With the return of bike-riding weather comes the everlasting quest to make my iPod workout mix peppy and interesting. The thing about iPods is, everybody’s is different. Mine motivates me to never, ever get hit by a car, and leave the police to treat it as a piece of evidence. I don’t want my loved ones to have to claim it among my blood-spattered personal effects, and have everyone in the property room nudge one another and whisper, “Look! That’s the one that has ‘How Much is That Doggy in the Window’ and the Guess Who medley!”
Yes, the Guess Who medley. At the library today I picked up “The Ultimate Collection,” three whole discs of Canada’s finest ’70s pop band, if you rank Bachman Turner Overdrive in the rock category. Three whole discs? Yes. Once you get past “American Woman,” “Undun” and “No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature,” what is there? Plenty, it seems. “Runnin’ Back to Saskatoon,” for instance.
Yeah, that one never cracked the charts stateside. The bridge goes, This tune is home grown/Don’t come from Hong Kong Like he needed to tell us.
In the radio biz, you hear different stories about Canadian content — the famous…is it a law? Or a guideline? Or does it only pertain to CBC stations? Help me out here, Canadians. Anyway, the Canadian-content maybe-law dictates that a certain percentage of the stuff on Canadian radio and TV come from Canada. Some people say it killed CKLW’s pop-monolith radio presence; there’s only so much Gordon Lightfoot to go around. Others say AM was doomed as soon as FM radio became standard in new cars. Whatever. All I know is, if you want fast info on Canadian music, you can’t beat CanEHdian.com.
Personally, I enjoy our sleeping giant to the, um, south. (Yes, south, to a Detroiter. You could look it up.) They make a nice beer there.
Another scorcher today. Why bother showering? I get up, exercise, shower, take the time to put on makeup and dress myself in clean clothing, step outside and undo the whole last hour. I think tomorrow I’m going to embrace my funk. What’s so bad about an earthy smell, anyway? The other night I surfed past “What’s Love Got to Do With It?” and fell in love with Ike Turner briefly — he’s hectoring Tina to do a better job with her “Nutbush City Limits” vocal, and tells her, “Better put some stank on it!”
No one ever asks you to take the stink away.
So don’t stop by tomorrow. I’ll be putting some stank on it.