What a great movie. I can’t think of a better film that captures everything I love about life. That’s an overstatement, but if you’ve seen this flick, you know what I’m talking about. It just makes you feel good, and not in a cop-out, blockbuster sort of way. It was made well with one of Hollywood’s few “white knights” (ahem, Tom Hanks).
My favorite scene? In the studio towards the end, when Guy jams with Del Paxton (I hope I’m not ruining it, but if you, Constant Reader, haven’t seen this movie…well, you probably wouldn’t be reading this little blog because the universe where you live that doesn’t include That Thing You Do! is a universe where I do not and will not exist). That scene helped shape my desire to create music, to contribute something creative and artistic to this world even if only a few people heard it.
Guy loved music. That’s why he was the main character. The good guy. The one that could do no wrong. Jimmy, as Mr. White (Tom Hanks) said, was the talent. He didn’t appreciate music as much as Guy, because he had that natural ability to write a great song and yeah, it went to his head. Who wouldn’t want to be engaged to a gal like Liv Tyler, or at least a gal that was played by Liv Tyler? Seriously. Todd Rundgren was her legal guardian for Something/Anything?’s sake!
I can’t say that any aspect of this film is bad. The theme song, written by the great Mike Viola (who produced Mandy Moore’s Amanda Leigh) and Adam Schlesinger (of Fountains of Wayne fame), is a course in classic pop songwriting. Never mind Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On.” “That Thing You Do!” has stood the test of time.
Side Note: By the way, do you know how many times we listened to “My Heart Will Go On” in Spanish in 5th grade? I don’t know! I don’t remember! Which means that it was more than once. That was back when I was living and breathing pop music on the radio. Kiss FM (106.1 ya’ll), Hot 100 (100.3, the more “urban” Kiss FM), you know what I’m talking about, Southlake, TX. I distinctly remember that Kiss FM was playing an alternate version of “My Heart Will Go On” with actual quotes from Titanic. The same thing happened with Bruce Springsteen’s “Secret Garden” when Jerry McGuire came out. And people ate it up! I’m making an assumption here, because I ate it up and I heard it all the time.
I think my first experiences with certain emotions came from Pop radio. Heartache (is that even an emotion?) was one of them. My Mom was driving me to hockey practice. What did my heart ache about? I don’t know. But “Genie in a Bottle” was making me long for someone. It wasn’t even someone. It was just some entity, some idea. This feeling of being caught up in an interaction with a girl that went beyond the scope of cootie resistance.
Pop music in the late 1990s had created this void inside me. The music was telling me “you have to find a girl and love on her and get her to love on you…and by love on, we mean awkwardly slow dance with her at the next middle school extracurricular socializing event.” All the while, I’m thinking “Okay, just as soon as I get frosted tips, start shopping at Structure, and try out for one of the four football teams.” So Pop music is the leading cause to coupling. Interesting.
Another emotion I first felt through Pop radio was Aggression. I think it came when “Forgot About Dre” hit the airwaves. It was 7th grade. And for some reason, the song resonated with me. It wasn’t about feeling a connection with the subject matter then. Did I have any idea what it felt like to be bombarded by younger rappers trying to upstage and replace me? No. It was more about feeling cool. My parents let me get the edited version of Chronic 2001 at Wal-Mart. I don’t know why. Maybe I made a fuss? Maybe they weren’t aware of the album’s content? What I do know is that I wanted to have sex/have slightly-more-than-platonic relations with as many attractive girls as possible at that age. And by knowing a song that Eminem rapped on, I’d be in the right direction.
Side, Side Note:I had to scratch my head for a minute about the continuity here. If Chronic 2001 would have actually come out in 2001, I would have been in 9th grade, well into my post-punk/ska phase. But alas, Dr. Dre’s masterpiece came out in 1999, putting me in 7th Grade with a lot to lose and a lot to gain, workin my way up the middle school food chain. See that? I came up with that rhyme just now.
Wow. That Thing You Do! to Chronic 2001. This single post covered just about everything you wanted to learn today/night.
Well, I’ve run out of steam here at Minutiae Music Land. As you can tell, this was a very stream-of-conscious post, but I plan on revisiting the topic of Pop radio in the 1990s because I think it was pretty integral to my growth as a humanitarian/man of the people/songwriter/regular dude just trying to bide his time.
And by the way, in all seriousness: Dawes’ North Hills is on constant playback here at the Great Pagoda of Fun(n). And also Cory Chisel & the Wandering Sons’ Death Won’t Send a Letter. Both are very nice albums that make me hopeful for the future. And I say this, because you, Constant Reader, are hear to seek out my guiding light (read: my opinion on contemporary music).
