Since You're Gone: A Former New Wave Nymphet's Musings on The Cars

There’s been talk swirling around on the Velvet Rope forum about a possible Cars reunion, and at first I got all excited, and then I remembered: now wait just a fucking minute, Ben Orr’s left our earthly plane. This'll take some careful thought. Who would they get to step in for him? And jeeezus please tell me they’d take the time to set aside some time to do a tribute to this man if they did. Not only was he a member of one of the most influential bands to ever come out of Boston, possessing a voice that could charm the panties down your legs – but Ben Orr, for me, in my jailbait rock and roll fantasy world back then, was a picture to behold. The way he fingered that bass in TV appearances (“Fridays,” anyone?) and photos, and the image of his tongue and the way it practically makes love to that lollipop on the back cover of “Candy-O.” My heart is twittering away, just at the mere thought. God bless Benjamin Orr and his rock and roll heart. But a Cars reunion without him? Part of me says, “Well, only if they honor him, one of the true golden boys of the American synth-pop pantheon,” and another chimes in with, “Are you kidding? Just leave that one alone already.”

The older I get, though, the more I meet girls who were totally tapped into that Benjamin Orr vibe, and I’m sure there are millions of other former new wave nymphets just like us all over America having done the very same thing – if not with the Cars, then having some other mutual favorite band with each member staked out to a different girl in your clique. C’mon – you know who you are. Now, I can’t remember the specifics of our group, if it was Tifanie or Yvonne who wound up with Ben Orr – but I wound up with David Robinson, which trust me, was no major hardship – after all, he was stunning in his own way, not to mention the one who came up with the idea hiring Alberto Vargas to paint the cover of “Candy-O.” The man had – and probably still has – exquisite taste. I think I saw him as judge in a beauty contest a few years after “Drive” came out – so here’s hoping he gave the talent a whirl and continues to wow the ladies. Looking back, to my horror I remember writing him a couple of letters, delivered to their Synchro Sound studio address in Boston. I am not proud of this. I was taking chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s disease at the time and probably not thinking very clearly. But hey, at least I never sent any bodily fluids or threats – just embarrassingly maudlin teenaged jibberish in plaintive purple or pink ink, fueled by prednisone, sleeplessness, and an ultra-vivid imagination. I needed some kind of outlet, right?

So as an alcoholic or an addict would apologize to people for their past behavior, can I just ask, David, if you’re reading this, please forgive me. Thanks, babe.

Anyway, I wonder whatever happened to Greg Hawkes, the keyboardist? I know Ric Ocasek’s still producing, and Elliott Easton, the guitar player, is still going strong. Back when the “Jackie Brown” soundtrack came out, I was delighted to see that Quentin Tarantino’s music supervisor chose that fabulous instrumental from his band, the Tiki Gods. Someone back on the Velvet Rope forum mentioned him, and soon the praise started pouring in, especially for his solo on “Touch and Go,” from “Panorama.” I just downloaded it from iTunes and must say, this man rolls. Someone on the forum described it as pure poetry and that’s fairly accurate. Christ on a skateboard! Didn’t this album come out the summer before I started sixth grade at the White Lake School, though? What a creepy time that was, going from public to private school and the murder of Dorothy Stratten. Anyway, I think I might need to pop down to Forever Young and buy it, or find it used on Amazon’s Marketplace just to get over that eek-a-licious association, if for no other reason. Unfortunately, iTunes doesn’t have “All Mixed Up” from the first Cars album, so add that one to the list, too. Twist my arm.


Songs swirling through my head lately, making life bearable:

Graham Coxon – Bittersweet Bundle of Misery. Speaking of pure poetry. Purely pithy pop poetry, that is. I’d been listening to a lot of Julian Cope’s original “World Shut Your Mouth” and “Fried” CDs lately, along with my favorite Syd Barrett stuff, and this fell nicely into step with all that. Then “Freakin’ Out” comes in and gets all Buzzcocks on my ass. Looks like this may be another purchase in the near future.

Harold Melvin and The Blue Notes – Don’t Leave Me This Way. This one leaves the Thelma Houston version trailing beads and feathers in the dust. It’s fuller bodied, full-tilt boogie time, making you want to “freaky-deaky,” as Buck Swope would say.

Calexico – Praskovia. I get a perverse thrill partially blaming my grandmother’s German side of the family for this sort of thing. Her grandfather, I believe it was, shot a guy at a bar in Bremerhaven and had to flee to Mexico with his family, settling up north, near Monterey. They’re probably - in their own way - indirectly responsible for bringing this din over with them.

Eurythmics – I Need You. Jesus. This sounds as great as it did the first time I heard it. Danny sent this to me and I’d forgotten how Annie Lennox tears her way through it with the greatest of ease, this song of unbridled, unhealthy obsession – the one that sounds like it should be sung by someone taking that last Seconal with a swig of Stoli. Danny says it should be used in a commercial for a campaign against domestic violence. No shit. I can totally see it.