Monday morning, what was everyone talking about? Why, The Sopranos, and the shitstain, half-assed ending that prompted one woman to say live on CNN Headline News from New Jersey that she felt she had “wasted the last eight years” of her life. Right on, sister. The cut-to-black technique pissed me off, too, but there was one redeeming factor in the final episode: Journey.
That’s right. I said it. Journey. “Don’t Stop Believin’.” There are five songs that inevitably make me cry, and that’s one of them. In the interest of full disclosure, please understand that I was born in 1979. By 1981, when this song was released, my mother was one hot rock mama, sporting a sport yellow 1977 Camaro (to match her long blonde hair), pure muscle car with chrome pipes, glass pack mufflers and a spoiler that made the car look almost as though it was bent over to get fucked from behind. The first song I distinctly remember hearing on the radio was Jethro Tull’s “Aqualung.” The second? “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Because I loved that car, and because I love my mom, it only follows logically that I love this song. I love it like Elvis loved a prescription refill.
After the Sopranos appearance, I’ve spent the last 36 hours listening to this song almost constantly, and rediscovering it has felt like the kind of serendipitous luck of finding a $20 bill in the pocket of an old favorite pair of jeans. Unfortunately, all of the people around me are pretty well fucking sick of it, and tell the truth, I’ve had about enough of Steve Perry’s poofy warbling, too. It’s only fitting, however, that we should all enjoy it together. You know, “hold on to that feeling” a little. In honor of, well, the honor of getting serious play in The Sopranos, here’s a straight-up blitz of clips featuring one of our most deliciously guilty-pleasure power ballads, and now’s a good time to thank your personal god that nothing has so far caused me to get sentimental about Hall & Oates, because I have no shame and you’d really be miserable. Aaaayye can’t go for that. NoOoOo. No can do.
Here it is, the final scene from The Sopranos. This is what kicked the whole thing off for me. Read a bunch of mystical esoteric symbolism into it or not, but this is the bug that bit me, turning the last two days of my life into an All Cock Rock Block of straight Journey.
This is the original, a live recording from 1981, the year Journey’s rock-tastic record Escape was released. It’s a little quick-tempoed for my tastes, but I am so loving Steve Perry’s stylish jacket and tight jeans, which show of his lovely package of big, delicious, meaty 80’s rocker cock. Let the vocals soar, my friend. I can hear the sound of panties dropping all over the arena.
I know I’ll catch hell for this, but I’m not into Family Guy. I’m a Simpsons girl all the way, but I’ve even got to admit that this might be one of the best karaoke renditions I’ve ever seen. Peter, Quagmire, Joe and that other guy, whatshisname– Cleveland, that’s it– sure enough sing the hell out of it. Still not as good at when Homer when to rock camp, but whatever. Not everyone can be perfect.
Remember when Monster came out and you and your buddies were all like, Charlize Theron and Christina Ricci as killer lesbians? Right on! And then you saw the movie and finally managed a sip of Sprite and some saltines three days later? Yeah. Still, the song remains, with all of that hopeful optimism. This in couple skate!
Scrubs! Zach Braff singing (be still, my little Jewish heart)! Dolphins! JOURNEY!
Blue Man Group. If you had an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters and they saw an infinite number of off-Broadway shows featuring an infinite number of blue-painted people banging on an infinite number of PVC pipes, eventually, William Shakespeare would sing, “A singer in a smokey room; a smell of wine and cheap perfume; for a smile they can share the night, it goes on and on and on and on…”
You bet your ass it goes on and on.
BONUS TRIVIA: There’s no such place as South Detroit. Motownies call the south side Downriver.
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