I remember when the first album by The Police came out in 1978, I was intrigued by all the hype in the British music press. I bought Outlandos d'Amour from the Kenyon bookstore as soon as it hit the shelves and eagerly jogged back to my dorm to slap it on the turntable. The mix of punk and (white, London-boy) raggae sounded so strange to my suburban middle-class, midwest ears. It caught me completely off guard. It certainly wasn't what I had been lead to expect by all the glowing reviews. This was punk? I didn't get it. So I scratched the record and took it back, knowing I had the only copy in town so the store would have to give me my money back rather than simply exchange the LP.
Weeks past and I kept coming across article after article about this amazing band of peroxide blondes called The Police. Had I missed something? What was everyone else hearing that I couldn't appreciate? I bought the record again. And after a few listens… I gave it away to somebody on the first floor of my dorm. Jesus, this was getting ridiculous.
By now the college radio station—WKCO— had gotten ahold of the record and DJ's—my fellow classmates—were playing the shit out of it. I would go down to the station to help a friend read the news and there was The Police's debut, mocking me with a “DO NOT FILE” sticker stuck to its cover. That meant the record was in such heavy rotation there was no need to shelve it back in the library because more than likely the next DJ up would only have to go back and dig it out so they could play it on their show. “DO NOT FILE?” That was the last straw.
Over the holidays I asked my uncle to get me the LP for Christmas — there was no fuckin' way I was gonna buy it a third time. To this day I don't know what it was about that record that had me so stymied. In retrospect, my behavior was pretty irrational: I don’t recall ever responding to any other record that way, and I had certainly delved into far more “challenging” music. Whatever it was, the third time I became owner of the record was definitely the charm. Something clicked, and I suddenly heard the magic that everyone else was raving about. Having said that, I've chosen a song by The Police for today's HMSD, but the performers are actually a band called Pale Pacific. Like any truly good cover, this version of “Walking on the Moon” (in honor of last night and this morning's gorgeous orange moon) has been digested and regurgitated so it's both clearly recognizable, while being genuinely different. I highly recommend other music by this band from California, because they also write and perform really amazing music of their own. (Please use the comments box to share your thoughts.)
Weeks past and I kept coming across article after article about this amazing band of peroxide blondes called The Police. Had I missed something? What was everyone else hearing that I couldn't appreciate? I bought the record again. And after a few listens… I gave it away to somebody on the first floor of my dorm. Jesus, this was getting ridiculous.
By now the college radio station—WKCO— had gotten ahold of the record and DJ's—my fellow classmates—were playing the shit out of it. I would go down to the station to help a friend read the news and there was The Police's debut, mocking me with a “DO NOT FILE” sticker stuck to its cover. That meant the record was in such heavy rotation there was no need to shelve it back in the library because more than likely the next DJ up would only have to go back and dig it out so they could play it on their show. “DO NOT FILE?” That was the last straw.
Over the holidays I asked my uncle to get me the LP for Christmas — there was no fuckin' way I was gonna buy it a third time. To this day I don't know what it was about that record that had me so stymied. In retrospect, my behavior was pretty irrational: I don’t recall ever responding to any other record that way, and I had certainly delved into far more “challenging” music. Whatever it was, the third time I became owner of the record was definitely the charm. Something clicked, and I suddenly heard the magic that everyone else was raving about. Having said that, I've chosen a song by The Police for today's HMSD, but the performers are actually a band called Pale Pacific. Like any truly good cover, this version of “Walking on the Moon” (in honor of last night and this morning's gorgeous orange moon) has been digested and regurgitated so it's both clearly recognizable, while being genuinely different. I highly recommend other music by this band from California, because they also write and perform really amazing music of their own. (Please use the comments box to share your thoughts.)