Them was the good old days
Because I am insane, I made a list of videos I remember from MTV's earliest days. My family didn't get cable until a few months after MTV first started airing in August 1981, so I may have missed a few important clips. I have arbitarily cut off the list sometime in the spring of 1983 for reasons that are so subjective they could not possibly matter to you.
Please feel free to contribute.
.38 Special
Caught Up In You
Hold on Loosely
Adams, Brian
Cuts Like a Knife
Run to You
Ant, Adam
Ant Music
Asia
Heat of the Moment
Only Time Will Tell
Bananarama
It Ain't What You Do
Really Sayin' Something
Basil, Toni
Mickey
Beatles, The
Love Me Do
Benatar, Pat
You Better Run
Blue Oyster Cult
Burnin' For You
Bow Wow Wow
I Want Candy
Bowie, David
Ashes to Ashes
Buggles, The
Plastic Age
Video Killed the Radio Star
Carnes, Kim
Draw of the Cards
Cars, The
Shake It Up
Since You're Gone
Cheap Trick
If You Want My Love
She's Tight
Chilliwack
My Girl
Clash, The
Rock the Casbah
Collins, Phil
In the Air Tonight
Costello, Elvis
Oliver's Army
Cougar, John
Hurts So Good
Jack and Diane
Crenshaw, Marshall
Someday, Someway
Whenever You're On My Mind
Crosby Stills and Nash
Southern Cross
Daltrey, Roger
Free Me
Devo
Love Without Anger
Through Being Cool
Whip It
Dexy's Midnight Runners
Come On Eileen
Dire Straits
Skateaway
Dolby, Thomas
She Blinded Me With Science
Doors, The
Touch Me
Duran Duran
Hungry Like the Wolf
Planet Earth
Rio
Easton, Sheena
For Your Eyes Only
Fagen, Donald
New Frontier
Fleetwood Mac
Hold Me
Flock of Seagulls, A
I Ran
Genesis
Abacab
No Reply At All
Haircut 100
Love Plus One
Hall and Oates
Maneater
Private Eyes
Harrison, George
All Those Years Ago
Hendrix, Jimi
Fire
Human League
Don�t You Want Me
Iris, Donnie
Love is Like a Rock
Sweet Merilee
Iron Maiden
Run to the Hills
J. Geils Band
Centerfold
Freeze Frame
Love Stinks
Jackson, Joe
Breaking Us in Two
Steppin' Out
Jefferson Starship
Jane
Jett, Joan
Crimson and Clover
I Love Rock and Roll
Joel, Billy
Allentown
Pressure
Johansen, David
We Gotta Get Out of This Place/Don't Bring Me Down/It's My Life
John, Elton
Still Standing
Jones, Grace
Demolition Man
Joplin, Janis
Tell Mama
Judas Priest
Hot Rockin'
Kinks, The
Predictable
Kiss
I Love It Loud
Lewis, Huey
Do You Believe in Love
Hope You Love Me Like You Say You Do
Working For a Living
Loggins, Kenny
I'm All Right
Loverboy
Workin' for the Weekend
Madness
House of Fun
One Step Beyond
Our House
McCartney, Paul
Ebony and Ivory
Take It Away
Miller, Steve
Abracadabra
Missing Persons
Destination Unknown
Motels, The
Only the Lonely
Musical Youth
Pass the Dutchie
Newton-John, Olivia
Physical
Nicks, Stevie
Stop Draggin' My Heart Around
Numan, Gary
Cars
Palmer, Robert
Clues
Parsons, Alan
Eye in the Sky
Petty, Tom
You Got Lucky
Plant, Robert
Big Log
In the Mood
Police, The
Don't Stand So Close to Me
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
Invisible Sun
Spirits in the Material World
Pretenders, The
Brass in Pocket
Kid
Tattooed Love Boys
Queen
Under Pressure
Reed, Lou
Women
Rolling Stones, The
Going to a Go Go
Hang Fire
Neighbors
Start Me Up
Time is on My Side
Waiting on a Friend
Rush
Tom Sawyer
Saga
On the Loose
Santana
Hold On
Specials, The
A Message to You Rudy
Split Enz
Six Months in a Leaky Boat
Springfield, Rick
Don't Talk to Strangers
Springsteen, Bruce
Atlantic City
Squeeze
Black Coffee In Bed
Tempted
Stray Cats
Rock this Town
Stray Cat Strut
Styx
Mr. Roboto
Too Much Time on My Hands
Talking Heads
Once in a Lifetime
Taylor, James
Used to Be Her Town
Thoroughgood, George
Bad to the Bone
Tom Tom Club
Genius Of Love
Townshend, Pete
Face Dances Pt. 2
Rough Boys
Tubes, The
Talk to You Later
U2
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Van Halen
Oh, Pretty Woman
Vapors, The
Turning Japanese
Wall of Voodoo
Mexican Radio
Who, The
Another Tricky Day
Don't Let Go the Coat
Eminence Front
You Better You Bet
Wright, Gary
Really Wanna Know You
XTC
Senses Working Overtime
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Night flight
We took the red-eye back from San Francisco. This was mostly because the flight was cheap, but also because I get a little thrill every time I say the words we took the red-eye. The plane took off at about 11:30 p.m. Pacific time, and it was 5:00 a.m. Central time when we stepped onto solid ground on the South Side of Chicago.
The flight was completely full, which surprised me. Who wants to take the red-eye? Except that as my friend Ben in San Francisco pointed out, all the flights are full these days.
Ereck and I were apprehensive about the overnight flight. In the end, however, we agreed that it was an unmitigated success, because we slept the whole way, as did everyone else. This was no mean feat for me, since I'm the world's lightest sleeper, but the plane was completely silent and almost completely dark. I awakened only once mid-flight, when we hit some turbulence, and then again when word from the flight deck came that we were getting ready to land.
I was up from then on, and I sleepily gazed at the tiny television screens that were silently showing, of all things, the video for "Easy Lover," the 1986 hit by Philip Bailey and Phil Collins. The plane was shuddering violently at this point, and as I watched Bailey and Collins mouth the words ("She's an easy lover / She'll get a hold on you, believe it"), I thought: what if this is the last thing I see before I die?
We took the red-eye back from San Francisco. This was mostly because the flight was cheap, but also because I get a little thrill every time I say the words we took the red-eye. The plane took off at about 11:30 p.m. Pacific time, and it was 5:00 a.m. Central time when we stepped onto solid ground on the South Side of Chicago.
The flight was completely full, which surprised me. Who wants to take the red-eye? Except that as my friend Ben in San Francisco pointed out, all the flights are full these days.
Ereck and I were apprehensive about the overnight flight. In the end, however, we agreed that it was an unmitigated success, because we slept the whole way, as did everyone else. This was no mean feat for me, since I'm the world's lightest sleeper, but the plane was completely silent and almost completely dark. I awakened only once mid-flight, when we hit some turbulence, and then again when word from the flight deck came that we were getting ready to land.
I was up from then on, and I sleepily gazed at the tiny television screens that were silently showing, of all things, the video for "Easy Lover," the 1986 hit by Philip Bailey and Phil Collins. The plane was shuddering violently at this point, and as I watched Bailey and Collins mouth the words ("She's an easy lover / She'll get a hold on you, believe it"), I thought: what if this is the last thing I see before I die?
Friday, December 03, 2004
The big house
Almost as soon as we hit San Francisco, locals urged us to do Alcatraz. The recommendations' general thrust was, it's touristy but great, and the audio tour is awesome. So on our last day in town, we headed for prison.
Unfortunately this meant our second trip to Fisherman's Wharf, the tourist district on the north edge of the city. Mention of Fisherman's Wharf prompts San Franciscans to roll their eyes, and for good reason: it's a gaudy, depressing thicket of souvenir stands and chain restaurants. A few days earlier I had dragged Ereck there so we could visit the Maritime Museum, a National Park Service site that has its charms. But one visit to the Wharf seemed like plenty. But Alcatraz beckoned.
We took the cable car from Powell Street, and when we disembarked we were at pains to figure out where to catch the boat to Alcatraz. Various touts loudly urged us to take their ferries, but we wanted the real McCoy, which eventually we found: the Blue & Gold Fleet at pier 41. We bought our tickets--$16 each for boat fare plus audio tour--and immediately boarded the good ship. After a brief ride across the bay, during which we eavesdropped on Australians sharing travel secrets, we stepped onto Alcatraz Island. A volunteer gave a brief speech, and then we entered a long, low, rather scary old room in which we watched a short video, which covered the history of Alcatraz Island: the early settlement, the prison era, the 1969 takeover by Indian activists. I enjoyed the film, though the prig in me was vexed by an abundance of typos in the subtitles.
At last it was time to tour the prison. A young man slung audio devices around our necks, and we entered the cellbock. What immediately struck me was how small Alcatraz is. Modern prisons are giant, rambling affairs, but Alcatraz is mostly just five shortish hallways, which have grimly humorous names like Broadway and Michigan Avenue. There's also a library, a dining hall and a cavernous shower.
People are right to rave about the audio tour. The narration is by former guards and prisoners (I thought one of the prisoners sounded like Bill Cosby, especially when he talked about how inmate Frank Morris dug his way out with "a spooooon"). The audio's production values recall National Public Radio's, and stereo is used unnervingly for sound effects like marching feet and slamming cell doors. As we walked through the passages, the narrators pointed out the cells of famous inmates like Al Capone and Robert Stroud, the Birdman of Alcatraz. We walked into several cells, which are small and painted green. (The toilets are filled with concrete, so don't get any funny ideas.) We also got to check out the inside of the hole, the collective name of some creepy isolation cells along the prison's west wall.
Once the tour was over we were free to roam the island, but there's not much more to see. Lots of the structures, like the warden's house, were destroyed during the Indian occupation, and their eerie ruins remain. Barriers and fences keep visitors out of many areas, but most accessible areas have stunning views of the city.
Visiting the Rock was unsettling. Our prison system is so fucked up, and one can only imagine what kind of horrors went down at Alcatraz. The fact that it's now a popular tourist attraction is mindblowing. Maybe someday there will be an audio tour of Abu Ghraib.
Almost as soon as we hit San Francisco, locals urged us to do Alcatraz. The recommendations' general thrust was, it's touristy but great, and the audio tour is awesome. So on our last day in town, we headed for prison.
Unfortunately this meant our second trip to Fisherman's Wharf, the tourist district on the north edge of the city. Mention of Fisherman's Wharf prompts San Franciscans to roll their eyes, and for good reason: it's a gaudy, depressing thicket of souvenir stands and chain restaurants. A few days earlier I had dragged Ereck there so we could visit the Maritime Museum, a National Park Service site that has its charms. But one visit to the Wharf seemed like plenty. But Alcatraz beckoned.
We took the cable car from Powell Street, and when we disembarked we were at pains to figure out where to catch the boat to Alcatraz. Various touts loudly urged us to take their ferries, but we wanted the real McCoy, which eventually we found: the Blue & Gold Fleet at pier 41. We bought our tickets--$16 each for boat fare plus audio tour--and immediately boarded the good ship. After a brief ride across the bay, during which we eavesdropped on Australians sharing travel secrets, we stepped onto Alcatraz Island. A volunteer gave a brief speech, and then we entered a long, low, rather scary old room in which we watched a short video, which covered the history of Alcatraz Island: the early settlement, the prison era, the 1969 takeover by Indian activists. I enjoyed the film, though the prig in me was vexed by an abundance of typos in the subtitles.
At last it was time to tour the prison. A young man slung audio devices around our necks, and we entered the cellbock. What immediately struck me was how small Alcatraz is. Modern prisons are giant, rambling affairs, but Alcatraz is mostly just five shortish hallways, which have grimly humorous names like Broadway and Michigan Avenue. There's also a library, a dining hall and a cavernous shower.
People are right to rave about the audio tour. The narration is by former guards and prisoners (I thought one of the prisoners sounded like Bill Cosby, especially when he talked about how inmate Frank Morris dug his way out with "a spooooon"). The audio's production values recall National Public Radio's, and stereo is used unnervingly for sound effects like marching feet and slamming cell doors. As we walked through the passages, the narrators pointed out the cells of famous inmates like Al Capone and Robert Stroud, the Birdman of Alcatraz. We walked into several cells, which are small and painted green. (The toilets are filled with concrete, so don't get any funny ideas.) We also got to check out the inside of the hole, the collective name of some creepy isolation cells along the prison's west wall.
Once the tour was over we were free to roam the island, but there's not much more to see. Lots of the structures, like the warden's house, were destroyed during the Indian occupation, and their eerie ruins remain. Barriers and fences keep visitors out of many areas, but most accessible areas have stunning views of the city.
Visiting the Rock was unsettling. Our prison system is so fucked up, and one can only imagine what kind of horrors went down at Alcatraz. The fact that it's now a popular tourist attraction is mindblowing. Maybe someday there will be an audio tour of Abu Ghraib.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Computer world
It's complete: our household has made the transition from landline phones and DSL Internet to cell phones and cable Internet--and cable TV. So far, so good, though that last bit scares me a little. I keep flashing back to the time about eight years ago when I discovered my apartment had free cable, thanks to an oversight at the cable company. After a while, concerned friends had to bodily remove me from my abode just so I could get a little fresh air.
I'm relieved to learn that the one program I hoped to watch a lot on cable, old-school "Star Trek," is only aired by the Sci-Fi Channel on random Tuesdays and Sundays at 4:00 a.m. I had this idea that the Sci-Fi Channel's programming consisted solely of old-school "Star Trek" reruns, but it looks like I won't be watching much of this show--one of my all-time favorites--unless a Tivo somehow magically appears in our home (Santa, are you reading?).
I like the cell phones, which were indispensable on our vacation. I must admit, however, that I'm unnerved by how few calls I've gotten at my new number. I hope people--friends, clients, colleagues, potential employers--got my e-mail about the change, but in case you missed it, let me reiterate that my digits spell NOW GLIB.
As for cable Internet, we ordered a special from Charter: for three months our Internet access is very, very fast, and cheaper than the regular service. In March the price goes up, or we can switch to the slower connection. So far I have used our new abundant speed to watch a Kelly Clarkson video.
It's complete: our household has made the transition from landline phones and DSL Internet to cell phones and cable Internet--and cable TV. So far, so good, though that last bit scares me a little. I keep flashing back to the time about eight years ago when I discovered my apartment had free cable, thanks to an oversight at the cable company. After a while, concerned friends had to bodily remove me from my abode just so I could get a little fresh air.
I'm relieved to learn that the one program I hoped to watch a lot on cable, old-school "Star Trek," is only aired by the Sci-Fi Channel on random Tuesdays and Sundays at 4:00 a.m. I had this idea that the Sci-Fi Channel's programming consisted solely of old-school "Star Trek" reruns, but it looks like I won't be watching much of this show--one of my all-time favorites--unless a Tivo somehow magically appears in our home (Santa, are you reading?).
I like the cell phones, which were indispensable on our vacation. I must admit, however, that I'm unnerved by how few calls I've gotten at my new number. I hope people--friends, clients, colleagues, potential employers--got my e-mail about the change, but in case you missed it, let me reiterate that my digits spell NOW GLIB.
As for cable Internet, we ordered a special from Charter: for three months our Internet access is very, very fast, and cheaper than the regular service. In March the price goes up, or we can switch to the slower connection. So far I have used our new abundant speed to watch a Kelly Clarkson video.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Shellfish heaven
On your next visit to San Francisco you must not miss Swan Oyster Depot, a delightfully old-fashioned lunch spot in the Nob Hill neighborhood. The watchword is amazingly fresh seafood, and it's served at a counter with only about a dozen and a half stools. We arrived at 2:30 on a Tuesday and had to wait a few minutes to sit.
We ordered a dozen oysters, which our friendly young waiter shucked right in front of us. The oysters were delicious with cocktail sauce, and also without. (I think eating an oyster on the halfshell is like tasting the ocean itself.) I had a bowl of fine, creamy clam chowder and then the combination seafood cocktail, which was a sundae bowl filled with fresh shrimp, prawns, clams and crab, all of it slathered with yet more cocktail sauce (next time I'll ask for the sauce on the side). Ereck had a combination salad, with roughly the same meats. It looked glorious.
Despite Swan's ramshackle interior, the food is not particularly cheap. With tip we paid about $50 for all of the above, plus half a loaf of sourdough bread and a cup of coffee. The prices made me think of Doe's Eat Place in Greenville, Miss., a tumbledown shack of a joint that charges an arm and a leg for the best steak I've ever eaten.
Seafood cocktails, salads and chowder make up most of Swan's menu, which is a charming, hand-lettered affair that hangs over the counter. You can also get a whole lobster to eat, and the smoked salmon platter looks tasty. We can, in fact, vouch for the salmon--a man was slicing a huge salmon right in front of us as we ate, and he wordlessly tossed us each a sample. Delicious.
On your next visit to San Francisco you must not miss Swan Oyster Depot, a delightfully old-fashioned lunch spot in the Nob Hill neighborhood. The watchword is amazingly fresh seafood, and it's served at a counter with only about a dozen and a half stools. We arrived at 2:30 on a Tuesday and had to wait a few minutes to sit.
We ordered a dozen oysters, which our friendly young waiter shucked right in front of us. The oysters were delicious with cocktail sauce, and also without. (I think eating an oyster on the halfshell is like tasting the ocean itself.) I had a bowl of fine, creamy clam chowder and then the combination seafood cocktail, which was a sundae bowl filled with fresh shrimp, prawns, clams and crab, all of it slathered with yet more cocktail sauce (next time I'll ask for the sauce on the side). Ereck had a combination salad, with roughly the same meats. It looked glorious.
Despite Swan's ramshackle interior, the food is not particularly cheap. With tip we paid about $50 for all of the above, plus half a loaf of sourdough bread and a cup of coffee. The prices made me think of Doe's Eat Place in Greenville, Miss., a tumbledown shack of a joint that charges an arm and a leg for the best steak I've ever eaten.
Seafood cocktails, salads and chowder make up most of Swan's menu, which is a charming, hand-lettered affair that hangs over the counter. You can also get a whole lobster to eat, and the smoked salmon platter looks tasty. We can, in fact, vouch for the salmon--a man was slicing a huge salmon right in front of us as we ate, and he wordlessly tossed us each a sample. Delicious.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Jiggity jig
We're just back from vacation in San Francisco! And my arms are beyond tired. We took the red-eye from California, and that was followed by a three-hour layover at Midway plus a flight to Madison on a plane that looked like something from a World War II movie. Happily, all of the preceding was quite pleasant.
I'll have lots to tell about San Francisco soon. I debated blogging from there or at least letting you know I would be away, but I worried that hooligans would be tempted if I announced to the blogosphere that our apartment would be empty for a week. Not that Back With Interest readers are hooligans, necessarily, but you can't be too careful these days.
We're just back from vacation in San Francisco! And my arms are beyond tired. We took the red-eye from California, and that was followed by a three-hour layover at Midway plus a flight to Madison on a plane that looked like something from a World War II movie. Happily, all of the preceding was quite pleasant.
I'll have lots to tell about San Francisco soon. I debated blogging from there or at least letting you know I would be away, but I worried that hooligans would be tempted if I announced to the blogosphere that our apartment would be empty for a week. Not that Back With Interest readers are hooligans, necessarily, but you can't be too careful these days.
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