Daily Blague

Will the cold that has me in its sights kindly attack forthwith or withdraw? Feeling mildly lousy has lost its charm. I shall keep to my bed today; that's as good a place as any to make a dent on the periodicals.

In the evenings, waiting for Kathleen to come home, I usually perk up. Last night, I copied a bunch of LPs onto CDs. The idea is to get rid of the vinyl, but in a few cases I think I'm just going to hold on to the originals. The artwork is too good - Hipgnosis's jacket for Synergy's Cords - or the album is just too dear. At the top of the "dear" list is Ray Parker, Jr's debut album, Raydio, released by Arista in 1978.

By the fall of 1979, "Jack and Jill" had penetrated my general inattentiveness to pop, and I got to think so highly of the song that I would pull over, if possible, and just hear it out. I wouldn't have said this at the time, but now I take "Jack and Jill" to be a parody (possibly unconscious) of an enthusiastic church meeting, with Mr Parker substituting a justification of Jack's errancy for a sermon, with affirmation from the choir. The swelling chords the open the song are particularly churchly.

"Jack and Jill" seems to appear on every "best of" CD that Mr Parker has reissued, but the other songs on Raydio have fallen by the wayside. That's why I'm offering, for your amusement and edification, "Betcha Can't Love Me Just Once." Mr Parker's running trope is that he's the one with the commitment; most of his lyrics would sound just right coming from Aretha Franklin. But his inflection is totally lascivious. Kathleen cites Rick James as an influence. So is Barry White, in whose band Mr Parker was once a sideman. Mr Parker's combination of silk and sin, unusual in a male singer, sounds both serious and gently self-spoofing: he's making fun of himself while he's unbuckling his belt. Betcha can't listen just once. (But you can try.)

Back to bed.