Everyone’s a music critic, eh?

Since it’s Friday night and I’m supposed to be laying out ads on next week’s page dummies, it’s perfectly logical that I’ve decided to pull out my discs of shared files and put together a couple of hours’ music to make it all tolerable.

Some golden oldies I’d forgotten I had . . . .

“Girl from Ipanema Goes to Greenland” – God love the B-52’s. Where else are you gonna find something with a good dance beat that stands Astrud Gilberto on her head?

And “Photograph” by Astrud Gilberto – I’ll be honest. Once I was sitting in the Penny Lane Pub in Richmond, Virginia (the only place in Richmond where you can get warm beer, bump your head on the ceiling, get lard-fried fish and chips, get insulted by the publican – a good Liverpudlian to boot – and get a big plate of bangers and mash for a decent price), the proprietor put on an Astrud Gilberto CD and I rediscovered that she could actually make some moldy standards pretty tolerable when one has already had 10 pints of Guinness.

“Another Park, Another Sunday” - While many of my generation think “Blackwater” is the best Doobie Brothers song ever made, I still remember hearing this one at the tender age of 8 or 9 and thinking ‘gee, what a thoroughly depressing song but what a great melody.” Never hear it played on so-called album rock or oldies stations over here any more, though.

A whole slew of Donald Fagen – Why in hell is everyone in love with Michael Buble’ when half of Steely Dan has written, produced and sung some of the best damn jazz and torch songs of the last 30 years? Do yourself a favor – steal a copy of “The Nightfly” or “Kamikiriad” and listen to a few tracks.

“Tunnel of Love” – probably the best song that Bruce Springsteen ever did, and the one you hear the least of.

Okay, I’ve got a bit of Brian Ferry stowed away too. But even as a goofy damned teenager, I figured out on the most basic level that a Roxy Music or Steely Dan album was gonna impress the girls a lot quicker than a KISS or Aerosmith album would. I was right too - I never got my copy of “Aja” or “Siren” back. And when my son goes to his prom, I’m going to have to explain to him just how swave and deboner a white dinner jacket and black pants really are.

And then there was all the Barry Gray stuff I ‘collected.” Let me tell you; all my contemporaries walk around thinking that the them from “Scooby Doo, Where Are You” is high-class nostalgia, but it doesn’t begin to touch the theme from “Thunderbirds.”

Okay, I must really be on a low-blood sugar bender here. Time for some ice tea.