke of was and when." 

The Fifth Beatle(s): The Quarrymen

Music's big bang, July 6, 1957. Look at those little squirts. RIP Len.

John Lennon formed the skiffle group The Quarrymen with classmates from Quarry Bank High School in 1956 when he was barely 16 years old. 

Eric Griffiths, Pete Shotton, and Bill Smith were founding members along with Lennon; according to Wikipedia, Smith's tenure in the band was extremely short, and he was replaced in quick succession by Nigel Walley, Ivan Vaughan, and Len Garry throughout late 1956 and early 1957. Also during this period, drummer Colin Hanton and banjo player Rod Davis joined. 

The group (I read somewhere that calling them a band was not done in the 50s) practiced in the Shotton family's air-raid shelter and hung out at Julia Lennon's house, listening to rock-and-roll records. They entered a talent contest and lost to a skiffle group from Wales, missing their chance to be on England's version of Star Search. 

Ivan introduced John to Paul at the St. Peter's Church picnic, and the rest, they say, is history. 

Colin, Rod, and Len had been performing together around the world for Beatles/skiffle fans; whether or not Colin and Rod continue is to be determined, as Len recently passed, on March 3. 

With the release of the Anthology Vol. 1, The Quarrymen have two recordings to their credit: That'll Be the Day and In Spite of All the Danger, which is on my 2024 Beatles list at #24. 

From wiki:

Current members

Colin Hanton – drums (1956–1958, 1997–present)
Rod Davis – banjo (1957); guitar, vocals (1994–1995, 1997–present)

Former members

Eric Griffiths – guitar (1956–1958, 1997–2005; died 2005)
Pete Shotton – washboard, tea-chest bass (1956–1957, 1997–2000; died 2017); 

Bill Smith – tea-chest bass (1956)
Nigel Walley – tea-chest bass (1956); manager (1956–1958)
Ivan Vaughan – tea-chest bass (1956–1957; died 1993)
John Duff Lowe – piano, keyboards, vocals (1958, 1994–1995, 2005–2017; died 2024)
Ken Brown – guitar (1959–1960; died 2010)

Chas Newby – bass guitar (1960; 2016–2023; died 2023). 

Len Garry – tea-chest bass (1957–1958); vocals, guitar (1997–2026, died 2026)

Quarrymen who continued on as Johnny and the Moondogs, The Silver Beetles, The Beatles 

Stu Sutcliffe - bass guitar (1960-1961; died 1962)

John Lennon - guitar (1957 - 1970; died 1980) 

Paul McCartney - guitar, bass (1957 - 1970)

George Harrison - guitar (1958 - 1970; died 2001)

Interesting to note that while Pete Best and Ringo Starr are Beatles, neither were a Quarrymen. 

Lipstick on the Mic: Shirley Manson and Garbage

Scottish Idol

There are just some women who scream "rock star" even if they were brushing their teeth or, I don't know, baking cookies. 

Shirley Manson would be a rock star at walking her dog. Clipping coupons. Washing the car. 

Thankfully, she chose to be an actual rock star as a profession. 

She got her start in the rock band Goodbye Mr Mackenzie, then Angelfish, which achieved regional fame in the UK. She joined the Wisconsin-based band Garbage in 1994, and riding the alt-rock label, they exploded on the scene with the hit I'm Only Happy When It Rains, followed by Stupid Girl. A string of hits followed, including high-profile soundtrack songs for Romeo + Juliet and the James Bond theme, The World is Not Enough. 

Success continued into the 2000s, with the albums Beautiful Garbage, Bleed Like Me, and Not Your Kind of People. They were a sensational opening act for U2 on the Elevation tour. 

In one of the Best Concerts We Ever Saw, Garbage played the Hard Rock Cafe in 2005. The band was loose, banter with the crowd was engaging, and then... one of their fan club fans piped up and said, "Shirley, I'm here!" to which Shirley unleashed a barrage of excited curse words. The fan had just been diagnosed with cancer, and had asked Shirley if she came to the show, would she shave her head before she started chemo? 

Shirley dragged her up, sat her in a chair, and asked her what she wanted to hear. So she sang "Milk" to this young woman while dragging a set of clippers across her skull, and when done, autographed her head and kissed her. 

It doesn't get more rock star than that.

YA Book Club: Debutante Hill

 

Old school class drama from the 50s

I have some really old books in my collection. This is from 1958, and could be had for 45 cents! 

Lynn is a pretty, popular, and wealthy teen who lives on The Hill, where the most affluent families in Rivertown reside. The plot revolves around Mrs. Peterson, who, to elevate her daughter Brenda's social standing and "liven things up," proposes bringing back debutante balls and allowing the daughters from prestigious families to come out.  

Lynn's father, a successful doctor who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, declines the invite on Lynn's behalf, much to his daughter's shock and horror. 

Ostracized from doing what her friends are doing - exclusive dances, parties, dinners, and social events - Lynn learns of the class divide among her friends and the wider circle of students at her school. She is a have who learns from the have-nots. She makes friends outside her clique and learns a little about social justice. 

It was fascinating to me, this idea of being a debutante; I grew up a middle-class midwesterner in a small-to-mid-sized city. It was a big deal to go to prom; a cotillion was a completely foreign concept. Yet I do recall shopping for prom dresses and the ladies at Jacobson's wanting to know exactly what events I would be attending to ensure there would be no faux pas of a girl showing up in the same gown. 

I bought my gown at Maurices at the mall instead. And Cheri, a girl from the junior class, showed up in the same dress. It was not a big deal. 

Since then, I learned that in larger cities with old-money families, this is quite the to-do. When I moved to St. Louis, I discovered it was common for well-connected young ladies such as my co-worker Judith to be presented in more than one city, say STL in the spring, and Cleveland - Cleveland! - in the fall. Memory escapes me, but one woman I worked with in the archdiocese debuted in STL, Kansas City, AND Baton Rouge, all connected to her sorority's formal schedule. Alpha Kappa Alpha, if I recall...

Anyway, back to Lynn. Mrs. Peterson fights publicly with Lynn's father, and one of the most elaborate parties was a benefit for the hospital where he was chief of staff. 

Says Dad: Thanks for the coin, but we aren't coming. 

Lynn's boyfriend Paul, one of the high-profile young men in town and home from college for Christmas, is swept up in party invitations, and she doesn't see him at all over the break. 

I have to call out pious dad for this one: he holds Lynn to this standard, but allows her older brother Ernie, who is best friend Nancy's boyfriend, to escort Nancy to all the parties. Lynn isn't allowed to participate, but her brother can? Double standard! 

Anyway, Paul is recruited to escort Brenda to all the parties. Lynn, who had befriended Anne, a poor girl in school, accepts a date from her brother Dirk, a hood rat with some suspicious friends.

Chaos ensues. 

Boyfriend breaks up with her over the new friendship with Dirk.

Best friend Nancy calls Lynn out for being a snob of another kind, unwilling to be friends because they aren't running in the same circles anymore. 

Why can't we all get along? 

Because Brenda leaves the money from the benefit in her pocketbook and leaves the pocketbook in the front seat of her car, at school, unlocked, like a dumbass.

She blames Dirk for the theft. This leads to his expulsion from school when the pocketbook is found in his partially open gym bag. 

Dirk maintains his innocence. 

Dirk leaves school, and Lynn is ostracized from the elite social circle, as Brenda can't stop talking about the theft and her suspicions about the two of them. 

Paul, being a nobleman home on spring break, talks to Lynn about it, and she says nay - Dirk wouldn't do that. Brenda can't stop her smear campaign.  But what about the other guy, says Lynn, donning her Nancy Drew persona.  

Let us TCB, says Dirk, I think he did it to me.

Turns out the dropout creep Dirk knew from working on cars was a petty criminal. He was doing shady stuff behind the school, and when he saw the pocketbook, opportunity knocked. So did Dirk and Paul, who found a slew of purses and jewels at the dropout's apartment and - fist, meet face - the cops are called. 

Money recovered, reputations restored, Dirk back in school, vindicated. 

But the ball must go on. 

Paul is restored to boo status, and plans to tell Brenda to go it alone to the Big Dance. 

Brenda trumps them and says eff that, this is my mom's BS, I didn't want to do this anyway, I just wanted to be friends with y'all. 

Lynn says THIS WAS ALL FOR YOU, you have to see this to the end, put on those pearls. 

Lil' sis says nah bish, you need a dressing down first - you hung my sis out to dry because you were getting attention and tried to take her man. 

Brenda: Wha' - I thought you were over. 

Lil sis: Who told you that - YOUR MOM? 

Lynn - just go, lonely Brenda, be a queen, deal with mom later. 

Younger sis - Dody, I think - you're just going to let that go? Eff that. 

Dody and friends call BS on the whole fiasco and collectively say: none of us wants this next year; bring back the sock hops and making out at the drive-in. Timeline-wise, Dody and pals would be the ones burning their bras in the mid-60s. 

The end.

Raised on Country Sunshine: Big Girls, Big Voices

Dolly Parton deserves her likeness on holiday beverage napkins

One of the things I do respect about country music is the high profile of its female stars. While there is a level of misogyny prevalent in most genres, the ladies of country music are not afraid. They will to call out wrongdoing, love out loud, and let you hear the news: 

Dolly Parton, Jolene

Gretchen Wilson, Redneck Woman

Wanda Jackson, Funnel of Love

The Chicks, Goodbye Earl

Taylor Swift, Lover

Tracy Chapman, Fast Car 

Jeannie Riley, Harper Valley PTA 

Loretta Lynn, Don't Come Home a'Drinkin with Lovin' on Your Mind 

Kacey Musgraves, Biscuits 

Carrie Underwood, Before He Cheats 

Typing Out Loud: Oy Vey

The real champions

I try to keep my commentary on this blog PG, but...

Jesus fucking Christ.

Okay. So USA Women's Hockey won the gold medal at the Olympic Games last week. They have been dominant in the sport since it was introduced to the Games in 1998. This includes winning three gold medals in that short span of time. 

Well, the men won too, for the first time in 46 years, since the Miracle on Ice back in 1980. It was a crazy, intense win over Canada, an NHL All-Star team vs. an All-Star team that went into overtime with one guy playing with a broken tooth, blood everywhere.

It was awesome. For a while, anyway. 

Locker room celebration with the head of the FBI chugging beers like a frat bro. The president calls to congratulate them and invites them to the White House for a celebration. 

Cheers. 

Then he cracks a joke that he guesses he hasta invite the girls too, or else he'd get impeached. 

One player joyfully shouts, "Absolutely!" while another chimes in, "Two for two!"

The rest groan and laugh at having to share space with the girls. 

Oh, fuck you. Fuck all of you - except those two that spoke up but were drowned out. 

I've heard this my whole life. I wasn't surprised, just disappointed. Again. 

Backlash was swift, but the boys in the clubhouse didn't want to budge on it. 

This is the "make me a sandwich" crowd, defending it as "just" locker room talk. 

This is the pick-me apologists giving the benefit of the doubt to men. Again. 

This is the bros arguing that people don't care about women's sports, and that more people watched the marquee gold medal men's hockey game.

This is dismissing female athletes, as "Men would kick the girls' asses head to head!"

This is the dudes in MAGA hats wondering why the liberals are making it political. 

This is the boys being boys, of course, leading a "USA!" chant while wearing their medals at a freaking strip club.

Then there's the player who attempts to dismiss this uproar as "almost nothing," a quote that, in and of itself, is telling. He knows, deep down, it's something. 

That's It, Just One Line: Another Brick in the Wall

 "We don't need no education."

The Fifth Beatle: The Muses, Phase Two

Phase two, fan fun in Photoshop, L-R: Olivia, Linda, Yoko, Barbara

Yoko

Ooh, the polarizing figure. She sang backup on The White Album, providing the childlike voice in Bungalow Bill. She is hated by Beatles fans for her contribution to "the breakup," although signs were already evident that they were headed in that direction anyway. Paul dismisses the idea of her interference while sitting on an amp, eating chicken, and darning socks. Alas, the allegations of drug abuse didn't help. 

But she has had to put up with fans' shit as a Beatle widow for 46 years, all while continuing to extend John's legacy. If it weren't for her, there wouldn't be the John who healed in the 70s from his traumatic childhood. No Milk and Honey album or Imagine documentary in the 80s. No Anthology in the 90s. No Now and Then in the 20s. 

Linda

Talk about a break from English tradition: Linda was an American divorcee with a child and a career as a photographer. Initially, I don't think she was as interested in him as he was in her, as she was hanging out with the Stones when they first met at the Bag O' Nails nightclub. She came from wealth, so she knew about the trappings of elite social circles and wanted a simple life with lots of kids. She was a hugger and friendly towards the band and Yoko. Watching Get Back documentary, she was refreshing and a comfort. She is my favorite Beatle wife.

She was also Paul's emotional support during the breakup of the Beatles and for the duration of their marriage, see Maybe I'm Amazed. She played keyboards in Wings, and kept up her photography while publishing books and raising children. A vegetarian, she also wrote cookbooks and produced a line of ready-made meals. A cruel twist of fate, she died of breast cancer, as Paul's mother had. C'mon God. 

My brain just compared Maybe I'm Amazed to Here, There and Everywhere, and I got woozy for a moment. There is no contest, they are peak Macca.  

Olivia

How does Olivia, who entered the party late, factor into this? I could end this with her cracking a lamp over the head of an intruder who dared to stab George in the middle of the night. However, it's so much more; without her vote, nothing would have happened after 2001. That includes the Cirque de Soliel Love show in Las Vegas, any of the remasters (including bringing Long Long Long back to life in 2009), a lovely book of poetry, and the last single, Now and Then.

Barbara

Ringo's Bond Girl and Cavewoman, she saved him from self-destruction through alcohol in the 80s, which led to his transformation as Mr. Conductor on Thomas the Tank Engine and the formation of the All-Star Band. 

Love to Nancy, but you arrived at the party a little late; I did, however, change the date of the Fifth Beatle posts to the 14th this year in honor of Paul's song to you, My Valentine.

...I've got nothing to say about Heather Mills. 

Lipstick on the Mic: The Go-Gos

Rock at any age.

When I was 12 or 13, I had a friend group where individuals claimed one member of Def Leppard as our mythical rock star boyfriend. Mine was Steve Clark. 

Why on earth weren't we aspiring for more? Why hang with the band when you could be the band? The Go-Go's had hit it big right around the same time; why weren't we picking our favorite member - Gina Schock - and emulating them to create our own pop-punk bands? 

If there was sexism at play, it was at our own hands. My husband, a Belinda Carlisle fan, would have been keen to be the super-boyfriend of a tribute-act rock star. 

They are Rock and Roll Hall of Famers, are an intimate part of the family tree that is the sisterhood in music, and still tour when the inspiration hits. 

I still want to be Gina. 

Essential tracks: Vacation, Head Over Heels, Turn to You, Lust to Love, This Town, Cool Jerk. 

YA Book Club: Dear Bill, Do You Remember Me?

I do love a good short story. I appreciate the challenge it poses to create a complete, complex character based on one moment in time. 

In this collection, Norma Fox Mazer creates women ages 13-18 and in one case, the journey of a young girl in Poland who forges a new life for herself as a teen, then adult in New York City. 

What's special about these women is the complex characters created in just a few pages: 

Louise, an 18-year-old accepting her fate as terminal cancer ravages her body and memory, while those around her avoid answering questions. 

Jessie, through a series of diary entries, chronicles her contentious first relationship and the steps she takes to find her own voice. 

Zoe, celebrating her 14th birthday and trying to break free of the watchful eye of her mother, aunt, and grandmother. 

Marylee, dealing with her parents' marriage breaking up and setting boundaries with a demanding boyfriend of her own. 

Kathy, attempting to write a letter to Bill, her sister's old boyfriend and her first crush. 

These characters are more complex than the typical romance novel protagonists; they are fully-fleshed out individuals with unusual home lives, often lower to middle class, not living out a fantasy of unlimited resources and wardrobes, flawless skin, winning the popularity contest. 

Raised on Country Sunshine: The Big Guns

From the Ryman to the Opry

Will had an audition in Nashville for drum corps, so Dave and I took advantage of a weekend away to explore. When he asked me what I wanted to do, I only had one answer: attend the live WSM broadcast of the Grand Ole Opry on Saturday night. Why? I'm not much of a country music fan, but I respect the history. The date we were going was after the 100th anniversary show, which meant we would be in attendance as the Opry kicked off its second century of existence. 

What we got was a show that mixed old and new, as a couple of kids made their Opry debut and one of the oldest, most renowned bluegrass bands returned, with grandpa, dad, and son all playing. Oh, and the guy who wrote The Gambler was there to tell the story and play it. June and Johnny Cash's kid was there with his wife to do a Christmas song, and let's do mom and dad's song "Jackson" for the hell of it. 

So that got me on a kick to start listing what I think are the best country songs out there. Then I ran into a snag. I don't know much about country music, and the genre blurs lines: is it country or country and western? Or is it gospel? Folk? Country rock? Bluegrass? Western swing? Rolling Stone, in its countdown of the greatest country songs ever (which was a guide to help me pick my own), says of country music, "...another reminder that genres are largely arbitrary concepts." 

If you know, you know. And if you don't, you just feel it in your heart and ask for forgiveness instead of permission. 

I'm not going to saddle myself with numbers, since in this case, while I have some solid favorites, a one is as good as a five. And when I was worried about getting a hundred, I shot right past that number. And if I limit myself to 100 this year, while I listen to Willie's Roadhouse and ponder, I can easily come up with many more as my memory is jogged. 

So here's the big guns, the ones I will drop everything to belt along with the rest of y'all: 

Dottie West, Country Sunshine

Bobby Bare, Daddy What If

Donna Fargo, Happiest Girl in the Whole USA

Olivia Newton-John, Let Me Be There 

John Denver, Calypso 

Bobbie Gentry, Ode to Billy Joe 

Patsy Cline, Crazy 

Johnny Cash, Ring of Fire 

Marty Robbins, El Paso 

Willie Nelson, Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground 

Jo-El Sonnier, Jambalaya

That's It, Just One Line: Lust for Life

"I'm worth a million in prizes."

I missed this, so I brought it back. 

The Fifth Beatle: The Muses, Phase One

Fan clip art, L-R: Mo, Pattie, Cynthia, Jane

I had made a New Year's resolution to not post about The Beatles in 2025; I will have to look back and see how I did (four passing references but no posts!) But a whole year without The Beatles? Perish the thought! 

While they were often referred to as the "four-headed beast" by their contemporaries, they would be nothing without the support of the many people who can lay claim to being the Fifth Beatle. 

First up are, for better or worse, the muses who were their emotional support and compelled them to write and sing: 

Cynthia, Pattie, Maureen, and Jane with their men

Cynthia

A friend of John's is quoted as saying, "Cynthia was beautiful, physically, and on the inside. Although she knew he was apt to find love on the road, she was totally dedicated to his success... and extremely influential. He was insecure, and Cynthia was there to pump him up, to buttress, sort of, his weak side."  

She was a nurturing presence, both at art college and with the band; John desperately loved her, pursuing, serenading, and ultimately marrying her. How unfortunate was Aunt Mimi's treatment of her, and how badly she was abused by the fans. John's neglect was heartbreaking, and Cyn deserved better than to be the inspiration for the confessional Norwegian Wood; she earned his devotion on those early love songs, both the remakes and the ones penned by him and Paul. I acknowledge he is a complex and flawed human being, but his harsh treatment of her prevents him from ever being my favorite Beatle. 

Jane

Pretty red-headed Jane Asher was the inspiration behind And I Love Her, We Can Work It Out, For No One, and my favorite, Here There and Everywhere. They couldn't work it out and broke their engagement in 1968. What happened? Diverging careers, diverging interests, Jane's concern over Paul's increasing drug use, and Paul's continued infidelities.

To her credit, Jane never wrote a sleazy tell-all book. She went on to have a happily ever after in her personal and private life, with a long career in British TV and film. Her brother Peter is still great friends with Paul and is a DJ on Sirius/XM. 

Pattie

Pattie Boyd inspired many of George's love songs, like I Need You, If I Needed Someone, and Something. And that was just George. Her story continues with post-divorce dalliances with Ronnie Wood and Eric Clapton. And it's a family affair, as her sister was married to Mick Fleetwood for a time. George should have treated her better, but he was a surprising gentleman when the press hounded them about babies and shielded Pattie by not sharing the news of her infertility. 

I cannot believe there are still fans spewing vitriol against her, thinking she should have put up and shut up; then again, these types of fans were pissed she married him in the first place. You didn't have a shot, drab Ruth from Sussex. 

Maureen

She was an early fan and started dating "her Ritchie" before they were famous, taking the brunt of abuse from Liverpool fans once Ringo replaced Pete, and again when they hit the big time. She sang backup on Bungalow Bill, and can be heard cheering on the Let It Be album, with a quick "thanks, Mo" on record from Paul. Frank Sinatra sang The Lady is a Champ to her on her birthday. Her jamming on the shitty couch in the Abbey Road studio in the Get Back documentary is all of us. 

She was also the queen of reinvention. Born Mary Cox, she decided at 14 that she'd rather be Maureen. Mo had the best, funky style: she was remembered by her friends for making over their school uniform and was always on the cutting edge of 60s fashion; I covet her suede boots and miniskirted velvet suit. As a former hairdresser, she was ahead of the curve in experimenting with any and all shades of hair color - in her limited time in the spotlight, she was brunette, blonde, redhead, chesnut, black, and in the Something video, did two-tone dirty biker blonde with black roots and dead eye stare.

As her marriage to Ringo broke down, she did too. She recovered to stand on her own two feet and called him out in court for his poor treatment of her and the children, his behavior akin to cartoon character Andy Capp. Sadly, he agreed. 

Her second act was as the wife of Hard Rock Cafe founder Isaac Tigrett, who fondly called her "the ultimate collectible." Sadly, she died at the age of 48 of leukemia, with everyone at her side. Paul dedicated the song Little Willow to her. 

Lipstick on the Mic: Tina Turner

She never did things nice... and easy. 

This woman was EPIC. She had hits when my parents were young, and she continued to have hits well into my teen years. WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER HEROOOOO! 

Her story is well-known, from books to movies to jukebox musicals. 

My friend's dad, Dale, was in love with her. 

She blurred the lines between soul, rock, and R&B so that she pretty much ruled wherever she landed.

What can I say about her that hasn't already been said? 

Her music is the dividing line when I went from being a participating skater to becoming a competitor. I was struggling with an overly complicated concept for a skating program when Proud Mary came on VH-1 while I was making dinner. Like a laser, the song cut through any ill-conceived ideas I had, and I was just going to skate with the energy of Tina Turner. It was my first decisive win, coming in first out of seven at the Grand Rapids Open, second at Wyandotte, second at sectionals, and just outside the medals in sixth at nationals. 

She invites you to tap into her energy. Love to you, Anna Mae. 

YA Book Club: The Phantom Tollbooth

Milo and Tock

Laura is my GOAT, but what inspired me after she threw on her black wedding dress and took the road north to the little gray house with her handsome farmer boy? 

YA - Young Adult - books are a classification for writing based on themes appropriate for tween to teen readers. And I ate it up, often found lying on the couch of my parents' front porch, reading deep into the night, drinking ice water, and listening to the crickets. 

One of the trippiest books in my collection was The Phantom Tollbooth by Norman Juster. It is the story of Milo, who owns far too many toys and yet is always bored and complaining. One day in his playroom he notices a new gift, a cardboard tollbooth. He puts it together, pays the supplied token in the payment slot, and, riding in his toy car, travels to The Kingdom of Wisdom. 

He finds a watchdog named Tock, the Humbug, and feuding brothers, King Azaz and the Mathemagician, who fight over the importance of words vs. numbers. He shops for letters, eats light, orchestrates a day, meets the largest midget, the smallest giant, the thinnest fat man, and the fattest skinny man - all who is one ordinary man. 

Milo almost loses his way in the mountains of Ignorance, where the Terrible Trivium sidetracks the travelers into digging a hole with a pin, moving a pile of sand with tweezers, and filling a bucket with an eye dropper. 

He and Tock save the day by rescuing the princesses Rhyme and Reason from their prison, a castle in the air, because time - and therefore Tock - flies. 

The word play is delicious, and the internal visualization makes the imagination run wild. 

Celebrated as a hero, Milo drives home, thinking his parents must be worried as he has been gone for weeks, to discover only an hour had passed. Eager to revisit Wisdom the next day, he was disappointed to discover a note that the tollbooth had been delivered to a new child who needed to learn the way. While sad he can no longer visit this fantastical land, Milo concludes there is so much for him to learn and live back home.