One of the great mysteries of the original Comedy Acres era was this - why was so much of the music devoted to the desultory exploits of a fella named Zemel? In thinking back, I recall that over half the drunken songs recorded in Kastenland Studios were directly related to the deeply problematic and ultimately uninteresting matter of Zemel's love life. There was also an amazing variety of genres involved, including reggae (The "Rob Zemel Reggae"), a Johnny Rivers pastiche ("Secret Asian Man"), free jazz (Smalley's classic WBCR chantings over the stylings of Appleton's very own Fire and Ice) and that classic straight-ahead rocker with nascent hip-hop overtones ("Wanna Juana"). Our Man Zemel, the man, Rob, the man, Mr. Zemel, wasn't especially musical himself, although he did bear a passing resemblance to Roger Daltrey (and coincidentally to Roger Murdock, the perverted pilot character in the movie "Airplane").
In some respects, this somewhat shy son of the wealthy doctor by the lake was the Everyman of Comedy Acres; earnest, amusing and well-respected on campus, but with more strikeouts than the Coon Rapids Little League team. More than 20 years on, it seems strange. But I can still hear the stinging acoustic guitar, dub syncopation and drunken voices, screaming as one:
Robbie's father was a rich man
Wealthy doctor by the lake
Gouging patients to support him
It was his ultimate mistake (a big mistake)
Ah, poetry.
2 comments:
Now he trip the light fandango. And he be dance the swivel hips...
Interesting observation. Perhaps proof that somehow, way down inside, we all realize that it's Rob Zemel's world, and we're just living in it. Although I do recall some other songs (Off the Market, Fast Eddie You've got to roll, Names to the Authorities) that were directed elsewhere. I think the thing was that the first Zemel song went so well, we just continued to follow the formula, turning Brannon (if I spell and recall that correctly) into our own little private Brill Building. Had I chosen to write about the Sandinistas instead of Zemel, perhaps I could now have horrible teeth and be the new lead singer of The Clash, as opposed to a struggling solo artist with some impressive American dental work. Our choices in life do lead to consequence. Just ask Mike Sherman about Ahmad Carroll.
The Pack looked dominant this week. They have a defense that is truly capable of playing with some swagger, and Brandon Jackson and James Jones are looking like keepers. Colin Jenkins is clearly devoting a substantial portion of his life to demonstrating that he is not Cledius Hunt, which is a path that I suppose we should all emulate, not that I ever find myself falling into a Cledius Hunt mold. I do admit to a brief Paul Ott Carruth phase in the late 1990's, but with the help of a fine treatment center, I am now following the Rich Wingo path to fame and fortune beyond your wildest dreams.
A. Truck Driver
Indeed, there were other songs about other people - lest we forget the "Annie Dyson Blues," "Duane and Binky's House," "Janesville State of Mind" and "Free Nelson Van Valen," among others. We were actually pretty fecund in those days. Lot of creative tension going when you don't have girls, I'm thinkin'.
Ultimately, I guess I'm just a smidge disturbed to claim Zemel as a muse. The implications of that aren't so good, if you know what I mean and I think you do. Then again, Allen built an impressive body of work surrounding the evanascent charms of one Kathy Nagel, purveyor of her own personal Rocky Mountain High, even though she was never really a factor in any of our 1980s pursuits. Guess you get your muses where you can find them.
Didn't see any of the Pack, but I sure liked the box score. I think they're on the tube this week, so I'll get a look. I too, am doing my level best to avoid emulating Cletidus Hunt in any way. Good plan, sir!
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