Music. Coffee. Food.

Music.  Coffee.  Food.
My Three Pleasures

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Reflexin'

I have something to admit: last night, I listened to “The Reflex” by Duran Duran.  No, that’s not necessarily a problem.  It’s the number of times I listened to it that may be a little unsettling: roughly 20.  Ten of those twenty were in a row.  I don’t know why.  I wish I had a reason for you.  Hell, I wish I wish I had an answer for ME.  There’s just something magical that I hear in that song when beer is involved.  But even sober, the US single version of that song is probably the best song ever released in the 1980’s.  And yes, I’m being serious.  It’s a perfect embodiment of pop culture in the 80’s: synth-pop, catchy, mysterioso lyrics, sing-a-long-ability, the title being repeated constantly, etc.  Growing up, my mother’s Duran Duran song of choice was “Union of the Snake.”  Which in turn became my first favorite Duran Duran song.  It wasn’t until the invention of VH1’s Pop Up Video that I was able to explore other Duran Duran delightfulness, the first of which was “Hungry Like the Wolf.”  After recording that video off of said TV program and watching it a few hundred times I decided that IT was the absolutely best song of the 1980’s.  However, it would take a purchase of their Greatest Hits to convince me otherwise.  Of course, I listened to “Rio” and “Hungry Like the Wolf” repeatedly, because Pop Up Video taught me to like those songs in particular.  Having my fill of those songs, I began to explore the rest of the album.  “The Reflex” is the 2nd song on the playlist and within the first fade-in echoes, I’m hooked.  I already know the rest of the song is going to be amazing.  And it does not disappoint.  I have absolutely no idea what Mr. Le Bon is talking about, but I don’t give a damn.  It’s catchy, I’m singing it in the shower, & I’ve decided that I’m going to marry Simon Le Bon.  (I guess I should remind you here that I was roughly 15 when I finally discovered this song.  All of the other girls in my age bracket at my high school were deciding which Backstreet Boy or which NSYNC member they wanted to marry; I had my eyes set on a middle-aged British man.)

But despite my love of & loyalty to “The Reflex”, something strange happens: I get a little older & decide to place my loyalty with a different Duran Duran song: “Come Undone.”  This will prove to be a problem when I reach drinking age, as it makes me depressed when mixed with alcohol.  “The Reflex”, though... “The Reflex” makes you wants to dance & sing along loudly when mixed with alcohol.  So I slowly crawled my way back to my favorite Duran Duran tune.

Now, to be clear, this isn’t exactly my favorite song of all time.  No, that distinction is reserved for a song by my favorite band, The Beach Boys.  But there is something about “The Reflex” that I just can’t leave behind, sober or otherwise.  I was too young to fully appreciate the 80’s but I am grateful to have been reared in a house where Duran Duran was played regularly.

And now, here I am, well into my 20’s-going-on-30 in 2012, having just found out that I am now officially a political scientist, one of my life’s goals.  And I’m having a few (translation-many) beers & all I can think about is how awesome “The Reflex” would sound to highlight the moment.

Mr. Le Bon, I don’t know what you’re singing about, but thank you for “The Reflex”.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

A Blast from my Past

(An old draft I discovered today that I started two years ago)

During my midday break today, Halbastram and I were watching Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations and he was in L.A. sampling the fare at Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles. As a semi-stereotypical african-american, I do enjoy the chicken and waffle combination something fierce, as it is a southern tradition that made it's way up north to my family via various migrations.

But that's not what made me watch this episode. What Mr. Bourdain ordered after the chicken and waffles can only be described as pure food porn for me: fried chicken livers and gravy, grits and scrambled eggs. I nearly had an orgasmic moment when that plate flashed across my screen. As a foodie, I'm game for just about anything. The greasier, the better. And don't get me started on ethnic food. I'll take it all. (Except foie gras. Call me a bleeding heart, but the whole process of that meal just makes me shiver. It's a long discussion not worth mentioning in this feel-good blog)

The meal reminded me of holiday brunches that I would have with my family. A lot of our southern roots would shine through and with everyone bringing their own receipes to the table, I would be guaranteed no less than 6-7 different meal choices on my plate at any given moment. Cornbread, baked mac'n'chesse, collard greens, cabbage, salt pork, baked chicken, stuffing with cornish hens, homemade cranberry sauce, buttermilk biscuits from scratch, neck bones, etc etc etc. The list goes on. And it all goes in my belly.