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I only met Michael Jackson once. It was 1980 and I was at Hollywood Sound recording with Earth Wind & Fire and he was working in the room next door. This was before Billy Jean shot him into the stratosphere but Michael Jackson was still a music God. He walked over to me but as he gave me a big grin and very gentle almost-handshake someone burst into the studio and said Richard Pryor had set himself on fire. Everyone just froze and I quietly slipped out of the room. Those old school recording studios are as soundproof as tombs but I could hear all the commotion in the lobby as he ran out.

Though many of my friends co-wrote many of his classic songs I never wrote for Michael until a few months ago when Steve Porcaro, of Toto and ‘Human Nature’ fame, called and said Michael had called him looking for hit singles. We worked on and off over the next few months and finished a fantastic lush and layered Human Nature type song called “The Little Things”. Though Michael never got to hear it, the Man In The Mirror type chant that opens it will forever remind me of him.

This 1984 Limited Edition Michael Jackson “Superstar of the 80’s” Doll features the King in his Beat It outfit. He came with ‘glittering “Magic” Glove and microphone’ but I’ve lost those over the years. Thriller, Billy Jean, American Music Awards and Grammy outfits were also available. He twists at the waist and bends with moveable arms so you can “recreate his famous dance steps”. 

I’ll break open the 1984 box of Michael Jackson Dress-Up Set Colorforms on another Kitsch O’ The Day within the next few days. R.I. P. M.J.

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Looking like he was baked by a south of the border blazing sun, this almost African American Elvis on velvet also has a semi-Oriental thing going on in one of his eyes. I never saw Elvis in a white shirt and denim jacket either so perhaps the artist’s concept was presenting the day worker King. It certainly is the equal opportunity Elvis of all Elvises on velvet. Green velvet no less to show off that gorgeous tone.

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In 1978, I sat next to the Candy Man on his 30′ monogrammed Gucci couch. It was the first huge movie star’s home I’d ever been in and there we were eating ribs together, Sammy dabbing sauce off the locking G’s and my chin. He was wild about my song that had just come out, EWF’s “September”, but I was still penniless as my royalties were so delayed. Every time I look at this dollar bill I remember the thrill of the ribs/Gucci/ Sammy moment and how excited I was that life was looking up. 

This is a REAL mint one dollar bill, legal and negotiable tender, made via a process permitted by the Treasury Department since 1967. I would never spend it as it’s worth a zillion to me.

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What’s to make me join yet another social network when I’m already a member of so many, dragging myself ’round the clock to fulfill my duties as a responsible citizen on each of them? What’s to make me listen to a record that sounds like everything else – same beat, loop or intellectually challenged lyric? It’s one thing to be first. It’s another to be 43rd.

I like to be comfortable wherever I am, especially if it’s in a social space. In order to command my undying attention and devotion a social network’s got to have something that none of the others have, fill a spot in my life and psyche that needs filling. Conversely, a degree of familiarity in social network design, what works about other social networks that I really want to see working here, also assures happier orientation and participation. The only way I’ll hang or even notice a new social space in the first place is because enough of those things I’m already comfortable with are there fused with outrageously original, fantastic and artistic social design

It’s the same with a song if you think about it. An outrageously unique record stays in your heart and brain cells and sets the pace for years. One that’s merely derivative lasts for a few weeks or months and burns out forever, maybe relegated to replay at high school reunions.

In founding a community fresh, creative thinking always wins. In what new way can people hook up and push or pull what they want easier than they can anywhere else? Do we honestly need one more music or video social net whose only differentiator is it’s one more place to post?

It doesn’t work any differently in any business. Quantumly different products and services burst onto the scene be they social networks, songs, technologies, films, stores, diets, Snuggies, whatever – and trillions of lemming like spin-offs spring up trying to bite off a piece of the green before the bloated landscape sinks like a rock. 

I never felt a conflict between “art” and “commercial”. In entertainment, the greatest successes usually include aspects that time and again appeal to the masses mixed with something so outrageously fresh that it redefines the direction the entire business is going in.

I’m (among other things) a songwriter. I’ve never tried to write anything that sounded like everything else that was out at the time. (What artists and producers do with my songs once they decide to cut them is totally in their control. Oftentimes they mash out the uniqueness like chunks of potato to join the rest of the homogenized mess and usually disappear as fast as the songs they ruin.)

But as much as I strive to be unique there’s a cardinal rule that any songwriter would be nuts to ignore: If you wait three minutes to get to the chorus your song won’t be a big fat hit. That’s just how it is. People live for and remember the chorus. So that rule, plus the fact that rhyming is a good idea, are two ‘industry best practices’ that would be fairly idiotic to ignore. The trick is to juxtapose these tried and true things with other aspects of the song where you take chances and create something unlike anything else around.

Any popular piece of art has many of the same characteristics as a popular social network. They both inspire people to talk about it, share it with their friends and go to it often. Popular songs like popular web destinations bring something out in someone’s personality that may have remain tucked inside had they not ventured into that space. 

In 1978 I co-wrote “Boogie Wonderland” for Earth Wind & Fire with The Emotions. I really wanted to write a disco song and, with my collaborator, Jon Lind, figured out a way to use the word ‘boogie’ that was different from the zillion other disco songs out there. Everyone used it to mean ‘dance’. We used ‘Boogie’, in conjunction with ‘Wonderland’, to mean an exhilaratory state of mind one enters into while dancing. 

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“Boogie Wonderland” was actually based on the movie “Looking For Mr. Goodbar”, where Diane Keaton goes to a disco every night to forget her pitiful everyday life and ends up almost being murdered because she has so little sense of self. Everyone always tells me how my song makes them feel so good but if you really listen to the lyrics it’s about someone on the brink of destruction who goes out to numb and forget themselves, only feeling like everything is alright when they “Dance! ooh ooh ooh ooh dance in Boogie Wonderland”. 

This is a device I often use in songs – mix a heavy theme, lyrically distinct from other songs of the genre, into happy, uptempo music. The BW lyric was distinctive as was the massive horn and string arrangements and the structure of the song itself. But that payoff chorus was in the same place as other hit songs and that hi hat disco spirit was very much there. Formula plus a squinch or more of innovation wins big every time. I need that same rhythm in my social networks.

(To hear the demo and read way more about how Boogie Wonderland was written go here.)

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Everything goes down smooth, Smokey style at 7/11.  At the time, early in the stars cross-promoting with retail establishments 1970’s, I thought Smokey was too smooth to be on a cup.  But I loved Slurpees, Big Gulps and such and forgave him with my first swig back.  I still collect these cups.  Grand Funk Railroad and The Fifth Dimension sit right next to Smokey on my desk holding pencils, tv remotes and the like, still working round the clock in the studio.

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Sammy’s the Kitsch King no matter how you slice the cheese wheel. His shtick is the barometer against which all other nightclub cheese is measured – though the Candy Man’s case is made all the more compelling because of his Kool factor. This bobble head is newish but is a limited edition with no new ones being made. My favorite thing about him is that he sits on top of a speaker in my recording studio and bobs his head in loving rhythm to whatever I write.

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If only for the polyester bellbottomed poolside fashion shows and the razor blades embedded in Pam Grier’s afro, Friday Foster has attained classic blax- and kitschploitation status. This 1972 Dell comic book version, billed as “Action-packed excitment in the fashionable world of the Jet Set” features assistant photographer Foster gone Shaft in the aptly named timepiece, “The Beautiful People”.

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When it began life as a comic strip in The Chicago Tribune and its syndicated papers in 1970 Friday Foster was the first black character lead in a comic book. In 1975, the Friday Foster movie was released.  This is the first issue of the comic book, October, 1972.

See the trailer here

And oh yea, they still make Friday Foster dolls. Say hi to “Far-Out Friday”. 

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Here I am with James Brown in my studio in 1984 as we peruse one of my favorite Kitsch books, How To Sing For Money. The Godfather and I used to joke that it should have been called ‘How To Write For Money’ as there were so many ways songwriters got screwed out of royalties and credit, a situation that befell both of us numerous times.

I thought this would be an appropriate Kitsch O’ The Day post in view of my post yesterday on behalf of jilted songwriters everywhere. The book, only the top quarter of which is visible in this photo from Billboard magazine, was published in 1945. Maybe the advice worked back then but it’s irrelevant given the oil slick music industry of the last thirty years.

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I was, thank God, Reality TV before Reality TV existed as I filmed almost every significant moment of my life since I owned my first video cam in 1978. Here we are seconds after we read the book, writing an ode to my dog Orbit, a plain brown baked potato who Mr. Brown loved and let sleep on his mink coat whenever he came over.

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