In the first six years of Jheri Curl June, we’ve had occasion to cover two of what I like to call the “Three Stars” of Jheri Curl Music: Midnight Star and Starpoint. So, now that we’re on year seven, I think it’s past time that we gave Star #3, a.k.a. Atlantic Starr, their due.
I’ll admit, there’s a reason why it took us so long. Atlantic Starr is my least favorite of the “Three Stars” by some margin; their music, particularly during the peak of their late-’80s crossover success, tended to be softer and more ballad-heavy, verging on adult-contemporary, compared to their similarly-named peers. And yet, as any true Jheri curl connoisseur knows, there’s a time and a place for soft (and wet!). And “Love Me Down” (not to be confused with Ready for the World‘s previously-featured “Love You Down“), from the group’s 1982 album Brilliance, is the perfect companion for those moments when you just want to let your hair down–as much as a Jheri curl will allow, anyway–and unwind. The groove is smooth but still funky, with Sharon Bryant’s sultry vocals mellowing Wayne Lewis’ bass-synth and David Lewis’ rhythm guitar like ice in a glass of cognac. So, Atlantic Starr, welcome to the party; we’re sorry it took us so long to let you in, but it’s a whole lot more chill now that you’re here.
We’ll be back tomorrow–in the meantime, as always, check out the Spotify and YouTube playlists below!
This track by Mystic Merlin is a great early Jheri Curl song: funky but still mellow, with a real horn section and a clear disco bent with its Nile Rodgers-esque guitar riff. Mystic Merlin was initially a novelty band who incorporated magician acts in their live shows. Their 1982 album Full Moon continues with the mystical, magical motif. Many of the track titles include some reference to magic, and the album cover (see above) is an image of the band dressed in harem pants and turbans and posed with a scimitar, an hour glass, and a genie lamp, all in front of what is ironically a waning gibbous moon.
The final track on the album, “Mindreader,” opens with the verse: “I know what you’re thinking / by the look in your eyes / I’m a magician / and a master of disguise / but I can’t disguise this feeling / and it’s very plain to see / you can tell I’m digging you girl…” That’s right folks, magicians need love too.
Full Moon would be Mystic Merlin’s last album with singer Freddie Jackson, who went on to have a successful career as a solo artist.
We’ll be back tomorrow with more magical Jheri Curl picks. Playlists below:
So, let’s begin with the elephant in the room. As you might recall, last year the month of June began mere days after the police murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis, which made the idea of a semi-irreverent celebration of dated Black music and hairstyles by two privileged White people feel… tone-deaf, to say the least. It was also, of course, less than three months into a once-in-a-lifetime (knock on wood) global pandemic… long story short, we just weren’t in a party mood. But now it’s a year later; and, while the copsstillhaven’tstopped killing Black people–nor, despite what our respective homestates‘ governors apparently think, is the pandemic over–I think we could all use the mood lift that only the smoothest, silkiest ’80s R&B can provide.
For those of you who are new here (or just need a refresher), “Jheri Curl Music” is our name for a specific brand of glossy, heavily synthesized post-disco R&B music from the early-to-mid ’80s–it’s kind of like our yacht rock, except not even 1% as successful or widely recognized. For details, see our original introduction post from 2014, our 2016 video, or our 2018 podcast. We dedicate each June to celebrating this unsung art form: mostly because “Jheri Curl” and “June” are nicely alliterative, but also because early summer is the perfect time to roll down your windows, let the wind blow through your hair (or, if you’re rocking a J.C. yourself, let it blow kind of against and around your hair), and blast some vintage J.C.M.
This year’s Jheri Curl June is a back-to-basics move for us. There will be no long-form artist/producer retrospectives (like we did for Prince, Michael Jackson, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, L.A. Reid, Jesse Johnson, and André Cymone), no Jheri Curl Cinema features (like we did for Purple Rain, The Last Dragon, Moonwalker, and Coming to America), and no special podcast episodes; just a J.C.M. song every weekday for the whole month, with Spotify and YouTube playlists for your listening pleasure. Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t spend our seventh year stretching the boundaries of what belongs under the J.C.M.-brella. That’s why this year, I’m kicking things off with a possibly controversial choice: Eddy Grant’s 1982 reggae-funk hit “Electric Avenue.”
On the surface, reggae and Jheri Curl Music don’t appear to have much in common, aside from their general origins in the African musical diaspora. Hell, just look at each respective genre’s trademark hairstyle: Jheri curls, as has been well established, are glossy and determinedly non-kinky; meanwhile, Rastafari locs (a.k.a. “dreadlocks”) embrace the organic textures of African hair types. Jheri curls have a well-earned reputation for being synthetic and potentially damaging to Black people’s hair follicles (not to mention their furniture), while locs are (rightfully) celebrated as a “natural” hairstyle and an expression of pan-African pride.
And yet, “Electric Avenue” is proof that even styles as diametrically opposed as these can exist in harmony. Oh, sure, Eddy Grant probably wouldn’t have been caught dead with activator in his hair; but who needs an actual Jheri curl when your keyboards are as moist and juicy as the ones on “Electric Avenue”? Meanwhile, Grant’s lyrics–a righteously angry ode to the 1981 uprisings against racist policing and systemic poverty in Brixton, South London–show that Jheri Curl Music, like reggae, can have a political point of view. As far as this writer is concerned, “Electric Avenue” belongs right next to Paul Laurence‘s “Racism!!!” on any self-respecting J.C.M. protest mix.
Speaking of mixes, below you’ll find Spotify and YouTube playlists for this month’s festivities, which we’ll update with every new track. Unfortunately, the Spotify list is currently empty, as “Electric Avenue” does not appear to be available on the service. We can’t blame Eddy Grant, if this was his choice: a banger like this is worth a lot more than the fraction of a cent a Spotify stream earns. But I think we can all agree that our playlists are a little bit weaker for its absence. See you tomorrow!
Well, folks, it took us nine months, but our year-long immersion into the filmography of Mike Myers has finally broken us, as evidenced by the uncontrollable fit of laughter Callie breaks into over the thought of Shrek and Fiona driving around in a giant onion. Listen as the last vestiges of our sanity finally slip away–and then come back in the first week of July when we do it all over again with Shrek the Third!
For the very tiny subset of Dystopian Dance Party listeners who are also children and huge Mike MyersCat in the Hatfans (i.e., literally just Zach’s son), here’s a family-friendly version of our most recent podcast. As an added bonus, by just bleeping out the curse words, we put exactly the same amount of effort into making this appropriate for kids as Brian Grazer and Bo Welch put into the actual movie! SON OF A BI…
After eight months, we’ve finally reached the film that started this whole ridiculous project in the first place… and now, jokes on us, we still have to watch three more Shrek movies. Join us as we discuss The Cat in the Hat, the infamous film that ended live-action adaptations of Dr. Seuss books and Mike Myers‘ career as a movie star, all in one fell swoop. We’re so ex-ciii-ted!
Since the very beginning of this ill-fated project, we’ve been dreading a rewatch of Austin Powers in Goldmember, and let’s just say it didn’t disappoint. Join us as we discuss how Goldmember makes Fat Bastard look like one of the great characters of literary history, and why we’re relieved that there’s still (knock on wood) no sign of a fourth movie on the horizon. We’ll be back by the end of the month with a movie that, somehow, seems like a breath of fresh air at this point: The Cat in the Hat.
The wait is ogre! We’ve reached the halfway point of our 12-month series on the films of Mike Myers, and (sigh) the quarter-way point of the four goddamn Shrek movies we decided to include for some reason. Still, we had fun discussing what makes Shrek a Mike Myers character (spoiler alert: it’s mostly the Scottish accent) and the slow transformation of Shrek from lauded Palme d’Or competitor to Gen Z meme fodder. Remember to tell us which Mike movie represents your birth month, and we’ll see you again next for (deeper sigh) Austin Powers in Goldmember.
Well, folks, we watched the second Austin Powers movie and lived to talk about it. Join us as we discuss infuriating anachronisms, the decline of Mike Myers’ side characters, and of course, the “Urkelization” of Dr. Evil. And then join us next month as we examine the first of… Jesus Christ, are we really watching four Shrek movies?!?!
The bad news is, we’re a day late for Month 4 of our year-long deep dive into the cinematic oeuvre of Mike Myers; but the good news is, the movie we’re discussing may just be the best of the bunch. Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery holds up surprisingly well, and feels in retrospect like Myers’ peak as a singular creative voice. It’s all downhill from here, folks! We’ll be back later in January for what will likely be a much more sobering look at the 1999 sequel, The Spy Who Shagged Me; in the meantime, though, this is our happening, baby, and it freaks us out!