Beatles

That settles it, folks.

I am now a "mature" male, and I see our society free-falling into a pedestrian netherworld of despair.

I know this because I saw American Idol last week and watched the youngest group of singers ever disappoint me, not by their lack of talent, but with utter ignorance to the classics of our past.

Last week's task was to sing the music of The Beatles. Until now, I would have imagined that to be the easiest request for any singer.

Imagine a busker on a street corner says, "What would you like to hear?"

You say, "Hey, do you know any Arcade Fire? No? How about Florence and the Machine?...No?... Alright just play a Beatles song."

It's a given. If you've ever had a piano, guitar, bass, or even oboe lesson, you have learned a Beatles song. If you've ever watched TV, movies, cartoons, or if you've been mentally incapacitated as a result of drug or alcohol abuse, and can now only watch Jersey Shore...you have heard a Beatles song.

If you have ever stood outdoors for any reason, without headphones blocking out that white noise we call "the world", YOU HAVE HEARD THE BEATLES!

Do I sound old?

The day The Beatles broke up, I was being circumcised. No, I wasn't being kinky, I was an infant! (but still I resented Yoko) The point is that The Beatles were not from my time either, but I knew who they were. Do you know why? Because they're the @#$%^& Beatles!

I remember being backstage once with an aspiring artist while we were performing (comedy not music) at The Second City. We were both fooling around with our guitars when I heard something familiar and asked what he was playing. He said, "It's my own. I don't play other people's music."
I said, "What? Like...never?". He replied, "Never".

And just then the cuckoo struck twelve...

Every great musician has played the music of other artists before, during, and after their artistic peaks. Even if you told yourself, as this fellow had, that you wouldn't play the music of others, you would almost inevitably be influenced by something you heard until that point.

And do you know whose music would inevitably pop up?

The @$%^&*^% Beatles!

As far as I am concerned, if you are an aspiring musician, and you don't know one Beatles song, you already suck. You don't have to like their music, but if you don't know any, you just haven't been doing your homework.

Consequently, some of the song choices on last week's show were disappointing. Sure, it's fun to watch 2 cute 20 year old girls sing Can't Buy Me Love, or 3 smiling teens sing what appears to be a Sesame street-inspired version of Hello, Goodbye, but most of the very best Beatles songs were missed entirely.

I take my hat off to Tim Halperin and Julie Zorrilla for singing Something, and Paul McDonald and Kendra Chantelle for a nice rendition of Blackbird, but nobody touched Jacob Lusk, Haley Reinhart, and Naima Adedapo who sang The Long and Winding Road. This song has been a favourite of mine since I heard George Benson cover it, but these 3 just knocked me out. That's 3 of your future top 5 right there, if no one kills Jacob, the drama queen, first.

Either way, if any of you ever have to sing a Beatles song, here are some you might want to try:

While My Guitar Gently Weeps: Google Martin Luther McCoy's version and set your ears on fire.

Nowhere Man: Just a groovy tune with some fun harmonies. The boys were just starting to get high together when they wrote this.

Because: If you have a group of 3 or 4, you can create amazing layers with this outstanding melody. Check out the 90s version sung by the Nylons.

Come Together: This song is so deep that nobody knew what the heck it meant, including the Beatles, but one thing's for sure, Stevie Tyler must have liked it. He covered it with Aerosmith and hardly changed a note.

Oh Darling: The original may not appear spectacular, but in the right hands, this is one rocking tune. Perfect for showcasing raw Rock vocals.

Happiness is a Warm Gun: Probably not a family friendly theme, but tremendous karaoke potential.

Revolution: A terrific song about peaceful protestation of the previous generation's ignorant oppressors and suppressors of new ideas. Or just a groovy tune, man.

A Day in the Life: An odd masterpiece alluding to the fact that their recreational drugs had qualitatively improved by this point.

In My Life: Just a great nostalgia inducer and tear-jerker. Check out Jose Feliciano's unplugged rendition.

Across The Universe: Some of my favourite lyrics of all time, and the title of a very good film using their music.

Strawberry Fields: They were all just ridiculously high at this point, eating Fritos and staring at their own fingers, but splendid imagery and an infectious melody make this a superb choice for listening or singing anytime.

Of course, I can name another hundred, but I leave that to my readers.

For now, get ready to see some very interesting competition during the rest of this season of American Idol.

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What's in a name

A factor that is rarely discussed as determining the music we listen to is the name.

I once wrote an article questioning the name choice of a group called F****d Up that won last year's Polaris prize, and received much feedback saying "Hey, F**k you!", but I guess I had that coming.

The point is that the name is a huge part of the "package".

So in the '90s when the Butthole Surfers were enjoying some marginal rocker success, I was reticent, as were many others to, shall we say, "hop on the Butthole Surfer train".

See? Doesn't sound so good, does it?

Think about it, and you will be forced to admit that you're unlikely to venture deeply into the repertoire of an artist whose name turns you off in some way. I remember a conversation with a young lady in the early '90s, and mentioning Rage Against The Machine, only to have her tell me that she wasn't familiar with them as she didn't listen to "that type of music".

As absurd as that statement was, I knew what she meant. It sounds like angry music. They say "Rage" right there in their name.

Again in the '90s (that crazy decade), The Barenaked Ladies were banned from perfoming at Toronto's New Years Eve Party at Nathan Phillip Square by mayor June Rowlands who, if not for the constant folly of Mel Lastman, would still be the all-time mayoral laughing stock based on that item alone. She later claimed she merely thought the name was sexist. Ahh.... so she banned them for SEXISM? Can you imagine how tough she must have been on crime?

An aquaintance recently asked me to listen to a friend of his who is an outstanding musician, and he couldn't understand why he wasn't as famous as any of the artists out there. I listened just a little and concur that this guy is as good as many I've seen; A true artist with skills beyond the average mortal. One of those guys who lives his music and it shows. His material is interesting and unforced.

His name is Nachum Peterseil.

If you're in the office, please just say that name once more out loud, and it'll be 20 seconds before someone administers the Heimlich maneuver.

For some people it works in reverse. For example, Arnold George Dorsey was a charming singer with limited success until he adopted the name of German opera composer Engelbert Humperdinck as his own stage name. It made people take notice, because you almost always had to say his name twice. "Who?"

"I said, Engelbert Humperdinck."

"Oh."

Here are some other notables:

• Robert Zimmerman would still have been awesome, but would he have become as famous as his alter ego, Bob Dylan?
• Does Reginald Kenneth Dwight sound like someone whose rock concert you'd like to see? Well, neither does Elton John these days, but he's given us some of the best music of the last 4 decades.
• Richard Starkey is alright, but nobody forgets Ringo. His wife Barbara Bach on the other hand... (Bond girl - Spy Who Loved Me)
• Joan Marie Larkin sounds like some whiny, backwoods country singer, but don't tell that to Joan Jett of Runaways and Blackhearts fame. She might just kick your ass.
• If someone tries to set you up on a blind date with Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, don't assume she's a freak until after you find out it's Lady Gaga.
• William Michael Albert Broad sounds like some ivy league rich kid with a family crest to the left of the gold buttons on his navy blazer, but Billy Idol was far from that.
• Gordon Summer sounds more like a Miami time share salesman than an artist named "Sting".
• LaDonna Adrian Gaines would have just thrown people off. It's much simpler to turn to your child and say, "The woman masturbating on stage is Donna Summer."
• When the cop arresting you for being drunk and disorderly after trashing a hotel room following a menage a trois, asks for your name, John Michael Osbourne is just too much to remember. "Ozzy" is much easier.
• Saul Hudson sounds like a guy that's playing bridge with my grandma in Boca Raton. "Slash", on the other hand.... is probably playing bridge with my grandma in Boca Raton.

My last word of advice to all the parents-to-be out there: Devote ample attention to what you name your child for it may shape their future prematurely.

If your last name is Bowie, please don't name your child "Zowie". Even if you are high Mr. and Mrs. Marley, you don't name your kid "Ziggy". And for heaven's sake, no matter what your last name is Mr. Zappa, do NOT name your daughter "Moon-Unit"!

Stay in school kids.

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Little Kids. Big Stage.

They call it Beiber Fever, but I don't care if it's Miley Cyrus-itis, Hillary Duff-arrhea, Taylor Swift-philis, Katy Perry-tonitis, or Charice Pempengc-iosis. It's all the same to me. Precocious youngsters with just enough talent to feed those greedy entertainment pimps who peddle the promise that everyone can live the dream.

We watch with amazement this "Cirque du so-lame", denying interest at first, until we're caught off-guard, singing along to "You make me feel like I'm livin' a Teenage dream...". I call that my Britney Spears moment. The instance that your actions inadvertently confess your guilty pleasure and you have no choice but to own it. Yes, you like it, you are not ashamed, and you stand pointing at the hypocrites silently saying, "J'accuse!", because you know they like it too.

Therein lies the monster in the shadows. This is the eye of the hurricane where everything seems dandy while chaos revolves all around you. That brief moment when we love to be entertained by the talented dancing monkeys. We are all supportive fans, until paparazzi snaps a shot of them doing jello shots out of Lindsay Lohan's navel while the Olsen twins throw spitballs at Dakota Fanning.

It's no secret to my readers that I like me some Christina Aguilera. I have no idea from what depraved bowels of my brain this attraction emerged. It just is what it is, but at least she has matured, honed her talent to excellence, and claimed her rightful place atop the decades most desirables.

What annoys us most is watching little children pretend to be adults like all children, only guess what? These kids are serious. Your kids put on your clothes, maybe a fake moustache, and play house,or doctor, or... Mergers & Aquisitions (I grew up in a Jewish home), but when we call them to dinner, the game's over.

Tell your kid to make their bed, and they don't ask you to put it in writing so that their lawyer can look it over and come up with a counter-proposal. I would pay to hear Justin Beiber's response to his mom telling him to clean his room. Scratch that. I don't want to know.

Truth be told though, this is not new. Children are the ideal exploitees. They love the attention, are scarcely introspective, and can be bought off with a toy and lollipop, but they eventually grow up, and almost always grow tedious. No problem though. They are usually quite easily discarded after graduating from re-hab.

Every era has a Shirley Temple, or Rodney Allen Rippy Jr. , but here's a brief list of kids who were huge singing stars by the age of 13. See if you recognize any of them:

Donny Osmond - age 4
Michael jackson - age 5
Janet Jackson - age 7
Usher - age 11
LeAnn Rimes - age 11
Stevie Wonder - age 12
Charlotte Church - age 12
Frankie Lymon - age 13
...and most recently, operatic prodigy, Jackie Evancho - age 10.

So I guess my guilty pleasure "du jour" might just be one of these kids. I mean, if you ignore the fact that Hannah Montana now has boobs, and a spooky come-hither stare that I pray is something she picked up in acting class, then why can't I enjoy it?

I didn't want to listen. I resisted a long time, but hey, these songs are catchy, and sometimes I just find that I can feel it in my head like ...Yeah. Next thing you know, I can feel it in my hips like...Yeah.
And the Miley song was on. And the Miley song was on.

Don't fight it. Let it go. Tomorrow, there'll be someone new to annoy you further. Enjoy today.