I drive an old car. The CD player is non-existent and the cassette player doesn't work. I listen to the radio. More often than not (sports talk radio in Cleveland is rather depressing, as you can guess) I'm tuned into WMJI, Majic 105.7, the oldies station. And a fine oldies station it is, especially during afternoon drive-time when the inestimable Don "Action" Jackson is spinning the platters. Anyway, a few months ago, when I heard "Already Gone" by the Eagles for like the millionth time, I was struck by a really lame line in the song. I thought to myself that someday I could blog about it, preferably (and appropriately) when the inspiration was wanting. Well, I believe the week between Christmas and New Year's is International Inspiration Wanting week, so what the hell.
Unfortunately, I've hit a few snags this morning. For one thing, the new gizmo I've been using to allow you readers the pleasure of listening to my musical selections at the click of a mouse is Super Cop when it comes to copyright issues. It won't even let me upload a tune if there's a question. Why I can't simply play a song, not enable downloading, is beyond me, but if you're intelligent enough to be reading spitoutyourgum, I'm sure you can hum the tune yourself (if not, turn on any oldies station; "Already Gone" is bound to be played within fifteen minutes).
More depressing, in my assiduous research I discovered that "Already Gone" (a #32 hit in 1974) was not written by either of the two Eagle/egos (Glenn Frey's or Don Henley's) I had counted on delighting in pricking these past few months. No, the song in question was written by Jack Tempchin and Robert Arnold Strandlund (clue number one: if you had a middle name like Arnold would you be one of those people who insist on including it for official business?). Tempchin, who merits his own Wiki page (and you'll have to google it all by yourself) also wrote (solo) the Eagles' "Peaceful Easy Feeling" and "Slow Dancin' (Swayin' to the Music)" which became a hit for ubiquitous Oldies chameleon Johnny Rivers.
But to my beef: The song begins
Well, I heard some people talkin' just the other day
And they said you were gonna put me on a shelf
But let me tell you I got some news for you
And you'll soon find out it's true
And then you'll have to eat your lunch all by yourself
I actually kind of like the "put me on a shelf" image, cliched though it may be. In this nasty, "parting of the ways" song, the image of somebody with a shelf full of exes is a nice touch. But My God, "and then you'll have to eat your lunch all by yourself"? Come on. The Top 40 is always littered with insipid lines, but this has got to be the worst line in any hit song (and, I will admit, not a half bad song overall: for once an Eagles' song semi-rocks, the vengeful breaking up song is always ripe for revisiting, and as much as I kind of detest Glenn Frey, I'm a bit of a sucker for his "woo hoo hoo, my my, woo hoo hoo"). First of all, what's so bad about eating your lunch all by yourself? Millions of people do it daily, Big Whoop, as we liked to say on the playground in 1974. Is this the extent of the now ex-lovers' amorous doings, eating lunch together? What is this, a fourth grader's song? I'm sure we've all heard this lament from a recently jilted lover: "How are you doing since that bastard broke up with you?" "Lousy, I have to eat my lunch all by myself, every day." I don't know, maybe I'm missing something. Maybe "eating lunch together" is some sort of romantic code phrase for something kinkier. Who knows? In 1974 I was a wee midwestern boy on the outside barely peeking into puberty; who was I to know what exotic delights those SoCal glitterati could make out of "eating lunch together"? "Hey, dude, how are things going with you and that hot chick?" "Excellent, man, we're, you know, 'eating lunch together' like, five times a day."
The trouble is, Mssrs. Tempchin and Arnold Strandlund kind of painted themselves into a corner with that shelf word. Believe me, in my original conception of this post, I envisioned re-writing the line a few dozen better ways (fully cognizant of the fact that to offer a lyrical tweak to a thirty-six-year-old hit song would be kind of pointless, but "kind of pointless" is the raison d'etre of blogging, so I might as well drop some raisons), but upon further reflection this morning, I realized that if you want to rhyme "shelf," you're pretty much committed to some variant of -self. Although I think the substitute line "and then you'll have to call somebody else your little elf" could be sung, and really opens up some connotative possibilities for the song (and, duh, is light years better than the lunch line). But fine, stick with the idea of "and then you'll have to ______ all by yourself" motif. Anything, floss your teeth, do the crossword, find a third for a threesome, clean the grout, make breakfast, wait in line at the BMV, return your Christmas presents, lift the toilet seat, turn the dial when the Eagles come on--anystupidthing would be more evocative, more vengeful, more, well, better, than "eat your lunch."
There, I've got it off my chest, months of angst. Now maybe a few other people will cringe along with me whenever they hear that lousy line in "Already Gone." Victory, though somewhat thwarted, at last. Tune in next week when I'll tell Bob Dylan how to clean up a few of the weaker lines in "Like A Rolling Stone."
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