"Needle Drop" Movie Song Classics, Fishbone Revisited, and Jalen Ngonda's Take on Marvin Gaye

The 6OGs ring in the new year of 5784 with something of a look back.  The new album choice sounds like it was recorded 50 years ago, the live show album came out 32 years ago, and then OG Brian rips off 18 incredible choices for “needle drop” movie songs, i.e. the perfect songs at the perfect moment in a movie – most of which are also of a certain vintage.  Guess that’s why they call us OGs. Enjoy, and Shana Tovah to those who celebrate.  

New album: Come Around and Love Me by Jalen Ngonda.  In his piece below, Brian references the classic scene in “High Fidelity” where John Cusack’s character puts on a new track for an unsuspecting group of customers in his record shop and has them instantly in the palm of his hand, all grooving and asking what it is (no spoilers from me).  From the first time I heard – and saw – Jalen Ngonda’s new record, I had this scene in mind. Not because it sounds like anything like the song in that scene, but because I imagine being in a crowd, putting the opening track of this record on, and having everyone start grooving, smiling, and then someone looking up and saying, “Is this an unreleased Marvin Gaye song?” or “Did someone redo ‘Mercy, Mercy Me?’”

For an artist’s debut album, there are much worse questions that could be asked. Personally, I do struggle when it feels like I’m listening to what is called neo-R&B, yet without much “neo.”  The album does embody a throwback, starting with the record cover: black and white photo, classic 70s album font, all the song titles and the label name printed on the cover.  And that label, Daptone Records, has been one of the cornerstones of neo-soul/neo-R&B for years, but whereas many of their key artists – Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings, Charles Bradley, Budos Band, Antibalas – evoke bigger sounds, Ngonda brings the music into a more intimate and emotional frame.

That starts with the opening/title track, “Come Around and Love Me,” which begins with a riff that takes you straight back to “Mercy Mercy Me,” with just an extra beat.  Ngonda’s voice is higher in pitch and not quite as full as Marvin Gaye’s, but it still delivers, and you’re taken directly into the heartache and future wonder of the song – will his love interest finally get over their worry “and keep this spark in the pressure glass?”  The rest of the album more or less works through that theme and question – with most tracks beginning with a quick drum fill, then laying out the questions about love and tension in the course of an uncertain relationship and future. 

The only other song that does not begin with a drum fill is “Give Me Another Day,” and it is probably the other standout musically, with the strings used perfectly and an infectious bass line.  The lyrics across the record never quite get deep enough into the emotional tension or space, staying slightly superficial and almost obvious as love songs.  But while “Come Around and Love Me” and “Give Me Another Day” are the standouts musically, even on the other tracks, it is the compositions that take you back to the world of 70s R&B.  

In 2020, Rolling Stone elevated “What’s Going On” to the #1 album of all time, which on one hand felt odd nearly 50 years after his release and after coming in at #6 in 2003.  But over time, somehow the older the album gets, the newer and more relevant it does sounds and feel. For Jalen Ngonda to focus on capturing that sound and energy in his debut album was both admirable and destined to come up just a bit short. We can only hope he has the same dramatic career arc (and much less dramatic/ tragic personal life) as Marvin Gaye. Although “Come Around and Love Me” is not likely to become one of the best ever, it’s clear Jalen Ngonda could have something close to it in his future. (Brad)    

Album from an upcoming/recent live show: The Reality of My Surroundings by Fishbone.  Albums rarely make me angry.  My response to an artist I dislike releasing an overwhelmingly popular album (too many to name) or an artist I like releasing an album that thoroughly doesn’t work for me (a prime example being Wilco’s Sky Blue Sky) is closer to indifference than hostility.  For the artist whose work I usually enjoy, I’ll listen a few times, decide it isn’t for me, and then never go back to it again; for the artist I didn’t like in the first place, I won’t even go that far.  I’m much more likely to be enraged by an individual song that is foisted on me while scanning the radio or on a shopping excursion, a notable example being alleged musician and professional asshole Kid Rock’s “All Summer Long,” which features a borderline offensive sample of Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” (I’m less bothered by that song’s “Sweet Home Alabama” sample, so you can see where my loyalties lie).

One of the only albums that actually angered me when I first heard it was Fishbone’s The Reality of My Surroundings, released in April 1991.  A bit of context – I was nearing the end of my freshman year of college and had yet to turn 19.  I was already a fan of Fishbone, having been completely blown away by their self-titled debut EP and their first two full-length albums – In Your Face and Truth and Soul.  In fact, I still remember walking from my high school to a local record store to buy Truth and Soul the week of its release with a less-than-enlightened (in many ways) friend who made fun of me for buying a CD by a band he’d never heard of.  My excitement for Fishbone’s third album was off the charts.  Then I heard the lead single, “Sunless Saturday,” and I was concerned, to say the least.  I wanted the Fishbone of “Party at Ground Zero” or “Ma and Pa” or “Bonin’ in the Boneyard” or “I Wish I Had a Date” or even some of their songs that, uh, lyrically haven’t aged very well like “Ugly” or “Lyin’ Ass Bitch.”  “Sunless Saturday” may have contained some sharp lyrics, but musically it was not the Fishbone I knew.

Aside from two straight up ska songs (“Housework” and “Pray to the Junkiemaker”), The Reality of My Surroundings did not sound like the Fishbone I’d grown to love.  I immediately dismissed the album and hated this new direction the band was taking (I admit this was not the prevailing opinion among rock critics at the time).  And you know what?  I was dead wrong.  Chalk it up to immaturity, or a refusal to look beyond the internal narrative I had about what kind of band Fishbone was, but at the time I couldn’t recognize how strong and daring this album is.

The Reality of My Surroundings has been described as Fishbone’s transition to a funk-metal band, but this is only partially true.  While the album contains several funk-metal songs, its tracklist covers several genres, including the two aforementioned ska songs.  Album opener “Fight the Youth” is an explosion of funk-metal that, like much of the rest of the album, features topical and confrontational lyrics more akin to Truth and Soul than the playful, fun self-titled EP (“Fight the youth/The youth with poisoned minds/Ignite the truth/Restore sight to these blind”).  The funk-metal continues on “So Many Millions,” the lyrics of which give the album its title and contain more direct early ‘90s commentary (“I cannot grow up to be the president/Where only drug dealers own Mercedes-Benz/If you tell me otherwise/it will only look like lies”).  “Behavior Control Technician” is another funk-metal message to the children, imploring them to avoid conformity and encouraging them to speak their minds, complete with screams that ooze anger and frustration (“Children still resist from the powers that persist”).

Fishbone shift gears later in the album with “Junkies Prayer,” essentially a spoken word piece over jazz fusion bongos with a message it wears on its sleeve (“Give us this day our daily krack/As we smoke ourselves into a manic frenzy/Forgive us for we have no control or self-respect”).  “Pressure” is a bit more ramshackle than the rest of the album, sounding like a ‘70s soul freak-out.  The album’s second single, “Everyday Sunshine,” makes for an interesting entry that, musically, still doesn’t quite work; it sounds like a mid-point between Fishbone’s brand of ska and the early ‘90s neo-hippie bands like Blues Traveler or Spin Doctors.  Lyrically, it’s as strong as any song on the album, as the band wishes for a better, friendlier, happier, less greedy world.  But the music screams “made for radio airplay.”  “Naz-Tee May’en” is a full-on burst of funk that would make George and Bootsie proud, and the opening lyrics (“It’s a heterosexual celebration”) give a strong hint to the ode to down and dirty hetero sex that will follow.  That theme continues on the Prince-inspired “Babyhead,” one of several songs on the album recorded from a live show.  “Those Days Are Gone” takes Fishbone’s funk and incorporates a bit of psych-rock, with lyrics that seem to hint at dreams falling by the wayside.  The album closer is “Sunless Saturday,” and I’m dismayed to report it still doesn’t work for me.  It’s attempting metal but without the funk, and the prog-inspired keyboards in the background don’t help.  Lyrically, the song is as pointed as anything else on the album (“I see the pestilence outside my window/I see the dung heaps piled at least a mile high”) but like “Everyday Sunshine,” it still sounds like it was crafted for maximum airplay.

The 18-song album also contains numerous interludes, some more skippable than others.  “Asswhippin’” is just that – 37 seconds of whipping and screaming over percussive beats.  It’s not a pleasant listen, and clearly not meant to be, but it fits with much of the rest of the album as a reminder of how the problems of 1991 (many of which continue today) connect back to history.  A less interesting interlude is “Deathmarch,” a 30-second long second line funeral march that might have been better as a full-length song.  There are also four interludes recorded from live shows, each called “If I Were A…I’d.”  Each one is a burst of ska-punk running about 30 seconds long and covering topics such as the military, society, television, white supremacy, and politicians, rarely in flattering terms.  They’re fine, but hardly essential, although I’m sure they were a blast at the show.

Expectations can be brutal.  I expected Fishbone’s third album to be one thing, and I got something completely different.  Those expectations, back in ’91, caused me to reject an album that, while not perfect, is still vital, brave, and daring.  More importantly, The Reality of My Surroundings represents what Fishbone wanted to do artistically, as opposed to what I wanted them to do.  I cite my youth not as an excuse but a reason for why I didn’t get it at the time, and why it angered me that sought to change their sound.  I’d like to think that, as I got older, I became more open-minded about artists changing direction and expanding upon the sound that brought them fans in the first place, such as Radiohead, De La Soul, or Wilco (Sky Blue Sky notwithstanding).  In hindsight, I wish I had that same open-mindedness and appreciation of all that The Reality of My Surroundings had to offer in terms of genre experimentation and lyrical punch.  We’ll see how it all holds up on stage when they open for GZA on the “Truth and Swords Tour” at the Fillmore Silver Spring in November. (Brian)

Album (um, songs) being rediscovered (at least 10 years old, mostly):  Time for another list.  For this one, I’ll keep the intro short and sweet.  Instead of albums, I’m listing a selection of some of the best movie needle drops.  Not in terms of song or movie quality – although as you’ll see, there is certainly variety in both when viewed in a vacuum.  But in each case, the combination of film and song fits like a glove.  Without a doubt, I failed to include some worthy choices, but a representative list of this type could easily include 200 songs.  In some cases, music is central to the movie’s theme, while in others the music enhances the movie without being the primary focus.  The only strict rules for this list – no concert movies and no Gimme Shelter.  It’s a great song, but it’s overused.

(And apologies to my better half and all other Prince superfans, but Purple Rain is not eligible.  Too similar to a concert movie.  I’m neither ignoring nor refuting its greatness.  It just doesn’t fit what I’m doing here.)

Once again, in no particular order:

(1)   “Then He Kissed Me” by The Crystals (Goodfellas) – Arguably the gold standard of needle drops, the way it perfectly matches the famous tracking shot of Ray Liotta’s Henry and Lorraine Bracco’s Karen taking the side entrance through the kitchen into the Copa.  The song is era-appropriate and, when combined with the visuals of the Copa staff kissing up to Henry and waving out a front row table, helps the viewer understand why Karen would fall for a sociopath.

(2)    “The Hurricane” by Bob Dylan (Dazed and Confused) – I could have picked multiple songs from this film, but I chose “The Hurricane” because of this scene, which is both perfect and really inappropriate.  The song plays as Matthew McConaughey’s creepy older guy Wooderson, who today would be labeled a predator (“I get older, they stay the same age”), struts into the teen rec center/’70s arcade like he owns the place.  In hindsight, maybe not the best choice to soundtrack this scene with a song about a Black boxer wrongfully convicted of murder because of his race.  But then again, McConaughey is a force of nature as Wooderson, so maybe the song works a little too well.

(3)    “Fight the Power” by Public Enemy (Do the Right Thing) – 1989 was not just another summer.  This movie, this song, and this video – taken together they were an event.  I spent most of that summer in Ithaca, New York, and turned 17.  I went to my first art house movie theater with some friends to see Do the Right Thing.  First, my mind was blown at the sight of a movie theater that sold beer.  Two hours later, mind blown again by Spike Lee’s masterpiece, due in no small part to PE’s brilliant song that formed the backbone of the film.

(4)    “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon (The Color of Money) – For anyone who knows me, this was probably the most predictable choice on the list, so I’ll get it out of the way early.  Tom Cruise has had his hits and misses, both on film and in life (couch jumping, anyone?).  He’s very much an odd bird.  But the man has never looked cooler than when he was running the table, hitting trick shots, and forcing a swagger as he danced around the table while wearing his dorky “VINCE” t-shirt, perfectly synced to Zevon’s classic novelty song.  His hair really was perfect.

(5)    “The Sound of Silence” by Simon & Garfunkel (The Graduate) – Talk about a powerful way to end a movie, and the perfect connection between a song and a film’s final message.  We all know the famous scene – Dustin Hoffman’s Ben disrupts the wedding of Katherine Ross’s Elaine, they both jump on the first bus they see and sit on the back bench.  But as the smiles and the giddiness fade, the two of them stare blankly ahead as the guitar riff to “The Sound of Silence” starts up.  The song takes the ultimate “holy shit, what now?” moment and makes it even more nerve-wracking, adding to the feeling that these kids are doomed.

(6)    “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin (Fast Times at Ridgemont High) – There are more notable songs from this fabulous ‘80s teen movie (“Somebody’s Baby” by Jackson Browne being an example), but this moment was always a personal favorite.  As Brian Backer’s (thank you, IMDB) Rat was getting ready for his date with Jennifer Jason Leigh’s Stacy, Rat’s scalper buddy Damone gives him his “five-point plan” for success with women.  Step five?  “When it comes to making out, whenever possible, put on side one of Led Zeppelin IV.”  Quick cut to Rat and Stacy driving with “Kashmir” playing on the car stereo.  A great illustration of Rat’s inability to connect with the opposite sex – not only is Stacy thoroughly uninterested in Zep, but my guy picked the wrong album.  Dude couldn’t even follow basic (bad) instructions.

(7)    “Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show” by Neil Diamond (Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) – One could make an entire list comprised only of Tarantino needle drops, and he’s had some great ones – “Stuck in the Middle With You,” “Jungle Boogie,” “Misirlou,” “Across 110^th Street.”  But for this list I’ll give in to recency bias and go with this Neil Diamond song from Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.  A major theme of this movie is the aging ‘50s stars on the decline being replaced by new stars of the ‘60s.  This scene, however, is a little less explicit.  Brad Pitt’s Cliff is driving through L.A. when this song comes on the radio and he taps along to the beat, right before he agrees to drive Margaret Qualley’s very underage Manson family member Pussycat out to Spahn Ranch.  The song is current for the time depicted, but it’s not exactly cool.  It’s a sign that 1969 and the years to follow are for the Pussycats of the world (murderous intent aside), not the Cliffs.

(8)    “Within Your Reach” by The Replacements (Say Anything) – The obvious choice from this movie is “In Your Eyes.”  But I always liked that, when John Cusack’s Lloyd is packing up to go to England with Ione Skye’s Diane (maybe not the best life choice, but whatever), this great song by the ‘Mats is playing in the background.  It just fits.

(9)    “Just Like Honey” by The Jesus and Mary Chain (Lost in Translation) – Boomers would argue, but it’s in competition with “The Sound of Silence” for best needle drop to end a movie.  Bill Murray’s Bob spots Scarlett Johansson’s Charlotte in crowded Tokyo and gets out of his cab.  They hug, they share a brief kiss (bit of an ick factor considering the age difference), he says something in her ear that the audience can’t hear, and they go their separate ways as “Just Like Honey” kicks in (“Walking back to you is the hardest thing that I can do”).  Supposedly there’s a version on the internet where you can hear what Bill Murray says.  It shouldn’t exist.  This is perfection.

(10) “Day-O” by Harry Belafonte (Beetlejuice) – Including just in case Lauren Boebert is paying attention.  She could pair it with Georgia Satellites’ “Keep Your Hands to Yourself.”

(11) “Pusherman” by Curtis Mayfield (Super Fly) – Another film with slightly more obvious songs, specifically the title track and “Freddie’s Dead.”  Instead I’m going with the hauntingly cool and funky “Pusherman.”  The bass and percussion start with Ron O’Neil’s drug dealer Priest driving at night and then gladhanding the nightclub crowd.  While the music has a menacing tone, the lyrics hint at a man who is trapped by circumstance and, much like Priest, is trying to get out of the life.

(12) “Dry the Rain” by The Beta Band (High Fidelity) – Another Cusack movie that’s right in the wheelhouse of younger versions of the 6OGs (the music obsessiveness still speaks to me, but the dithering, self-loathing, and over-analysis of Cusack’s Rob I now find a little unbearable and I totally get why his girlfriend ditched his whiny ass).  This song appears briefly, during a scene on a busy weekend day at Rob’s record store.  He leans over to an employee and whispers, “I will now sell five copies of The Three EPs by The Beta Band.”  The customers groove to the back half of the song and are suckered in – the opening to the song is a bit morose and doesn’t appear in the movie.  It never got any better than this for The Beta Band, who went on to release three underwhelming albums and, in classic Britpop fashion, broke up hating each other.

(13) “Making Time” by The Creation (Rushmore) / “Queen Bitch” by David Bowie (The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou) – Cheating by including two Wes Anderson needle drops because I couldn’t choose between them. When Rushmore was released, like many others, I wondered, “what’s that Who song that’s playing in the trailer?”  Turns out it was The Creation’s “Making Time,” a song I was unfamiliar with but is now a garage rock staple.  I’m also including “Queen Bitch,” which played over the closing credits to Life Aquatic, because it’s one of my favorites from Hunky Dory (all due respect to “Changes” and “Life on Mars?”).

(14) “Lonely Boy” by Andrew Gold (Boogie Nights) – If I was ranking scenes in order, this would probably be near the top.  The phone rings during a party hosted by Burt Reynolds’s porn producer Jack Horner.  A little boy on the other end is asking for his mother, who no one can find.  The audience soon realizes that the mom he is looking for is Julianne Moore’s porn star Amber Waves, who is on a couch snorting coke.  But since no one knows her real name, mother and son never speak.  It’s a gut punch of a scene that’s enhanced by this piece of ‘70s soft rock.  Honorable mention to Elvin Bishop’s “Fooled Around and Fell in Love,” which soundtracks the scene in which William H. Macy’s Little Bill sees his wife having sex in front of a crowd in a driveway during the same party, and utters the immortal (and unintentionally but hilariously incorrect) line, “my fucking wife has an ass in her cock over in the driveway, alright?”

(15) “Bellbottoms” by The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion (Baby Driver) – Not much to say about this one, except the song rocks, and it’s great for a car chase that kicks off a heist movie.

(16) “She’s Lost Control” by Joy Division (24 Hour Party People) – The song crosses multiple scenes.  At first, it starts as a work in progress, as producer Martin Hannett is making life in the studio hell for the members of Joy Division to get the sound right.  Later, driving in a car, everyone listens to the tape and realizes they created something different and amazing.

(17) “Search and Destroy” by The Stooges (Almost Famous) – “Tiny Dancer” gets all the pub, but this scene is just as good.  Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Lester Bangs, in a radio interview, complains about the then-current state of rock & roll before putting on an Iggy Pop solo version of the Stooges’ classic.  Ties neatly into Hoffman’s speech later about how “the only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.”

(18) “Big Bottom” by Spinal Tap (This is Spinal Tap) – Still funny.  Even if it might violate one of my rules. (Brian)