Thursday, January 29, 2004
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Goldberg: Reunited, feels so good

By Tod Goldberg

Like the rest of you, I've spent the last week of my life watching "Bands Reunited" on VH-1, marveling at how everyone who was skinny and cool in the '80s, including myself, is now fat and angry...but ready to let bygones be bygones (unless, of course, you're that chick from Klymaxx who has decided to meet in her own damn lady's room, thank you very much). As a rule, I'm not much for reality TV--unless it's Nick & Jessica or the new show all about Dave Navarro's wedding planning, which, if he were not the coolest rock god ever, would be the biggest sign of commercial sell-out in the history of the world, except, yeah, Dave Navarro is Jesus in spandex, y'all--but the drama of watching the members of A Flock of Seagulls reuniting is riveting and the performances are fraught with the kind of raw emotion one usually only finds on "Cheaters."

The silly thing, of course, is that all the bands, most notable in its absurdity the aforementioned Flock, talk about their careers as if they were the Beatles during their heyday, when, in truth, most were one-hit wonders (if that...quick, name one song by The Alarm) who had marginal followings. But who cares? I saw Dramarama in concert about 50 times and damn near cried when they called it quits, so the mere chance of seeing them live again, albeit on TV with that annoying VH-1 host milling about like the latter-day saint Richard Blade, was and is enough to make my living room TV the equivalent of the roof of Apple Records.

In the words of Schindler, or at least Liam Neeson, they could have done more. Though it's only a matter of time before VH-1 realizes it has a gold mine on its hands and thus turns it into a bloated and ugly thing featuring Michael Ian Black doing cynical voice-overs, I believe there are at least six more episodes that must be filmed...and that I should be the man to get these people back together. Let this be the first shot fired across the bow to:

NWA. Let's face, if they dig up Eazy-E and put him up on stage with Cube, Dre, Yella and Ren, that would be the shit, yo. But, federal health rules withstanding, just putting the four remaining members in one room together would create some fascinating TV dynamics as Yella and Ren bitch and whine about keeping it real, knowwhatimsaying, while Dre and Cube go about conquering the world of rap and entertainment. It might be hard to find Mr. Yella and Mr. Ren, but my sources tell me both were spotted working at Marshalls.

The "Fame" kids. Faced with the daunting task of getting Gene Anthony Ray back from the dead might prove challenging, but can you imagine watching those feisty fortysomethings stopping traffic to dance on the hoods of taxis yet again? For a brief period--about as long as Kajagoogoo was popular--the kids from "Fame" had the world at their fingertips. Now, wouldn't it be fun to see...uh...well, there's the guy on "E.R." and, uh, there's Irene Cara, I'm sure she's free, and, well, Debbie Allen can't be overly busy. Anyway, remember again the majesty, the beauty, the artistry that made "Fame" such a very important part of our lives.

The rock stars of "General Hospital." On drums, John Stamos. On lead guitar, Rick Springfield. On bass, Jack Wagner. Getting these three disparate performers in one room together might well raise the stock price of Aqua Net tenfold as each tries to recall the halcyon days of feathered mullets whilst discussing which ex-starlets they bagged in their real and fictional glory days. Linda Blair? Check. Demi Moore? Check. Heather Locklear? Check. And then, as Rick and Jack debate which county fairs have the best backstage spread, John could extol the virtues of marrying well and doing calling card commercials. But it would be the jam session that would really knock down some plaster--and thousands of frumpy 40-year-old women. Can you say ratings bonanza?

Shields & Yarnell. There aren't a lot of famous mimes and even fewer famous mime duos, so imagine how happy America would be if VH-1 could put together a command performance by these legends. While a simple web search confirms that the duo are actually still together and not, as I assumed, either dead or institutionalized (lots of mimes lead very depressed lives), most people who loved the side-splitting silent comedy of these masters of annoyance would certainly appreciate a return to televised glory for the great lost art of invisible boxes.

Ike & Tina. Oh, like you wouldn't watch?

The 1989 Oakland A's. While not singers or mimes, the 1989 A's where a fantastic blend of power, speed and ferocious pitching...plus, they knew how to win in the playoffs, unlike the current version of my favorite baseball team, and didn't even let a cataclysmic earthquake get in their way. Where have you gone, Mark McGwire and Dave Stewart? VH-1 turns its lonely eyes to you...
Tod Goldberg's latest novel is Living Dead Girl.