Linda's Theme

Bennett Media goes WRESTLING!

Back in the 1980s, the stereotype was that televised Wrestling was mostly embraced by Rednecks and Trailer Trash. That might've been unfair, but in my experience it was entirely true; a lotta the kids I knew who were considerably less fortunate than I really seemed to embrace it as part of their personality. Then in the 90s, the appeal seemed to grow and integrate more into the mainstream, and suddenly "Big Van Vader" is wrestling Ben Savage on Boy Meets World, and I start to see more t-shirts around school that I don't understand. 

Obviously this isn't a history lesson; everything I've mentioned is just observation mixed with speculation, because it's not like I was just "unaware" of Wrestling... I was actively disinterested - which is just a polite way of saying I didn't like it. I still don't. But I'm preserving politeness because I didn't come here to shit on a most beloved part of Pop Culture. In fact, I'm here to celebrate it (in my own way)! As mentioned, Wrestling and Wrestlers aren't always confined to the ring -- in many cases, they were integral to stuff I liked too. I'd always maintained that I didn't know much about it, but when I started to compile a physical list, I came up with over a dozen examples of Wrestling-related things that I've experienced throughout my life that managed to win me over (or at least hold my interest for the duration). Granted they never tempted me to dive any deeper into the wide world of rasslin' but I'm grateful for these 15 contributions.

- Paul

Suburban Commando

featuring Hulk Hogan

My VHS version of Gremlins 2 did not feature the cameo from The Hulkster (nor did it even contain the alternate Home Video scene with John Wayne either). Nevertheless, Hulk Hogan was everywhere for years before this Science Fiction Action Family film came out in 1991 (or, more specifically, 1992 which is when I probably saw it on tape), but this was my first experience spending any real amount of time with him. Yes, it probably would've been unbearably weak without the presence of Christopher Lloyd, but the chemistry between both of them is undeniable. (Fun Fact: it was written for Schwarzenegger and DeVito, who did Twins instead -- a movie I like considerably less than this one.)

Slim Jim Commercials

featuring Randy "Macho Man" Savage

Macho Man is a good example of my inarticulate approach to wrestlers at that time, which is just a general feeling of "What's this guy's problem?" But Slim Jim knew how to harness and present that hernia-inducing energy and managed to create TV ads that felt like Action Movies. Matched with the fact that I'm a big fan of the product, Mach Man was always alright with me. 

WWF Wrestling Buddies

from Tonka!

Speaking of memorable TV ads! There was nary a commercial break in the early 1990s that didn't include this sales pitch for pillows designed to look like muscular naked men. Thinking of them now makes me aware of another reason for my disinterest in the genre: I really didn't have that little boy urge to beat the shit out of someone. Maybe I was born without that gene, or maybe I just ignored it. Or maybe it was upbringing; I didn't have the kinda dad that would playfully put me in a headlock as a sign of affection. At any rate, these commercials always depicted everything in a very wholesome light, making them feel very non-intrusive during any given episode of DuckTales. 

"Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"

featuring "Captain" Lou Albano

Before his title role in The Super Mario Bros. Super Show and long before his cameo in Stay Tuned, I knew him as Cyndi Lauper's disapproving dad. He'd also pop up in her "Time After Time" video, and also the video for the Goonies song (which actually featured like ten other wrestlers). The Cyndi Lauper/Wrestling connection would baffle me for most of my life, until I read a SPIN Magazine article detailing her manager's love of Wrestling, and the casting of Lou Albano to try to boost Cyndi's fan base. (It worked.) Even still, when the Mario show premiered, my mom recognized him as a wrestler first because, to perpetuate the stereotype, she actually spent some time living in a trailer park in Florida. 

Stripes

Mud Wrestling

I'm including this because a.) this may very well be my real introduction to Wrestling, and b.) I can't seem to compose any list without including Stripes. (In fact, I'm gonna make a tag for it right now.) The concept of physical altercation as sport wasn't totally lost on me at 4 years old but there were definitely elements of this specific activity that were a little confusing - all I knew was that it was exciting when the girls lost their bikinis. Actually, in hindsight, I now realize that I understood everything about this scene as a child. 

Honeycomb Commercial

featuring Andre The Giant

Another supposedly fundamental experience I didn't grow up with was The Princess Bride -- which just means that my one true connection to Andre The Giant is his appearance in a 1989 Honeycomb Cereal commercial that aired hourly right into the 90s. The premise: four kids and a robot are enjoying Honeycomb in their treehouse when they get harassed by a giant who's hungry for cereal. Tensions are high at first, but everyone's shared adoration for the Post Breakfast Cereal prompts singing and camaraderie. Strangely, the Honeycomb was the least alluring detail for me: I thought the treehouse was rad, but more than that, the heavily wooded backyard with rich foliage bathed in late afternoon sunshine wasn't too dissimilar from my own backyard when I was a kid, but it was only that much more lusty when this spot would run in the dead of Winter. 

The Three Stooges

Grips, Grunts, and Groans

In this 1937 Columbia Short, the boys befriend a wrestler named Bustoff. Bustoff is a wreckless party animal who drinks himself into a stupor, prompting Curly to apply a fake beard and pose as him in the ring -- but the Mob has money riding on Bustoff, so Curly had better win (even with some predictably unconventional tactics). For the longest time, this was the only depiction of the lifestyle of a wrestler that I was aware of: the debaucherous midpoint between Babe Ruth and Al Capone. I had to admit, it seemed somewhat inviting. 

They Live

featuring "Rowdy" Roddy Piper

I'm sure I've told this story before but it's pertinent to this list... I was flipping through the channels during some weekend afternoon and I came across "The Fight Scene" on a local cable channel. The beginning of the scene. My mother was there too and neither of us knew what this movie was. After about 5 minutes we were convinced that nothing else was gonna happen in this film except this fight. Obviously the plot finally kicked back into gear and what unfolded blew our minds, but not as blown as halting the pace of an otherwise straightforward narrative so a Pro Wrestler can show off what happens when he runs outta bubblegum. 

Pain & Gain

featuring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson

I sat and I thought. And I thought and I thought. "Is it possible I've never seen a movie featuring The Rock? Have I yet to smell what he's cooking?" For a moment I honestly couldn't think of a single one. So I went to The Internet and scrolled the long list of feature films, and I actually found two(!) that I've seen in their entirety, both for partially ironic reasons: Doom (as part of our Video Game Take5 episode) and this, absorbed with a glimmer of hope that a self aware Michael Bay Action Comedy starring The Scorpion King might be more intentionally funny than unintentionally. (It really wasn't.) Honestly, I find the man likable, and despite having seen him in almost nothing, I don't think he's found his groove yet (though I can assume it's not Indie Oscar bait).

The Ren & Stimpy Show

"Mad Dog Höek"

Perhaps I would've been more into Wrestling had it leaned harder into these kindsa extremes (pus, gore, etc.). The irony is that Ren believes Wrestling to be fake and then gets graphically pummeled in various ways, which furthers my point that, if it's gonna be so obviously fake, it should be cartoonishly so; there should be way more poppings of eyeballs and blood vessels. 

Married... With Children

"Flight of the Bumblebee" featuring King Kong Bundy

Clearly it's about time I made a tag for Married... With Children as well. The name "Bundy" always seemed like a questionable choice for a sitcom family in the 80s, but the claim is that it was a direct homage to Pro Wrestler King Kong Bundy, who actually guested on the show twice: once as one of Peg's hick relatives, and then many seasons later as himself, in this episode where Kelly convinces him to beat up Bud in the ring. Definitely two of my least favorite episodes, but the Wrestling aspect is only partially incidental; when this show wanted to go intentionally lowbrow, it went hard, nearly past the point to where someone as shallow as me thought it was stupid, and that's definitely what happened here. Still, we honor this figurative and literal giant for lending his stage name to this iconic fictional family. 

Ed Wood

featuring George "The Animal" Steele (as Tor Johnson!)

This one's all kindsa meta: Pro Wrestler George "The Animal" Steele acting in a movie about director Ed Wood, portraying Pro Wrestler Tor Johnson who's cast by director Ed Wood to be in his movie. When this came out I wasn't really familiar with Plan 9 or Tor Johnson, but I immediately changed that right after I saw this, and I'm still as startled today as I was back then at how perfect this casting was. The resemblance is just uncanny! 

1 Night in China

featuring Joanie "Chyna" Laurer and Sean Waltman

Almost immediately after the "success" of Paris Hilton's leaked sex tape 1 Night in Paris, Chyna and Pro Wrestler fiancée Sean Waltman voluntarily sold their own homemade video to XXX studio Red Light District, cleverly adapting the punny title. Even during the dawn of the age of "pirating" and "downloading", I actually rented this video from the adult video store (because when it comes to smut I guess I'm just old-fashioned). Chyna apparently embraced the attention and continued making porn movies, but my curiosity halted after just 1 night. 

Blade Runner 2049

featuring Dave Bautista

I'd already seen him Guardians of the Galaxy and he (like the entirety of that movie) didn't really leave an impression on me -- at best I'm sure I just brushed him aside as some meathead hired for his exaggerated  physique. Obviously I was not so quick to dismiss his very brief but totally memorable moment in this movie that didn't require muscles at all; he gives a decidedly subtle turn as a soft spoken replicant who enjoys reading and farming. Putting him in the role could've come across as ironic, but no one approaches it that way and the scene remains memorable on its own merits. 

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze

featuring Kevin Nash

Lastly, what's a Bennett Inventory compilation without some mention of Ninja Turtles -- more specifically, Super Shredder! For me, nothing tops his menacing presentation in Part One - but that fell in line with the tone of that film. This decidedly goofy sequel only sometimes got as loud and colorful as it was trying to be, but this moment, depicting a giant mutated Shredder (played by Pro Wrestler Kevin Nash), is the crescendo of this movie's intended madness. Again, if Wrestling had ever featured costumes this over-the-top, it may've just piqued my interest. 

8 Lame Rap Songs from Movies and TV

As a rule, I try to stay away from compiling lists of stuff I don't like - it literally takes the fun out of the activity itself (and it's just bad for the soul). But, if we can find something that we can all hate on together, then it should create a nice sense of "community". Having said that, I'm banking on the prospect that all y'alls loathe these campy anthems as much as I. 

By the late 1980s there was obviously nothing new about the idea of the "Theme Song". From Dr. Zhivago to Love Story to Shaft to Footloose, a song that was literally about the subject matter could sometimes blend into that very subject matter - occasionally with a quiet dignity ("Moon River") or sometimes entirely absent of dignity ("Ghostbusters"). And then, at some point, I get the sense that Studio Executives in suits finally said, "The kids don't like Burt Bacharach anymore, they like The Rap Music!" I have no proof that this declaration was actually made but I can totally see something like this printed as a memo on Warner Bros. stationery. 

I'm not here today to talk about Do the Right Thing or Deep Cover or even Ghostbusters II (y'know it) but about the times when a rap song managed to minimize or even ruin the content, the reputations of the performers, and even the genre itself. 

Go ninja. 

- Paul

"City of Crime" Tom Hanks & Dan Aykroyd

Dragnet

It's weird that it didn't seem entirely dumb at the time -- that's possibly because the movie is equally dumb. Almost unbearably so. I love the 80s Tom Hanks Comedy Era but there were some major duds, and it's a miracle and a blessing that this movie got shackled with the rap song when it could have just as easily been The Money Pit or The 'Burbs. 

Sample lyrics:

It's a new sensation

We go down to the station

You're going to answer some questions

And have some refreshments

"Ace is in The House" Tone Lōc

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

One of those scenarios where it was like, "We already got Tone here, let's have him do a song." Technically this should've been a lot better, like maybe even a memorable hit, but to put it plainly: the song is just awful. Surprisingly, some (very sparse) interjections from Ace himself just makes the whole thing worse. Don't worry, ma'am, I'll find your pussy... CAT that is! There's no way Jim ad libbed that, it's beneath even this film. 

Sample lyrics:

If Ace is in the house, so must be Lōc

Blowin' up like a cloud of smoke

Checkin' all of his bitches at home

But I'm the dog with the biggest bone (woof)

"Maniac Cop Rap" Yeshwua Barnes & Brian B. Dub Wood

Maniac Cop 2

I was never a Maniac Cop fan. I find it equal parts dull and silly with a lotta squandered potential. Maniac Cop 2, on the other hand, utilizes that potential nearly to its fullest, making it as dark and mean as it should've been... And then we end with the rap song. To be fair (and probably perpetuating stereotypes) the "urban" landscape of the movie does lend itself to "street music" in the most pedantic way, but having the storybook version of a zombie policeman's antics sung to us does a disservice to both extremes. 

Sample lyrics:

He's homicidal and maladjusted

But when he busts in, your ass is busted

"Are You Ready For Freddy" The Fat Boys

A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master

I generally like all things Freddy, no matter how zany and far removed from the "child murderer" angle we get. I'm cool with the Dokken song, and I adore the Freddy's Greatest Hits album that has Robert Englund singing "Wooly Bully". I even like the Fresh Prince "Nightmare on My Street" song - because it has the right tone. Dream Master might be one of the more colorful entires, but this otherwise flawless soundtrack is marred by this tomfoolery that would feel even too dumb in Freddy's Dead. 

Sample lyric:

With a hat like a vagabond, standing like a flasher

It's Mr. Big Time, Freddy Krueger, dream crasher

"Ninja Rap" Vanilla Ice

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze

I don't hate the song. I don't hate the lyrics. Hell, I don't really hate Vanilla Ice. I mostly just hate that it played such a precious part in the movie. This whole film teeters on the edge of obnoxiousness, and it's at this climactic moment that it slips and falls right in it, and then the Turtles would forever be synonymous with the incredibly brief era when we all fell for one Rob Van Winkle. (As if the Turtles weren't already dated enough on their own.)

Sample lyrics:

Rockin' the crowd the way it should be rocked

With the Miami drop that you like a lot

You know it's hittin' like a Ninja Turtle

When the bass kicks in you better check your level

"The Crypt Jam" The Crypt Keeper

Tales From the Crypt

It wasn't actually on the show, but it did appear on its soundtrack in 1992 - though I can't imagine why. Here's the thing: the accompanying music video is a wondrous spectacle of puppetry and lighting and booty dancers, all with the goriest scenes from the series cut in here and there. As a song, without visual aid, it's 3+ minutes of John Kassir's punny giggling set to a really irritating hook -- it feels like an hour. (There are actually remixes that stretch it out even longer.) Whenever this comes up on my Halloween playlist, I'm inclined to 'skip'. 

Sample lyrics:

The Crypt Keeper's in the house with a groove that's nasty and mean

Like the effects of a guillotine

"Conehead Love" Dan Aykroyd, Jane Curtin, Nan Schaefer

Coneheads

Danny Aykroyd at it again, bustin' rhymes with another monotone in-character delivery. I think we've all finally arrived at the simple truth that this is a fine film, but I feel like it's stuff like this that might've had us on the fence for a few years (or decades). Despite having its own wildly over-the-top music video, I feel like the song was pushed to the bottom of the end credits as a way of saying "Listen to this or don't, it really isn't a part this movie." 

Sample lyrics:

I'll never understand this planet

The way these humans love to ram it

I much prefer the senso-rings

And all the timeless joy they bring

"Addams Family (Whoomp!)" Tag Team

Addams Family Values

At best, I can forgive the "Addams Groove" from the first film - MC Hammer was inescapable at the moment anyways, and besides, I think the whole thing was meant to be satirical (or it felt that way at least). But in this case? Unless it was included to literally poke fun at the first movie's use of a rap song, this is a travesty that, it my mind, scars the whole film; for me, they're (sadly) inseparable. If these movies absolutely needed to have an original song (they didn't) then I would've rolled the dice on maybe some Horror Punk band to assume the role. If they were going for irony, it definitely didn't land twice. 

Sample lyrics:

Whoomp! Family, whoa

Whoomp! Family, whoa

Whoomp! Family, whoa

The Addams Family

Summer Starter Pack 2026

 

It might be brash to make any big (or even medium sized) plans for the season, given our time-consuming, spirit-crushing employment status. But if we do get a chance to come up for air, we don't wanna waste a second on trying to decide what to do -- when leisure strikes, you gotta be ready (which is why the Starter Pack exists in the first place).

For the newbies, let's do the damn preamble: at the beginning of each Summer we compile a list of stuff we wanna do/eat/experience over the course of the next couple months. Some are big commitments, some might kill an afternoon. Some might be forgettable endeavors, some might forever define The Summer of '26 in our memory. Ultimately the reason we share it with you is that we hope you'll join in - either with the same activities or with your own agenda. Whatever you choose to do, just remember: if it takes longer than 15 minutes it counts as a break, so be sure to punch out. 

- Paul

The Sensual World of Black Emanuelle

This year's Starter Pack is all about "chill", though this could be a little more on the stimulating side. Back in 2023 Severin released a 24 film box set of the "Black Emanuelle" sub-sub-subgenre of movies, and I've just been sleeping on it, keeping it warm, waiting for it to hatch. If I was to embark on a two dozen Eurosex movie marathon, the circumstances had to be just right. 

I'd always been aware of a Black Emanuelle "spinoff" (bold quotation marks) but I had no idea of the expanse of this very specific franchise, as well as the talents involved; Joe D'Amato is behind the camera much of the time, and the set also comes with some soundtrack compilation CDs, featuring my boy Nico Zombie Holocaust Fidenco(!). It will no doubt be a strange, erotic journey. 

And then, all at once, there's Maude!

Most Summers we try to pick some old show (either contained in a flimsy box of discs or streaming somewhere for some finite amount of time) and try to stick to it -- binge it over the course of the season. Sometimes that works, sometimes that falls apart after one or two episodes - usually due entirely to an oversaturated market of content. But these? These leave us nowhere else to go...

Found at a sorta indoor flea market / consignment warehouse, mixed in with all the usual One True Things and Air Force Ones was a taped-offa-TV VHS of episodes of the 1970s sitcom Maude. After some more digging there was another. Then another. Clearly these were all meticulously recorded by some mega Maude fan, and since I can't imagine anyone with this much dedication just selling these cassettes off to strangers, I can only fear the worst. I only bought them in the hopes of seeing some old commercials, but now I have a quest to carry on this anonymous person's fandom (at least for the duration of my down time this Summer). 

Cinema Sewer

If I've never made it obvious, I'll plainly state that I've never been huge into comic books. I used to collect them for the art and the ads contained within, but the writing and the stories didn't interest me. But when you add the modifier of "Underground" to "Comic Books" then you might have something. Case in point: Robin Bougie's Cinema Sewer, "The Only Guide to History's Sickest and Sexiest Movies".

Published from 1997 to 2021, the comics were nearly entirely Film Theory and Film Criticism, with topics ranging from "The Best of Cannon Films", to a retrospective on Lisa De Leeuw, to a rundown of "Best Parking Garage Scenes", to the merits of Fart Porn. It's filthy, it's funny, it's sincere, and it's completely compatible to Bennett Media's interests and standards. FAB Press has compiled the best bits of every issue and consolidated them into 8 dense volumes of grimy musings and dirty drawings; I'm currently somewhere in the midst of Volume 3, and given the weight of every single page, it definitely qualifies as a voyage. 

Relaxo Music

Work can be stressful. So can cars, bills, health, relationships, identity theft, the gathering darkness, etc. Point is, it doesn't all stop for sunny weather, and a lotta the time we may be too tired, or too bitchy, or even too frightened to rock 'n roll all night -- most of the time it's important for us to keep calm, so that we may indeed carry on. One way to do that would be to have no auditory distractions at all, but that goes against our celebratory instincts (and also could come across as ominous). No, we need something cheerful, soothing, optimistic, comforting, and maybe even a little flirty. Luckily, Smooth Electronic Jazz from the 1990s checks all of these boxes. 

Most years we'll commit to an album or band or even a genre to be the soundtrack of That Summer, and most years we stray from that commitment. Not This Year. Honestly I turn to this music often, particularly when I need a gentle reminder that everything will be alright if I allow it to be. I've dug around for years trying to amass my own curated collection of this very specific vibe, and for those of you wanting to play along, go out and obtain (or at least sample) the works of Davol, Trammell Starks, and especially Fowler & Branca. I'm pretty sure all of them contributed to the sounds of The Weather Channel (if that gives you some frame of reference) but these moody melodies inspire a lot of imagery: a desert road trip, a short lived sitcom, a romantic daydream, a quiet neighborhood, a childhood memory -- just an abstract nostalgia for idealized visions of life. It's addictive. 

7 Sea Songs From The 70s

"Women love that sensitive nautical shit."

So many damn songs about oceans and boats in the 1970s - I suppose thus giving credibility to the label "Yacht Rock", for which I confessed my thoughts and feelings a couple years back. But I'll save you a click and say that I love the genre (as made up as it is) but I hate the name - the very idea of yachts is so obnoxious and elitist that it makes it that much harder to mellow out, man.

Semantics aside, here are 7 seafaring songs recorded during the 70s that I love as much as the woman I left back on land, but not as much as the current that carries me toward the horizon. 

- Paul

"Sailing"

The Sutherland Bros. Band

Known by most as a megahit for Rod Stewart in 1975, this original version from '72 is presented with a much more sinister urgency that better suits what the song is actually about. Rod's version is celebrated as a romantic tale of crossing the ocean to return to a loved one, but supposedly it's about hurtling through the cosmos in the afterlife. In that context, this version hits ways harder. 

"Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)"

Looking Glass

The somber story of a bartender and the guy who left her in favor of boating. It's a sweet melodrama that has the rhythms of a true Sailor's legend, and it's vivid in all the right ways; I'm sure we all have our own unique image in our minds of what Brandy looks like, and if you're as pedantic as I then you probably picture the same straight-haired filly from the roller rink that all the boys pictured when this song came out. 

"Sail On Sailor"

The Beach Boys

For a moment, the Boys grew weary of driving up and down the same ol' strip and headed out to the high seas, in search of inspiration and thunderstorms. Or something. I'm no Beach Boys fan (in the right mood you could call me a hater), so my angle is that, not only is this a cool song, but it's a cool song for them; there's an ocean of difference between "All the girls get so tanned" and "Sail through the sorrows of life's marauders". 

"Sailing"

Christopher Cross

One could assume this is where "Yacht Rock" got its name (I can't imagine what the argument against that would be). This may be a good time to point out that I've never been sailing and don't intend to, but I do love fresh air and warm sunshine and nature and tranquility, and the real achievement of this song is that it sounds like those things regardless of its literal subject matter. FYI: this whole debut album sorta has that vibe. 

"Sail Away Sweet Sister"

Queen

This choice comes with a few acknowledgments: it was released in 1980 (though it was recorded in '79 so there), and its references to marine life are minimal at best. Actually it's about Brian May being confined to the "friend zone" by the woman he loves and allowing her to sail off and find a life without him, free of guilt. But again, like the Christopher Cross song, it creates an auditory ambience of crashing through the icy waves, while simultaneously bookended by an ominous bassline that recalls the unnerving rocking of calmer waters. 

"Come Sail Away"

Styx

Like nearly all these songs the whole "sailing" idea is most likely a metaphor for more cerebral modes of travel. And again we start to lean heavy into the space exploration stuff (Queen also did this exact same thing with their song "'39"). Let's face it, by the 1970s the great unknown was no longer on this planet - a boundless romance lay in the stars. 

"I'm Your Captain (Closer to Home)"

Grand Funk Railroad

Saved my favorite for last. An honest to god yarn that possibly transitions into a ghost story and crescendos with an all out Sea Shanty, utilizing ten minutes with a forward momentum that promises land (or some kinda salvation) is fast approaching. It'd be a thrill to use it in its entirety in a movie, but in the meantime it's always exhilarating to experience it in the movie of my life. 

TRASH STASH : issue 019

mesmerism

"The White Album"

This month marks the 30th Anniversary of The Beatles Anthology documentary airing on ABC - which simultaneously (and logically) marks the 30th Anniversary of me becoming a Beatles fan (which just means I actively began learning about them and discovering their music). It's particularly cool to me to have such a definitive mile marker - not too dissimilar from a child watching them perform on The Ed Sullivan Show in '64. But the really great joy of uncovering an artist's (or artists') body of work is that it's continual; there are many starting points throughout the journey - especially if the book is closed on their oeuvre. Fortunately for me, between my two parents I had the band's entire catalog on vinyl at my disposal: my mother had all their early albums, and my father had the later stuff. Combine that with the family turntable/tape deck stereo, and within weeks I had my own curated collection of Beatles mixes - pulled largely from their Greatest Hits albums, 1962-1966 and 1967-1970. 

I was 12 years old - the band wasn't entirely new to me, but that small amount of added exposure caused that thing that clicks to finally click. If you're a fan of anything you know what I'm talking about, and if you're a fan of The Beatles then you really know what I'm talking about; not only is there a lotta content from this band to absorb, but it's a variety, complete with various subtexts and nuances and phases and even clues(!). But obviously I familiarized myself with all the popular stuff first (and they had a bunch) and then only very gradually did I begin to venture out into the "very slightly less popular" stuff, which is such a delicate margin that it no doubt raises its pinky as it sips its tea. For album cuts I was naturally drawn to the busyness of the art work on the Revolver and Sgt. Pepper covers, as well as the general familiarity of the Abbey Road image. But even still, I was skipping around to song titles that I thought might sound cool, and literally skipping over others. "Lovely Rita"? "I Want You"? Those sound like they're probably boring. So it should come as no surprise that I consistently flipped past the dirty yellowed album with no pictures on it.

For a couple of Beatles fans, my parents were good about never forcing their interests on me; they had their own shit, and if I wanted to participate or showed interest then they were happy to include me. So when I organically found the band I had two bonafide mystery tour guides to not only provide me with the music, but also the knowledge and wisdom. When my mother was a teenager each of the four walls of her bedroom were dedicated to a different Beatle. She showed me the Hard Day's Night and Help! movies and she knew them by heart. Her beat-up and incredibly crackly copy of their first U.S. album Introducing... The Beatles was like a visual and auditory time machine that helped me ignore the fact that I was stuck in the mid 1990s. She gave me a good sense of the fab world of Beatlemania, and I lived it. Privately. In my room. 

My father, who's eight years younger than my mom, educated me more on "later" Beatles: the music, the fashion, the drugs, the death hoax, India, Manson, details about the breakup, and even some solo years stuff. Suffice to say a lotta this material brought everything to a higher level of adoration and fascination as the whole thing started to become more of an intellectual journey. And again, while my guardians let me digest and interpret Pop Culture on my own terms, my dad couldn't help but strongly suggest that I allow myself to experience "The White Album". 

"Rocky Raccoon"? "Julia"? "Savoy Truffle"? I'd never heard of any of these songs - the whole album gave the impression of some niche novelty of dull throwaways that weren't good enough to be a part of any Greatest Hits compilations. An then I listened to it. And I wish I could remember more details about exactly when it happened or where I was or even how I felt when I heard it, but I can't, and that may be due in part to some weird Shining connection I had to it, as though I'd always been familiar the album. (In all honesty, George's "Long, Long, Long" still makes me nostalgic for a moment that I may not have experienced in my lifetime.) What I do remember is no longer feeling like I was catching up on some Oldies music, but instead I was experiencing a prologue to a future that had not yet arrived; the album isn't "ahead of its time", it's adjacent to it. 

I can't say too much about the impact the album had upon its release; these songs (for the most part) didn't necessarily reinvent the wheel, but the band did (for the second time) reinvent the concept of "the album". Their talent only ever transcended the trappings of "A-sides" nestled into "filler" to fill out a standard LP; many if not most of their "lesser" efforts could've passed as successful singles for any lesser band. With Sgt. Pepper they attempted to present an entire record as one unified work of art - with not quite as much consistency (in my opinion) as the bands that followed in its footsteps (The Who, Pink Floyd, Bowie, et al.). "The White Album" is such a dramatic antithesis of unification that it becomes, in itself, a monumental whole. Organized chaos. A dizzying wealth of craftsmanship and imagination swirling around inside a plain white package. 

It was exceptionally exciting, and really kinda serendipitous, that in 1999 Paul Thomas Anderson cited "The White Album" as his favorite album, and that he drew some abstract inspiration from it in creating Magnolia. But it's hardly coincidental: my favorite album by my favorite band has psychic ties to my favorite movie, so clearly whatever they're putting out, I'm picking up with a heightened sensitivity to that power. On the surface, both are rooted in an almost reckless stream of consciousness that blow past the average running time. Aesthetically, they're both a collage of sorts, with pieces that fit together primarily because they occupy the same space. All of that is just a fancy way of saying what everyone's ever said when describing this album: of the 30 songs that appear on the record, no 2 are truly alike. Some people actually dismiss the album because of this - I can't explain why (and typically neither can they). Not only is it the truest testament to the talent of The Beatles, but it lines up with something I seem to value most in art: diversity. In its entirety it's an exploration of the history of Pop Music, up to and including their own contributions to it, as well as the experimentation of that very minute. And while it's best represented by its blank canvas cover, it's more literally translated in (and contrasted by) its accompanying mashup poster by Richard Hamilton. 

I gush about this collage more than I do about the album for which it was created - partly because it's harder to write or talk about music, but also because the poster is a totally accurate depiction of what the album offers: jagged snippets, candid glimpses, nostalgic time capsules, polished showmanship, private moments, tongue in cheek witticisms, all juxtaposed with a jarring asymmetry, grounded by the familiarity of the act you've known for all these years. Without any tangible cover imagery to mentally link our minds to the music, this fractured jumble of snapshots, negatives, drawings, and other ephemera carries that weight with perhaps the most logical effort in the whole box. The poster peels back some of the mystery, while also definitively mirroring it, and whatever style or technique you'd call this, it's the one I look for and respond to most in art -- regardless of how abstract it is, it's how I attempt to decorate my home, how I decorate my body, and perhaps even how I choose to structure my life. So no, it wouldn't be too dramatic to say that I live and breathe this album (along with the prizes inside). 

Standing rigidly in clown suits holding Classical Music instruments in easily the best visual depiction of what Pepper is. Same as how the blank white cardboard with The Beatles crookedly embossed just off center is the best representation of what can be heard here. I do remember watching the brief "White Album" segment of the televised Anthology documentary, during which they recycled a lotta footage from the "Hey Jude" recording session, as well as a few studio still photos from 1968, and my father's immediate reaction was "Nooo, I don't wanna see them making 'The White Album', it ruins the illusion!" I obviously didn't understand what he meant at the time (having not yet heard the album) but boy I sure get it now. Thankfully (and appropriately) the photography that does exist from them making this record is consistently in black & white, and only ever depicts a shadowy/otherworldly atmosphere that seems sometimes soulful, sometimes menacing, and often collaborative. Mad scientists in the lab.

Pepper was witty, campy, melodramatic, and overproduced. "The White Album", for the most part, feels intimately lo-fi; in the early days I often experienced it through headphones and I truly felt like I was in that ghostly Abbey Road studio as it was being recorded. But this isn't about comparing it to Sgt. Pepper - to be fair, I should be comparing "The White Album" to the entire Beatle catalog because it very much stands out as its own thing. And that thing, to me, could be summed up by a handful of descriptors: kinky, enthusiastic, melancholic. All the music seems to be mired in one or two or all of these things, and while those are some primal moods when you're 13 years old, I've found that the effect never seems to age. Regardless of whether it's Acoustic Folk, Honky-tonk Country, nonsensical ad-lib, faux Blues, Heavy Metal, British Music Hall, or Avantgarde Soundscape, the creativity and commitment never waivers - up to and including the spontaneous scraps and off the cuff jams.

Simply (and fittingly) titled The Beatles, "The White Album" was released in the UK on November 22, 1968 - just in time for the Holiday shopping season at the end of one of the most violently tumultuous years of the decade; a little over a year since Sgt. Pepper and the Summer of Love, and only 10 months before John left the band for good. Critics of this album will dismiss it for its supposed lack of teamwork, and that it felt more like four solo artists merely operating as coworkers (as though this somehow diminishes the quality). John perpetuated this observation later on, reiterating that exact sentiment of the singular Beatle with a "backing band". The other members, as well as the engineers who worked on the album, admit to tensions but suggest a much more cooperative atmosphere - moving away from "meddling" in others' work and leaning more on support. (All the unearthed demos and outtakes further illustrate an air of camaraderie.) If there actually is a discernible division while listening, I only ever interpreted it as the frenzy of inspiration and ingenuity that it is - that excitement when the words come faster than you can move the pen. It's all treated in typical Beatle fashion - if Paul wants to bang out a song about his dog then it's time to bring in an orchestra, or if John wants to sing a children's singalong about lions and tigers then Yoko can sing backup, or if George wants to do a song about guitars then let Eric Clapton do a solo. Each song dictated its own production value, and by this point the band had the experience and the intuition to know when they needed flugelhorns and sleigh bells, or when a simple tambourine would do. 

Puberty was bad to me. By the time Eighth Grade began I was short, overweight, and sad, all while trying to grow my curly, wavy hair to match John's "White Album" portrait. At school, I was slowly and painfully realizing that it was best to be ignored, but as my once-outgoing personality clung on for dear life, I couldn't help but represent, as my wardrobe now consisted almost entirely of Beatles t-shirts that I shamelessly wore eight days a week. If you're into anything in Junior High your peers will mock you for it, but I decided to make it be well known that I liked "Oldies" music (before it became the more respectable "Classic Rock"). Nothing in the mid 1990s was uncooler than old music - except maybe the fat kid who openly adored it. I took a lot from The Beatles, and one thing was the realization that I couldn't help but be me; in the face of constant ridicule I never backpedaled or broke my allegiance to what gave me joy, and I continued to consciously choose to openly express it, despite the "Blubber Soul" and "Flabby Road" jokes. That, plus the mental conviction that I knew I was right, and that there was no doubt that my XL "White Album" shirt was way cooler than all the Bush and Marilyn Manson and NIN shirts around me. I maybe walked the line between "punchline" and "pushed aside", but I knew I was the only kid in school who could effortlessly sing along to "Revolution 9". 

Decades go by and I meet more people and the Internet opens a larger world and I begin to learn that the fandom is far-reaching. Magazines and TV Specials and online listicles always manage to shine a light on "The White Album" (though Revolver suddenly gets the most attention and I honestly don't understand why), and once we did reach the era of "Classic Rock" appreciation I began to see that much of the world is likeminded in regards to my favorite record. And it's usually for a lotta the same reasons - mostly focusing on the range of musical styles and the proficiency with which they were executed. But like any album or song or movie or painting or book, a piece of art's true power is best measured by how it affects The Individual. Music (even Pop Music) is one of the more abstract art forms and it can work on us like strong scents or bright lights, so whenever we revisit a collection of specific songs in a specific order, it can create a whole illustrated timeline in our minds. "The White Album" helped to get me through some times of trouble, but it's also sparked inspiration, accentuated better times, and mystified me with its layers and puzzles. I'd never put it on the playlist that is the "soundtrack of my life" because it never played the role of "background music" - it's always been an experience that demanded my full attention; a blissfully schizophrenic 93 minutes that ranges from funny to scary to gentle, packaged with a promise that it would eventually take me back where I came from. 

- Paul