The Stabilizers, "One Simple Thing"
It’s been argued that the single most important invention of
the industrial era was the washing machine, as the time savings it yielded helped
revolutionize the role of women in the western world. If so, the song-identifying service Shazam (not to be confused
with the significantly less revolutionary Shaq genie movie -- Kazaam) would
have to be a close second.
Anyone who came of age before the new millennium has a white whale music story. That amazing, life-altering song they heard in the mall dressing room or caught the last 45 seconds of in the car but couldn’t identify.
Cut to car interior, Chicago suburbs, late summer, 1986.
Our protagonists – your two future MWMT collaborators – are engaged in a highly delusional discussion about how they could’ve been high school cross-country gods if only they had hit puberty sooner. Or their parents had the foresight to hold them back in kindergarten like Texas football kids.
The conversation suddenly slackens as they simultaneously sense the synth pop tune playing beneath has begun to build into something epic (at least by 1986 musical standards).
Alas, at musical fade out, the DJ stiffs our inquisitive heroes. And for all their combined intelligence, our musical duo exit the song with little more lyrical recall than “One simple thing is all we really need…”
Now, keep in mind, at this point the World Wide Web is but an itch in Congressman’s Gore’s pocket. As such, one’s ability to resolve such musical mysteries is seriously challenged.
Sure, if your taste gravitates towards the top of the charts, any lyrical limbo you might experience will likely be brief in nature. Resolved by a call to a friend or the first of many radio station replays. Congratulations. But call me Ahab.
For few have wasted more mental energy or time trying to chase down obscure aural glimpses of perceived greatness than I. My past is literally littered with lyrical fragments -- typically shortsightedly scribbled on school papers, car registrations or client documents.
Phoning a friend was definitely out in this scenario. A. Most of my friends thought my musical taste sucked (some things never change). B. The likely sole exception was sitting next to me equally stumped.
Option 1: Try calling the radio station. Good luck with that one. Getting through was always damn near impossible, even when they weren’t giving away copies of the new Bon Jovi CD to the 107th caller.
Option 2: Head down to the library and peruse the lower depths of the hot 100 in Billboard magazine and hope you spot a familiar looking song title. But quel drag, dude -- particularly if you were dependent upon your mom for transport (and the Maytag had once again shrunken that forgotten back pocket library card to a dollhouse prop).
Anyone who came of age before the new millennium has a white whale music story. That amazing, life-altering song they heard in the mall dressing room or caught the last 45 seconds of in the car but couldn’t identify.
Cut to car interior, Chicago suburbs, late summer, 1986.
Our protagonists – your two future MWMT collaborators – are engaged in a highly delusional discussion about how they could’ve been high school cross-country gods if only they had hit puberty sooner. Or their parents had the foresight to hold them back in kindergarten like Texas football kids.
The conversation suddenly slackens as they simultaneously sense the synth pop tune playing beneath has begun to build into something epic (at least by 1986 musical standards).
Alas, at musical fade out, the DJ stiffs our inquisitive heroes. And for all their combined intelligence, our musical duo exit the song with little more lyrical recall than “One simple thing is all we really need…”
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| Image: Ben Hosking, Flickr (CC by 2.0) |
Now, keep in mind, at this point the World Wide Web is but an itch in Congressman’s Gore’s pocket. As such, one’s ability to resolve such musical mysteries is seriously challenged.
Sure, if your taste gravitates towards the top of the charts, any lyrical limbo you might experience will likely be brief in nature. Resolved by a call to a friend or the first of many radio station replays. Congratulations. But call me Ahab.
For few have wasted more mental energy or time trying to chase down obscure aural glimpses of perceived greatness than I. My past is literally littered with lyrical fragments -- typically shortsightedly scribbled on school papers, car registrations or client documents.
Phoning a friend was definitely out in this scenario. A. Most of my friends thought my musical taste sucked (some things never change). B. The likely sole exception was sitting next to me equally stumped.
Option 1: Try calling the radio station. Good luck with that one. Getting through was always damn near impossible, even when they weren’t giving away copies of the new Bon Jovi CD to the 107th caller.
Option 2: Head down to the library and peruse the lower depths of the hot 100 in Billboard magazine and hope you spot a familiar looking song title. But quel drag, dude -- particularly if you were dependent upon your mom for transport (and the Maytag had once again shrunken that forgotten back pocket library card to a dollhouse prop).
Option 3: Employ the “running cassette” approach. Record (and then re-record) hours of programming in hopes of capturing that elusive musical Sasquatch. Problem was you could only tape 45 minutes at a time until you had to flip the cassette. Plus after ten or fifteen layers of recording, even the sound on your fancy Maxell tape started to blow.
Option 3A: Put your VCR on the case. Navigate those blue screen settings correctly (EP!) and you could record up to six hours of tunes in one shot (though inevitably accidentally taping over your favorite Miami Vice episode in the process). Believe it or not, those unimaginative MTV programmers were playing music 24-7 back then. Totes lame.
Of course, then you had to fast forward through six hours of MTV videos, which for a yet to be diagnosed ADD, late-teen male was not likely to be a quick undertaking. Whatever progress the washing machine made in advancing the female cause, I assure you Motley Crue’s videos surely single-handedly offset.
And to be honest, the early era of the search engine (we’re talking mid-90’s) only made this musical questing worse. I spent hours floundering about the nascent web wielding now defunct search engines (RIP Infoseek & AltaVista) and misremembered lyrics as a pitiful torch in a vast musical darkness. The truth might have been out there somewhere, but I sure as hell couldn’t find it.
Now, I know us, pre-Google folk, are always bitching about how easy kids have it today. How technology (& bowling alley gutter guards) and the accompanying instant gratification are depriving an entire generation of the necessary frustrations needed to develop resolve. The anti-bacterial soap argument applied to personal character.
And though I firmly believe bowling back to back zeros (and having my grandfather tell me to suck it up) was likely my key formative childhood experience, I say screw all that. Go find your resolve in the carpet cleaning section. Shazam rules. One tap; a brief listen; musical enlightenment. Better living through technology. General Electric’s promise realized.
Admittedly my social etiquette has suffered a bit since the invention of Shazam. I seem to recall shushing at least one birthday celebration (mine, at least) in pursuit of Zedd’s “Clarity” and at least one phony trip to the john during a client lunch for a covert sound system “walk by” capture of Richard Walters' “Elephant in the Room”. But social faux pas be damned, I got the song!
Yeah, I know the cotton gin, sewing machine, light bulb, telephone and hell, even penicillin, have their backers. But let’s talk what really matters – free app downloads. Shazam is #12 on the all-time iPhone download list. One spot ahead of Angry Birds free. Ahead of Angry Birds free, people!!
Penicillin? Didn’t even break the top 100. I rest my case.
-M
PS: As for that mystery song from 1986, I got a postcard (remember those) from my co-collaborator multiple weeks later that read: “ONE SIMPLE THING” BY THE STABILIZERS. Shazam!
PS: As for that mystery song from 1986, I got a postcard (remember those) from my co-collaborator multiple weeks later that read: “ONE SIMPLE THING” BY THE STABILIZERS. Shazam!
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