To high school, that is. (Cheers for the class of ’77, anyone? Anyone?)

Gino Vannelli — I hadn’t heard a peep about him in years, and suddenly, he’s on the Sirius “70s on 7” station on my way home from rehearsal last night. Wow. Anyone else remember him? He was all the rage for about three years or so, then he vanished. Honestly — he was there, then he was nowhere.

Man, did I ever sing along with these…

I Just Wanna Stop

Living Inside Myself

The Wheels of Life

People Gotta Move

He was, in many respects, the hipper alternative to Barry Manilow (and I liked Barry OK, too); a dark and handsome crooner with a progressive sound — I’d say halfway between the schmaltz of Barry and the R & B sound of Michael McDonald. I loved listening to him, and I can’t believe I went years without thinking about him. And now that I think of him, I say BoomR would sound fantastic on his stuff. Got any Gino in your rep, luvy?

I checked out his site, and he has a decidedly different sound now. But who doesn’t, 35 years down the road, ja?

Shout if you remember Gino and his incredibly tight slacks. Haha, ouch…

The Thriller surprised me yesterday by bringing home Paul McCartney’s new album. Wow! He’s the greatest (the Thriller, I mean — well, Paul too, but…)

Silly pun in the title notwithstanding*, this is a serious project. Lots of pop/rock singers do it at some point in their careers: make an album of standards. These are, according to the liner notes, many of the songs McCartney grew up listening to and singing along with at what he calls “family sing-songs” during his youth. And, true to his longstanding reputation as a relentless showman and shrewd artist, he surrounded himself with major league heavy hitters: Eric Clapton, John Pizzarelli, Diana Krall, Stevie Wonder, and some amazing studio players. Light strings here and there for icing purposes, but otherwise it’s just Paul and a rhythm section. Good choice.

Cleveland-born Tommy LiPuma produced, adding to his impressive litany of Grammy-winning home runs from the likes of Miles Davis, Barbra Streisand, Diana Krall, Natalie Cole and George Benson. Sounds like a shoo-in for at least a nomination at the end of the year. So here’s my take, after listening to it twice.

Let’s get this said: Paul is no jazz singer, and he’s a marginal crooner. Therefore, a couple of the songs just didn’t work. As flawlessly produced as the record is, you still can’t escape a poor musical fit, and those do happen. “More I Cannot Wish You” and “Always” are forgettable. “Paper Moon” is also weak, but Paul’s somewhat clumsy vocals are rescued in fine style by the band, featuring amazing violinist/singer Andy Stein (listen to him here on his own album, doing “Fit as a Fiddle”).

One song in particular, however, lets Paul be Paul. Listening to the bluesy track, “Get Yourself Another Fool,” I found myself thinking, “Ah, here’s the voice we all know and love.” The reserve and control employed throughout the other songs dissipates here, and we get more of a Wings feel. Not “Oh, Darlin'” by any means, but he seems to loosen his necktie just a bit.

So, it’s a careful recording (in his defense, he admits to feeling intimidated by all the jazz players and singers in the studio), but a pleasant listen and a fantastic effort, considering the guy will be 70 years old this June and is still touring and going at it like his hair’s on fire.

I hope I’m like that, 18 years from now.

OK, what’s up for you this weekend? I did another Comfort Foodie post last night — wow, delicioso. Tonight, we have the Js, and tomorrow is movie-and-dinner-date time with the Thriller. Monday? The Grease rehearsal schedule officially begins. Here we go…

*While it’s hard to believe McCartney didn’t foresee the snickering it would cause, the punny album title does make sense. The opening track, “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter,” references finishing a love note by drawing “kisses on the bottom.”

…you only need go as far as your nearest music-playing contraption.

Recently, one of my students told me he didn’t know who James Taylor was. Is. Well we can’t have that. So last night, I took a break from all the craziness, called up the 60+ JT tunes off my hard drive, and made him a “mixtape.” The hardest part was deciding which 20 or so to choose.

As I spent the better part of two hours listening and reliving countless memories, I was reminded of why I contend that he is one of the greatest storytellers of my generation — if not the greatest.

While his 1992 New Moon Shine project is my all-time favorite album of stories, there are a dozen songs that easily rank at the top of the “awesome” list. His lyrics know no convention; it’s impossible to pigeonhole him, which I think is fantastic.

From recalling a lost love…

Took a fall from a windy height;
I only knew how to hold on tight
And pray for love enough to last all night (Copperline, New Moon Shine)

To great personal loss…

Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone.
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you. (Fire and Rain, Sweet Baby James)

To taking quiet delight in a special love…

If I’m feeling down and blue, or troubled by some foolish game;
She always seems to make me change my mind (Something in the Way She Moves, James Taylor)

To clever wordplay…

Don’t be leavin’ me now;
Believe in me now (Only One, That’s Why I’m Here)

…it’s magic.

Having read much about him (most recently in this book), I believe he can tell great stories because he’s known profound joy, sorrow and internal struggle. He spent time in a psychiatric hospital on more than one occasion, did his share of living carelessly, and lost himself in drug addiction. Having come out alive on the other side, he has all the more reason to tell tales — and lucky for us, he’s an incredibly talented singer and guitar player as well.

So choose any one of his albums, or just go to Pandora or Spotify, and lose yourself for an hour or so.

Hmm, two nostalgic music posts in as many days. What does this mean, Yoda?

OK, this is going to take some of us a long way back. And seeing as how I’ve been up since 2 a.m., I’m in the writing mood to tell you about it.

Yesterday, while listening to the 60s station on Sirius radio on the way home from school, I heard an old classic by The Cowsills, called “The Rain, the Park, and Other Things.” I was immediately lost in memories. The lyrics knocked me out, even as an elementary school student. The song tells of a young man who encounters a beautiful girl at a park during a rainstorm. When the rain stops and the sun breaks through, she disappears, leaving him with only a single flower from her hair. I loved the romance of it — still do. Here’s a clip from it.

Wow. First of all, the song is beautifully sung: in tune, with gorgeous harmonies and impressive style — especially since these were teenagers and their mom. I remember seeing them on some variety show when I was about nine years old, and wishing like heck I could be Susan (the youngest, who is my age). It looked like such amazing fun, fronting a band of older boys, and holding a tambourine. Here is an absolutely delightful video from the Johnny Cash Show in 1969. (“Monday, Monday” was lazily lip-synched, but fabulous nonetheless.) I wanted desperately to stand up there and dance and sing like Susan.

Their family story is both wonderful and tragic. They were the inspiration for what later became the Partridge family of TV fame. The Cowsills were approached first by producers to star in a sitcom about a musical family, but they wanted Shirley Jones to play the part of the mom instead of Barbara, the children’s real mother. Bud Cowsill, patriarch and also the group’s manager, balked, and refused to let the kids do it.

They went on to have several memorable hits after “The Rain, the Park…” Two of my favorites are “Indian Lake” (arguably about the lake of the same name in Logan County, Ohio — they were from Canton) and “Hair,” their risky 1969 break from bubblegum, which went straight to #1. And did you know they also sang the theme to the popular — and then quite racy — 70s sitcom, Love, American Style? (I watched it every chance I got, when my parents weren’t around.)

But time marched on, and they ended up going their separate ways. A couple of them have died, as have the parents Bud and Barbara. Most notable was the death of Barry Cowsill, who drowned during Hurricane Katrina. The last words his family heard from him before he went missing were recorded on his sister’s answering machine as the storm bore down on New Orleans:

“I don’t know how to get out of town, except to wait for a bus,” he said. Then, “I’ve been so…lonely. I hope I get in touch with you.”

So very sad. Barry’s badly decomposed body washed up on a wharf four months later.

Apparently, Susan has kept performing through the years, and is quite active in the New Orleans Americana music scene.

Do any of you remember The Cowsills? Bet ya do.

Yesterday, while listening to Sirius Radio’s “70s on 7” channel in the car, I heard what I think might be one of the worst pop songs ever: “Deanie” by Shaun Cassidy. No joke. Melody went all over the place, cloying lyrics…Lawd.

So, help me add to the list here. What are the absolute worst pop songs you’ve ever heard? Here are the rules:

1. The songs on your list can be rotten for any reason (ugly melody, stupid lyrics, annoying singer, etc.)
2. Let’s not include songs that you originally liked, but were played to the point of you wanting to shoot yourself. Like, say, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” for instance. I liked it when it first aired, but after the millionth time…
3. Stick to hits. For instance, “Friday” by Rebecca Black is a really bad song, but it didn’t hit the Top 40 charts. It was more of a meme than a song, actually.

So here we go.  Ready, steady, list!

Worst Pop Hits of All Time
(In No Particular Order)

• Lady Lady Lay – Bob Dylan <–in the top five of my list of Most Overrated Artists Ever (but that’s another post)
• Burnin’ Love – Elvis Presley (“a hunk-a hunk-a”…really?)
• Little Willy – The Sweet
• Havin’ My Baby – Paul Anka
• Babe – Styx (please, please, PLEASE, fuh cripesake, transpose it down a minor third)
• Playground in My Mind – Clint Holmes (look it up, seriously)
• Dance Hall Days – Wang Chung
• Lean On Me – Club Nouveau (not because of the song, but because the singers and producer hadn’t a righteous clue what “that’s a quarter-step sharp” means)
• Safety Dance – Men Without Hats
• Sweet Child of Mine – Guns ‘N Roses
• Escape (The Pina Colada Song) – Rupert Holmes
• Seasons in the Sun – Terry Jacks
• I Would Do Anything For Love – Meatloaf (sorry, he’s just bad)
• Time Passages – Al Stewart
• Mmm, Mmm, Mmm, Mmm – Crash Test Dummies (yes, boys, you sound like James Hetfield, now go away)
• If I Could Turn Back Time – Cher
• Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep – Middle of the Road (I am not making this up)
• It’s a Heartache – Bonnie Tyler

Truthfully, I could list hundreds. But I don’t want to spoil anyone else’s fun. Gofrit!