I’ve
been bless-cursed with a fairly encyclopedic knowledge of pop culture. I try
not to let it get too obnoxious, but every now and then I just have to make people aware that, for instance, there are actually three full verses
to the Cheers theme song and I know
all the words to them. Usually, though, I keep it quiet because nobody likes a
know it all. It’s a good policy in general, but there have been a few instances
where I’ve chosen not to speak up and forever regretted holding my piece. Here’s
my chance to get three particularly festering corrections off my chest.
The Cowardly Film Student
I
took a film studies course my sophomore year of college that was overall pretty
solid. The professor was knowledgeable if not particularly engaging and he
showed us a good roster of classic cinema. During a lecture that touched on the
importance of The Wizard of Oz,
however, he repeatedly referred to Charles Laughton’s performance as The
Cowardly Lion. The professor was, of course confusing Laughton with Bert Lahr,
a similarly portly and unsubtle (I mean that in the best way) screen star of
the 1930s. I almost yelled out a rebuke, but this was an auditorium class and I
didn’t have the heart to make the guy look foolish in front of 100-plus
undergrads.
Ignoring a Hole
That
same sophomore year, I took a British Lit class with a professor who delighted
in tweaking the parameters of the standard undergraduate literature syllabus.
Thus, we watched Monty Python’s Flying
Circus and
I’m All Right Jack, read Salman
Rushdie’s Shame and Caryl Churchill’s
Cloud Nine and listened to Linton
Kwesi Johnson and The Beatles.
I
was pretty excited about that last part, as I’d fancied myself something of a
Beatles scholar ever since I first read Nicholas Schaffner’s The Beatles Forever in sixth grade. My
excitement turned to dismay, however, when the professor spent a good portion
of his lecture dissecting the lyrics to “Fixing a Hole.” For one thing, I’ve
always considered that a rather mediocre Beatles song, and for another thing,
the guy had the words wrong. He dedicated a fair bit of time to the clever
nuance of the line “fixing a hole where the rain gets in / to stop my mind from wandering.” He was especially impressed by the double meaning of “to” – did it refer to Paul’s patching job or to
the rain itself? In other words, was he trying to keep his mind focused or allow it to roam
freely?
It
would have made for a fine discussion point (and arguably a better song) except
that the actual lyric is the much less ambiguous “and stops my mind from wandering,” not “to.” It was awfully hard
not to call him out, but in the heat of the moment I doubted my own knowledge
and didn’t want to risk making a dope of myself on a point of only 98%
certainty.
The Kiss Not Taken
About
15 years ago I heard a DJ on an oldies radio station introduce J. Frank Wilson
and the Cavaliers’ rendition of “Last Kiss,” saying something along the lines of
“Here’s a bit of music trivia for you: nowhere in the song does J. Frank Wilson
ever say the words “last kiss.’” I suppose he was technically correct, if you’re
going on the notion that the final verse doesn’t count as part of the song.
Otherwise, “I held her close / Kissed her our last kiss” is pretty evident. It
still bothers me that I didn’t call the station immediately and demand that the DJ be fired.
