Thursday, August 13, 2009

Don't Touch That Thing or Pandora is Whoa! Interesting!

So, I have a Pandora station for River Deep, Mountain High. I loves me my Ike & Tina. Well, let's be real here. I loves me my Tina. Ike was a disturbed man. And, in a lucid moment Phil made sure that Ike didn't perform on the song, nor was he allowed to visit the studio. He did, however, receive credit on the Dennis Hopper designed cover. Dennis was preparing to be Easy Rider High as we see here:

Alledgedly Pandora confabs with the music genome project to find songs with similar attributes.

So then, Pandora, how does this work? River Deep, Mountain High -beautifully, majestically, overly orchestrated by that crazy lady-killer Phil Spector brings us logically to Sylvia Hall's Don't Touch That Thing from the album Cult Cargo: Grand Bahama Goombay.


Because it features a Bahamian woman singing? Whoa! Tina's from Nutbush, Tennessee.

The song repeats this unforgettable chorus:

Don’t touch that thing, your momma’s gonna know.
Don’t touch that thing, your momma’s gonna know.
How’s your momma gonna know? You’re belly’s gonna show.

Endlessly. I can not forget it. Once heard, this song owns you.

Not a violin in sight. No soaring "Do I love you? My oh my!"Interesting.

That "thing"you are not suppose to touch is a penis, dear reader. Honest.

A blog review, at the Washington Post ( here I use italics to indicate surprise. For news-conscious Americans, there are so few dependable sources. I count 4- the BBC, C-SPAN, the New York Times, and the Washington Post, but the Post has a problem, so maybe not the Post. After finding this review affiliated with their paper I can say we have 2 strikes, 2 outs, and no one on base. It's that close.), refers to the song this way:

"There are a few dozen compilations on the label that could serve as a perfect summer mixtape, so picking just one song is a tough task. But this slice of Funky Nassau from "Cult Cargo: Grand Bahama Goombay" was the first one that came to mind. This song just oozes sun, warmth and the carefree attitude that goes -- or at least should go -- with summer. It's got a meaningless sing-along chorus and a beat that never stops. "

Um, really? "Oozes sun, warmth, and a carefree attitude"? "Meaningless sing-along chorus"? Wait. For realz?

Let's pause. Now breathe. O.K.

Dudes are odd.
Forgive me, but I am going to just call this one: the reviewer at the Post is a dude. I know dudes. I even made one myself. Lovely creatures in possession of "that thing" we are not suppose to touch. Yet so very odd.

Most woman would hear a cautionary tale on this track...about not touching penises...Duh. And then, they would wonder about Sylvia. Did she ever touch one? If so, did her Mama know. If not, well yee haw for self- or birth control correctly applied to the encounter! Not exactly a breezy summertime theme for a song. Unless getting knocked up is your idea of summertime.

"Don't Touch That Thing" celebrates (here the italics are ironic) the fear and chronic worry experienced by every fertile heterosexual female at some point in her life. Because, let's face it, that day comes along sister when you feel compelled to touch that thing (no really, it does happen) and yet, always, Sylvia's words of wisdom ring in your mind. Even if you've never heard her sing them to you. Which is a sad thought for me because she sings a unique and memorable, I fear unforgettable, song. Even if you are in the mood to be a mama. It gives you pause. The whole sex , life, and death thing. The implications should you lose control or consciously decide to touch that thing. It's deep.

It is not, however, River Deep, Mountain High.

You can read another review of the compilation here. All this to prove my point.

River Deep, Mountain High is unlike any other song. There is no comparison. It is singular. Bold and dramatic. An orgasmic frenzy of orchestrated bliss. And complete. And I love it.

Thanks for keeping me wondering, dancing, and ovulating Pandora! As we are such new friends, I am sure this is but the first of many mind-bending encounters. The tip of the iceberg as it were.

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