Last night I got an email from my Dad that said: “Stop following the Mets. From now on, act like you were born in California.” He sent this message because he is as frustrated with the Mets as I am and he’s right, I should give up, because they have absolutely no heart. They appear to take the losses in stride and if they don’t care, why should I? This will probably last we week at which point they will win two straight and pull me back in but for now I hope they disband the team and forfeit the rest of the season. Editors Note: On a related note, check out this awesome post.
I knew the Mets sucked before I got the email from my dad so it didn’t convince me to change anything but it did manage to make me incredibly homesick. I’ve lived in Los Angeles since 1999. I came here by way of a town on Long island that you’ve almost certainly never heard of. Today, missing home I started looking up people from my high school on Facebook and I found several. Then I tried to look for news from my hometown and couldn’t find much so I went into my own blog archives to see what I had said about the place. I mention it a lot, search the archives for yourself and see but I also found something I had forgotten, a post about my hometown and music that I had completely forgotten about. So, courtesy of the way back machine…
Reclaiming rock and roll for my hometown.
When people ask where I’m from I say New York and it’s a lie, because it implies I grew up in the city. I didn’t. I grew up 30 miles west of New York city, in a town called Copiague which despite it’s geographic proximity to the island of Manhattan is a million miles away in the mind. It was suburbia, albeit a ragged and dirty version of it in the heart of Long Island and it’s a town that was almost important once.
I was born there in 1974 which also happened to be the worst year ever in recorded music history. The number one song in Copiague and the rest of the world that year was Benny and the Jets (admitedly not so bad) but number two was Grand Funk Railroad’s Loco Motion which is as enjoyable as listening to your parents having sex. It was a bad music year that just missed being a good one. You see, Here Come the Warm Jets, which is a brilliant record was released at the end of 1973 and sold roughly 14 copies at the time. Blood on the Tracks came out in early 1975 and was an instant classic, either of these would have been enough to make the year respectable but they just missed. It gets worse though because Long Island’s own Billy Joel was unfortunately not hit by a train that year and continued his assault on our ears and sensibilities throughout the year. (Side note : Look no one in the history of drinking has EVER ordered a tonic & gin, it’s gin & tonic, yet in the song Piano Man he gets it wrong. OK I feel better having said that)
I’ve probably stated in this forum many times already how my dislike for Mr. Joel gets me flack back home. Long Island is proud of Billy as it should be, he’s done good for himself and proved that no matter how bland and ugly you are you can make it big because lots of people are suckers when it comes to entertainment.
It’s not fair, Minneapolis has more than their fair share of legendary musicians, Athens, Georgia has the well known REM but also the lesser known Pylon. Those are great places but I’d take my home town over them in a fight any day. We got bitchin’ Camaros, bad accents and big hair. Why not a better musical legacy?
Well, actually we do have a great musical legacy but it never gets mentioned so I’d like to set the record straight on my hometown and point out that two things; first Public Enemy was formed on Long Island and as if that wasn’t enough three of the four members of the Velvet Underground also called it home. If you want to get technical all of the Ramones were from the island too but we’ll give Forest Hills the benefit of the doubt and call part of the city. Still I’ll take 3/4 of the Velvet Underground and Public Enemy and be happy. My Flavor Flav comemorative clock necklace says it’s getting close to my bedtime and now I can sleep easier having gotten this off of my chest.
2 things:
1. When you give up on the Mets, the Yankees have won, and no one wants that. Not even Satan. He also hates the Yankees. It’s a fact. Both Heaven and Hell hate the Yankees. The only fan? Cthulu.
2. Billy Joel is a God. You, good sir, are a blasphemer. You may be right. I may be crazy. But it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.
Oh yeah, and FUCKPANTS!
That Billy Joel quote is the clubhouse leader for both best and worst comment of the week.
Forest Hills is considered part of Queens. Queens is on Long Island.
Though not famous for music, we’ve got Meadow Soprano, who took acting lessons with my next-door neighbors and of course, Amy Fisher. And me.
I secretly love ‘Big Shot’.
There. I said it. And I feel better having done so. The rest of the Joel catalog sucks balls, though.
He didn’t order a tonic and gin, he made love to his tonic and gin. Has anyone ever done that? Is that the grown man version of 100% Cheap Sex? These are the questions for our times.
I was born in 1977 and have no idea what the hit songs were that year.
P.S. I forgot to mention LL Cool J, also from Queens. And don’t forget our local bubblegum, Debbie Gibson, who gave my friend piano lessons, and Tiffany.
Was Tiffany from Long Island too? I don’t think she was. If only someone would invent a machine or a series of interconnected information sources (I call it the Intersource) that I could use to research this.
I used my soop’r-sekrit c’nktns in the national security industry to discover that Tiffany is, in fact, from LA. But she invented the mall tour, and kicked it off in Paramus, New Jersey. Since I’m from Wyoming, I can safely say that everything east of the Mississippi is New York, and since Long Island is in New York, Paramus, New Jersey is also on Long Island.
*Chia pauses to consider whether she should explain that she does, in fact, know that New York and New Jersey are separate states, and that Paramus has nothing to do with Long Island*
And as for Mr. Joel – tonic and gin scans better. Also, the image reminds me of my favorite dive bar in San Francisco, which doesn’t have a piano (though it used to have an old black blues musician with fingers so long he could only have been a piano player), and where I’ve never actually seen anyone drinking a gin and tonic, but where I did once see a sad-eyed old drunk slobbering into his non-alcoholic beer.
I am going to order a “tonic & gin” this weekend, and that’s a promise.
Lara – I hope the bartender refuses to serve you. I expect a report on this.
P.S. do not make love to your tonic & gin. He will not call you back.
Re you’re Billy Joel stance: You’ll get no flack from me. Not even Roberta.
Nice post. Again.
Seriously, nice post. Made me homesick myself.
Blue Oyster Cult! First band to use an umlaut!
Nice call Media Concepts – The members of BOC met at SUNY Stonybrook, where I also went. I did not fear the reaper.