Fun Time Music Festival

What Is Fun Time Music?

There has to be others like me.

I could probably summarize The Fun Time Music manifesto concisely by just quoting the infamous Ted Nugent. He once said, “Anyone who came here tonight to get mellow can just turn around and get the F*%$ outta here!” However, that is not very inclusive. I would like to welcome others into the fold. I want to invite others to become “part of the body”, like that old Star Trek episode.

I know that much of the music I play is an acquired taste, so I have no delusions about becoming the next Simon Cowell. I also want to be clear that everyone is entitled to like the music they like, even if it’s insufferable tripe like Iggy Azalea.

But, I have to admit upfront that I am a music snob and I can’t help it. I’m not a snob in an arrogant, “My music is better” sort of way. I am a snob in that it is not likely that anyone is going to impress me with their musical tastes unless that music has Fun Time Music attributes (which I will go over shortly). I believe the reason I like or dislike music is mostly genetic. I literally mean that the reason I like music a certain way is physiological.

I can actually remember my first favorite song. I’m talking way back here. I was definitely a preschooler like 3 or 4. My mom and dad were not particularly into music that much, but they did have this old .45 record player. My parents and my brother would typically put on pop hits from The Partridge Family or The New Christy Minstrels. They were ok to me, but I was not blown away.

Then one day, somebody put on this old .45 by a Texas Bluesman named Ray Sharpe called “Linda Lu.” What that record was doing in my parents collection is beyond me, but there was something about the Blues groove in that song that totally wrung my bell. I have basically been pursuing the emotion of that groove ever since that day. If the music does not contain some kind of groove, I won’t like it.

Much of contemporary music is so boring to me that it sucks the energy from my body. I mean it actually makes me physically weak. I equate it to going to church. I believe it is a good thing to go to church once in a while, but there is only one problem for me personally. It’s too boring. There is no energy. The pace is way too slow. I dread the thought of even going. Not because of the message, but basically because it’s forced boredom. If church was more like the James Brown scene in The Blues Brothers movie, I would go every Sunday–hell, I’d go every day.

So now you understand why I am so particular about my musical tastes–it’s innate in me and I can’t help it. That is why I’m a music snob.

This whole idea of my musical tastes being genetic leads me to ask, am I the only person like me? There certainly has to be others like me out there, right? I refuse to believe that I am alone in this world. That is when the vision for The Fun Time Music Festival became clear.

The Fun Time Music Festival is a means of reaching out to those of you who share my vision of how music should be. Well, let’s not go that far. Let’s say how music could be–just a little more frequently.

Attributes of Fun Time Music

One of the good things about Fun Time Music, is that it has tangible attributes. One of those attributes is that the time period is irrelevant.

It strikes me how many people actually believe that in order for music to be considered “good” it has to be from the current time period. I understand that younger people are weary of being told how great the 60’s were and all that. But to dismiss music out of hand simply because it is not current is not cool bro.

Another attribute is that genre is irrelevant.

Fun Time Music covers a wide array of genres–as you will be able to tell when you listen to the program. I play Jazz, Blues, Classic Rock, Punk Rock, Progressive Rock, Funk, New Wave, Ska, Show Tunes, Oldies, Rockabilly, etc.

Possibly the most important attribute is the one that ties all these genres together–and that is a downbeat. Something you can snap your fingers to, tap your foot to, bop your head to or air jam to. I once read in the liner notes of a CD that put it perfectly. “Today’s music is all Rock and NO Roll.” There needs to be some “Roll” in the music or it ain’t Fun Time Music.

Fun Time Music is more about the music and less about lyrics. Again, this is primarily due to another physiological fact about me--I don't hear very well. I have had hearing problems most of my life and am not able to understand lyrics as well as others. Therefore, I never bothered to listen to lyrics. Because of this, I will frequently play instrumentals. I will also play songs with, GASP, guitar solos.

Way too often I’ll go to a bar and hear a combo playing and just when it seems like they’re about to hit the groove and start jamming a bit, they end the song abruptly. To me that’s like having sex with no climax. Keep the groove going for a little bit! It doesn’t have to be the “Mountain Jam” by the Allman Brothers, but for God’s sake, 48 bars of jamming won’t hurt anyone. If the groove is good, stick with it

Another attribute of Fun Time Music is that it needs to have a sense of humor.

There is an old Blues number I like called, “Get to Gettin’” by Big Walter Price. It is basically a song about Walter and his wife squabbling. He’s telling his wife to stop her crap or he’s going to smack her upside the head. Honestly, I don’t think Walter really intended to hit his wife. It is more of an empty threat. The same way Ralph Cramden on “The Honeymooners” would threaten his wife with the “Bang! Zoom!” However, I’m sure some people today would condemn me as some kind of sexist misogynist who advocates for wife-beating simply for playing this song. That is not why I would play the song. I don’t advocate for wife beating. I just like the groove of the music. I love the lead guitar work. Besides, I listened to what Big Walter had to say and I’d have to agree that his wife had it coming.

Just kidding. It’s called a joke, so “Lighten up Francis.”

It provides a positive energy.

I called it The Fun Time Music Festival for a reason. The music is fun and about having fun. Nothing brings people together better than having fun.

When I say “having fun,” I mean in the common understanding of the term. There are miscreants out there whose idea of fun is to get in fist fights and vandalize things. Those are automatic disqualifications from Fun Time Music. Like Jack Black said in “The School of Rock”, “Rock n Roll isn’t about getting loaded and acting like a jerk.”

Fun Time Music is about providing positive energy not negative energy. Not like a Donny Osmond/Up With People sort of positive energy. And not in a pushy “inspirational” Super Bowl ad sort of positive energy. It is more like a “gettin’ loaded and gettin’ laid” sort of positive energy.

Rap and Hip-hop rarely fall into this category. Don’t get me wrong, I mean no disrespect to those who like Rap. However, Rap is not Fun Time Music. Rap is the epitome of “gotta make a statement” music. It’s all about “telling it like it is” and “speaking truth to power” and all that. Moreover, too many Rap artists hold themselves in very high regard. They take themselves way too seriously. They think of themselves as modern day prophets who are going to change the world with their tired statements about society.

Heavy Metal rarely falls into this category either. Again, no disrespect to those who like it, but Heavy Metal actually epitomizes “All Rock and No Roll.” Heavy Metal is also so dreadfully serious. It’s all dark commentary on the world and visions of the apocalypse. It’s filled with anger and angst to the point that it drives people to suicide. What’s fun about that?

With all that said, Fun Time Music is meant to bring people together IN FUN. While most of the music in the Fun Time Music Festival is likely to be considered heterosexual male music in nature, it is not intended to exclude or divide–not divide us by ethnicity, by gender, by sexual orientation or by political affiliation. About the only people it excludes are people who are ultra sensitive, have no sense of humor and who are always looking to “make a statement.”

In other words, boring people.

Like I said before, nothing brings people together like having fun. So hang up your hang ups and set your soul free with The Fun Time Music Festival.

Sincerely,

Mister Fun & Games

Why This Song Is Special To Me: Lay Down Sally - Eric Clapton

I am compelled to tell this harrowing tale of a near death experience in the middle of rural Indiana and a popular song by Eric Clapton.

It all began in college with my fraternity brothers from Beta Theta Pi. We had a really good intramural basketball team at the University of Minnesota. We won the fraternity league championship and went to the All-U Final Four and played at the legendary Williams Arena--home of the Minnesota Gopher men’s basketball team.

Later that winter, we decided to take our show on the road. We roadtripped out to Richmond, Kentucky to play in the “All Beta Theta Pi Basketball Tournament.” We drove all the way out there in the back of an empty work van with no seats and a plastic bucket to go pee in.

We made quite an impression out there in the heart of basketball country. Not only did we come further than any other team, they were impressed that these dudes from the frozen tundra could play some ball. We beat all of our opponents by 20 points or more. We ended up losing in the championship game primarily because, like all the other fraternity guys at the tournament, we partied until four in the morning. Our opponents, Michigan State, decided to go to bed at midnight and skipped the party altogether. They may have won the game, but we were champions of the weekend.

Flash forward a year later. We felt we had to go back and see if we could win the whole thing. This time we did it in style. We held a few parties to raise money so we could rent an RV. We partied pretty good that first night on the road. However, we were responsible enough to make sure the driver was sober. Eventually we all passed out.

I was the first person up the next morning except for the driver and his co-pilot. I took advantage of this and popped a music tape into the boom box. My buddy Kent was the next to wake up. He and I cracked a morning beer just as the sun was rising over the grassy plains of central Indiana. I took a gulp of my beer when “Lay Down Sally” by Eric Clapton, started playing on the boom box.

I was in a good place.

Scott, the co-pilot up front, got up and went to the fridge to get a soda. Suddenly, the RV lurched wildly. It tossed Scott across the RV and he bashed into the wall. The refrigerator and cabinet doors on the right side of the RV flew open and debris went flying across the room. Before we knew it, the RV flipped over onto it’s side. Bodies were flying and the keg we had in the bathroom blasted through the cardboard wall and nearly crushed my friend Brent's skull. It all happened in seconds. Dazed, I crawled out the shattered back window of the RV. Other drivers had already pulled over and were running towards the wrecked RV.

That incident totally redefined the term “buzzwrecker.”

It turned out that despite being stone sober, our driver was dumb enough to put a battery operated TV on the dashboard. While watching The Flintstones on Indianapolis TV, he took his eyes off the road and veered into the ditch. He overcompensated to get back onto the freeway and we wiped out. Everybody was OK. It was very fortunate.

One of the tow truck guys (with almost no teeth), said in a very thick rural accent, “Must have been a helluva ride, huh?”

Good fortune struck for us again. It so happened that we were about 30 minutes away from Purdue University. We managed to get in contact with the Beta Theta Pi chapter there and before we knew it, our fraternity brothers from Purdue came and rescued us. We spent the night at Purdue and the next morning caught a shuttle to Indianapolis to catch a flight home.

It so happened that this was the first time I had ever been on a plane. That was by far, the most exciting 48 hours of my life. That is why the song Lay Down Sally is special to me.

Linda Lu - Tom Jones

My first favorite song.

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We're Tight - Rufus & Carla Thomas

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Tramp - Lowell Fulsom

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Born Under A Bad Sign - Albert King

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Sloppy Drunk - The David Bromberg Band

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Close To You - Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble

This song was originally written by a guy named Willie Dixon. Willie Dixon is a heavy hitter in the world of The Blues. Classic Rock bands have covered his music many times. Led Zeppelin's first album has two Willie Dixon covers -- "I Can't Quit You" and "You Shook Me." Eric Clapton and Cream covered Willie Dixon's song "Spoonful." The Doors covered this particular song on their Absolutely Live album.

The Doors kind of messed up the lyrics. This Stevie Ray Vaughn version is closer to the original Willie Dixon version.

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Insurance - The Climax Blues Band

This song "Insurance" is a Blues standard. I have no idea who the original artist is. This version is by the 1970's Blues Rock group The Climax Blues Band. Can anyone name the big hit by the Climax Blues Band?

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Little By Little - Greg Allman

The Allman Brothers were basically a Blues band. They trascended the Blues, clearly, but many of their songs are Blues covers.

This song is a cover a song by the legendary Chicago Blues man, Junior Wells.

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See See Baby - Freddie King

Freddie is a highly influential Texas Bluesman. You might say he is kind of like a Hank Williams equivalent of The Blues. Old classic Blues and R&B.

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One Way Out - Mick Jagger and The Red Devils

One Way Out was made famous by the Allman Brothers. It is originally an Elmore James song. This version features Mick Jagger playing with a 90's Blues Band from Los Angeles called "The Red Devils."

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The Rolling Stones -- Monkey Man

This one is going way back. I was probably 19 or 20 years old. Back in those days the drinking age was 19 in Minnesota and 18 in Wisconsin.

It was the summer after my freshman year at the University of Minnesota and my brother Brian and I were heading up to Northern Wisconsin for a 3rd of July celebration. That’s right, the 3rd of July. My brother Brian had a buddy from work who had a cabin in this town of Shell Lake, Wisconsin and for some reason Shell Lake celebrated the 3rd of July instead of the 4th.

It was a family reunion of sorts, my three cousins, Mike, John and Bob meet us there. All told there were eight young men ready to roll in this one lake town. We bought a keg, tapped it and settled into the parking lot of the public park near the boat landing (I guess you could do that back then). It was way before the actual town festivities began so we were just hanging out, drinking beer and listening to the car stereo.

There was a basketball court at the park and I wanted to play some hoops with my cousin Mike. Mike was a great basketball player and I was no slouch myself. I had never played with him before and was looking forward to it. I figured Mike and I would rule the court all day. But it didn’t happen. Mike and I should have slaughtered our opponents but we had no Mojo. I wasn’t hitting shots and we were not communicating. Perhaps beer had something to do with it?

Basketball was forced to come to an end by Mother Nature. A big ass thunderstorm was coming across the lake. Heavy winds, lightning, thunder...the whole thing. All of us took shelter in this big brick public bathroom. From there we watched as the storm wreaked havoc. When someone’s fishing boat went rolling by we boys started hootin’ and hollerin’. When a lightning bolt practically “clapped” us, we shouted out with drunken cheers again. This went on for twenty minutes or so when it calmed down and the clouds broke.

When the sun broke from the clouds, we had a pretty good buzz going on and we were starting to get hungry. My brother’s friend had a buddy who lived in Shell Lake. I don’t remember his name and never saw the guy again. But he was a great guy and I recall that his dad played football for the Baltimore Colts in the old days. Anyway, this guy brought us to a bar in downtown where they were having a pig roast--all you could eat. On top of that, beers were a dollar.

The bar owners must have jumped with glee when they saw eight big boys saunter into their little bar ready to spend money. We chilled in the bar for a couple hours, gorging on pork, swilling dollar beers and playing pool. Then it was time to head back to the parking lot for the start of the real party.

We were humming along pretty good by the time we got to the parking lot and re-tapped the keg. The crowd was starting to gather for a country music show that would be playing in the park. Until that time, however, our rowdy bunch was pretty much the soundtrack to the party. I specifically recall the defining song of the weekend. It was “Monkey Man” by the Rolling Stones. My brother Brian’s buddy and I were singing “I’m a monkaaaaaaay! I’m a monkaaaaaay, babe!” We no doubt sounded like shit, but who cares, we were having fun.

As the country music band started, we had to tone it down. We couldn’t have conflicting music. Our Shell Lake host knew of a party in town. We probably shouldn’t have piled into our cars but we did and took a drive out into the Wisconsin back country.

When we walked up to the house. The party had clearly commenced. Loud music blared from the house, people were shouting and the door was wide open. We waltzed in to what was the wildest game of “Indian” I had ever witnessed.

For those who don’t know, Indian is a drinking game where each player invents a hand gesture. When a player is “it”, he has to do his hand gesture and then someone else’s. That person has to repeat their hand gesture and then do someone else’s. If a player messes up in the rapid hand gesture gauntlet, they have to drink. All the time this is going on, the players who are not “it” have to pound their hands on the table.

This was a particularly hearty game of Indian. It was like out of a Warner Brothers’ cartoon--completely zany. The participants were pounding the table so hard, the table legs appeared to come off the floor a few times--and it was on carpet. The beers were splashing onto the table, but miraculously they didn’t fall over. My cousins and I were standing in awe directly across from this wild eyed bastard. He was the sansei master of Indian. He dominated play and was head cheerleader.

We ended up leaving the party soon after we arrived primarily because the last of the beer was bouncing around the Indian table. Therefore, we got back in our cars and went back to the parking lot. Things had pretty much wound down at the park. We were basically the only people left. We were thinking about packing it in as we sipped one last beer. But then a pleasant surprise came upon us--two teenage girls.

The first one was kind of a Plain Jane. The other, however, was hot. Not only that, she was “ready for some football” if you know what I mean. Just like that, eight wasted young men who could barely drag the last beer to their lips, suddenly brightened up. This young hottie wasn’t trying to hide a thing. Her goal was clear--get laid.

She had us by the palm of her hand. She instructed us all to gather around her. She told us all to take off our shirts, which we did. Then she proceeded to feel all our chests. She had no hesitation doling out criticism if a guy had man boobs or not. As she commented on the quality of our chests, the other guys were sure to dispute the call and mock the other guy mercilessly.

Eventually, it was time for her to make a choice. We all stood their teetering back and forth in drunken, silent anticipation when she chose my cousin John. That son-of-a-bitch.

John and this girl strolled off into the darkness. The rest of us stood there like dumbfounded dingleberries until the Shell Lake guy came up with the idea to go into the woods and spy on them. We couldn’t resist the temptation.

There we were, seven drunk young men, averaging six feet tall, tiptoeing through this dense forrest on the damp leaves trying fecklessly to not make any noise. It was a new moon that night and we could barely see our hands in front of our eyes let alone see two kids humping in the woods.

“Get the fuck outta here!” My naked cousin John shouted. We were practically standing on top of them and still couldn’t see them. We bust up laughing and took off back to the parking lot.

Eventually my cousin John ambled out of the woods and we called it a night.

The End.

As is the tradition, here is the song that commemorates that 3rd of July celebration in Shell Lake, Wisconsin--“Monkey Man.”

Jazz Flute -- Ron Burgundy

It was around November of 1992 that I made my first move away from my hometown of Minneapolis to San Diego, California. I had secured a job at a local independently owned TV station called KTTY. KTTY was the one of the last of a dying breed--the locally owned independent station. I didn’t make squat working at KTTY but it was so laid back that it is still one of my favorite jobs. There was no HR department, the stress level was really low and no one was overworked. Things were so laid back that the owner and general manager of the station didn’t say a word even if the company lost money in a particular month. He would just sit in his office smoking a couple packs a day, eating El Pollo Loco chicken and watching his other investments which actually paid dividends. KTTY was easily the lowest rated TV station in San Diego, but no other station had more fun that we did.

We even had a silly locally produced Friday morning community events program called “What’s up San Diego?” Even though I was working as the assistant program manager, I was one of the only people in the building who actually knew how to operate a TV camera. Therefore, I was assigned the position of lead cameraman. It was there that I met one of the hostesses of the show. Her name was Lisa. She was a sort of “roving reporter” for “What’s Up San Diego?” And not only that, she ended up being the woman who would eventually become my wife.

Lisa and I ended up getting “involved” when we made plans for her to set me up with one of her friends. Her friend was delinquent that night and as our son would say, “Well, you know.”

On one of our first dates, Lisa and I went down to the Gaslamp Quarter in downtown San Diego. I had been spending a lot of time in the Gaslamp back in those days because of place down there called “Patrick’s II” which is one of best Blues Music venues in Southern California. However, on this night, Lisa and I would be going to a place around the corner called “Croce’s” owned by the family of the late Jim Croce. Croce’s was a pretty nice place with a fine dining restaurant on one side and a bar on the other. Croce’s specialized in a genre of music I knew little about at the time but soon come to appreciate--Latin Jazz.

So anyway, Lisa and I wormed our way to the back of the bar and found a couple seats at this nice big table in the back. We listened to some awesome jazz, made some jokes and generally enjoyed our private little romantic spot in the back of the bar. No sooner than we had become secure in our private spot when this trio of older adults came into the bar, walked toward the back and sat right down at the table with Lisa and I.

“What the fuck?” was our mutual reaction. There were several other places in the bar for these people to sit (or stand for that matter). What possessed them to intentionally invade the space of what was obviously a romantic rendezvous. We bitched and moaned for a little bit until Lisa came up with an idea. She slid her chair closer to mine and then initiated a colossal make-out session. We had tongues flapping in each other’s mouths. It should have been enough to make anyone feel compelled to leave the table. These people were completely unfazed. It was as if they didn’t see it at all. They just continued chatting loudly drowning out the music that I was personally enjoying.

Just like that our romantic night at Croce’s was abruptly cancelled. Well, not really. We left and our night continued to be very fun.

In commemoration of that night at Croce’s, I present the Jazz flute scene from “Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.”

Eric Burdon and War--Bare Back Ride

I'm sure most aficionados of Blues would not consider Eric Burdon & War a Blues band. They'd probably be right. However, no one can deny that blues was definitely an influence. Eric Burdon, afterall, was straight out of the Blues influenced "British Invasion" of the early 60's. One also cannot deny that that this particular song "Bare Back Ride" has a definite blues flavor. The influential John Lee Hooker boogie rhythm and Lee Oskar's harmonica jam totally push this song into the realm of Blues Music.

I don't know why I'm so defensive about this. It's not like there is a blues conspiracy against me and my beliefs (or is there?). I just think that this 1970's gem is the kind of blues I like to hear and I thought you might like it too.

By now you have to admit that my music recommendations are spot on. You're now thoroughly convinced and you don't even need to question my recommendation. Just click on the link below and buy. I don't just recommend the song, I recommend the whole double-CD. There are a few other solid obscure gems.

One other thing. If anyone thinks I'm getting rich pitching this music, get a clue. I've nabbed a total of $1.33 so far this year, so help a brother out.

Edgar Blanchard--Let's Get It

Context is a very important part of listening to music. The circumstances under which you hear a song can make you hate it or love it.

Such is the story of Edgar Blanchard's song, "Let's Get It."

I have previously mentioned my days as a volunteer DJ at KFAI community radio in Minneapolis. Back in the mid 80's, KFAI was located at the corner of Bloomington and Lake Streets just south of downtown Minneapolis. Back then this intersection was the Florence and Normandie equivalent of Minneapolis. In other words, it was one of the sketchiest areas of the Twin Cities. Roaming around this area at 2AM was a bit risky to your physical well being.

It just so happened that I had the overnight shift from 2AM to 6AM. The station was locked up and the only way in was to call from a pay phone on the side of the building and the other DJ would then come down and let me in.

I went to the phone booth and dialed the studio. It just so happened that the other DJ was currently on the air and couldn't answer the phone. Just about this time, two nocturnal creatures emerged from the darkness clearly high out of their minds.

It seemed that these two dudes needed to make a phone call too. And of all the phone booths in the neighborhood, they chose the one right next to me. I started to worry when it was evident that they really weren't making a phone call. One guy picked up the phone and put it to his ear but he never put in a quarter and he was whispering to the other guy.

I wanted very badly to just turn my back on these two miscreants and run. However, every instinct told me that turning my back would have been fatal. Instead, I just stared them down. I kept my eyes focused on their every move until finally the DJ in the studio answered the phone.

I made haste around the corner and jumped into the security of the radio station.

Now, I may have been wrong about those two guys. My life may not have been in danger. But let's face it, if you're roaming the streets of Bloomington and Lake at 2A you are clearly not out performing philanthropy.

I took a deep breath and settled into the KFAI record library looking for some new music to play for the show and to sooth my ragged nerves. That is when I found this tune by Edgar Blanchard. It really is just a simple early R&B/Rock n' Roll beat from New Orleans. But the context for me was just right and I've loved this song ever since.

I'm guessing the tale of my near death experience moved you so much that you feel compelled to support this blog by actually buying this song.

Albert Collins & The Icebreakers--I Got That Feeling

It was sometime around 1984 on a cold winter's night in Minneapolis when I cajoled some of my fraternity brothers into breaking with their typically lame pop music and go hear the real thing. I know I was asking a lot of my brothers to give up of their evening of listening to Men Without Hats singing, "The Safety Dance" but, damn it, I just bought a copy of Albert's "Frozen Alive" album and I wasn't going to settle for the same boring scene.

So I take them to The Union Bar (coincidentally the same bar where the "Frozen Alive" album was recorded) and we find a table. We get a couple beers into us and one of my frat brothers makes some crack like, "This better be good." I think I responded with, "Up yours."

As soon as the exchange ended, The Icebreakers took the stage. They started right into it with a low-down blues kind of the like the one you are about to hear. They are barely thirty seconds into the instrumental when my smartass frat brother leans over to me and shouts, "This is awesome!"

A sense of pride washed through me. Anyway, below is a cool low-down blues called "I Got That Feeling." It is from the "Frozen Alive" album. This album probably won't make it on Rolling Stone's list of top Blues albums, but what do they know. This is a must have for anyone wanting to hear true Chicago-like blues music. This album has several great songs including "Frosty" and a funky bastard called "Cold Cuts" featuring the incomparable Johnny B. Gayden on bass guitar.

I hope I didn't hype it too much.

Hey fellows, I'm honest when I say that I've played this song at party's and contrary to what I would have expected, some of my female guests actually liked it. So I suggest you buy it. In fact, I think you should buy the whole album.