C is for Cosby

Bill Cosby saved the American situation comedy.


Bill Cosby is an iconic individual in my life. It started out with three albums that I listened to so often that I could cite dialogue as well as I could Beatles lyrics, which is to say, quite well.

The problem with describing comedy, though, is it involves context, character development and timing. As the cover of I Started Out as a Child (November 1964) notes, “Cut left at the black Chevy” (from Street Football) is not inherently funny, except as described by the Cos. The album also featured Oops!, a brief bit about the fallacy of the perfection about doctors; and The Lone Ranger, about the masked man and Tonto getting drunk, with the Ranger’s horse Silver telling him, “Get off my back!” But the album also deals with serious topics. Medic is about him being one; “zonked means dead”. And Rigor Mortis, about American funerals, along with my preternatural reading of The American Way of Death by Jessica Mitford, helped formulate my preference for cremation over the casket at an early age.

On Why Is There Air? (January 1965), in Driving in San Francisco, he discusses Lombard Street so accurately that it shows up in the Wikipedia description:
“They built a street up there called Lombard Street that goes straight down, and they’re not satisfied with you killing yourself that way—they put grooves and curves and everything in it, and they put flowers there where they’ve buried the people that have killed themselves. Lombard Street, wonderful street.” (audience reacts with knowing cheers and applause). So the one time I went to San Francisco, in 1988, you KNOW I had to go there.

That album, in $75 Car, has one of the few actual jokes. After Bill has hit a tree, he realizes he has a bunch of tickets in the glove compartment, “Which are like Savings Bonds; the longer you keep them, the greater they mature.”

But arguably the best, and in any case, my favorite album, is Wonderfulness (May 1966), with Tonsils (lies about “all the ice cream in the world”), The Playground (conspiracy by the adults to knock off all the kids), Go Karts (900 cop cars!), and the radio drama The Chicken Heart. This album is so good that when we were driving down to Charlotte, NC in April 2010 and I saw this on CD at a convenience store in Virginia for $5.99, I had to buy it and give it to my 19-year-old niece.

Other albums had great bits. 8:15 12:15 (1969) has a routine about not using the Lord’s name in vain; “I have a friend Rudy; he ain’t doin’ nothin’. Call on him,” which is why I say “Rudy dammit”. To the degree I am funny at all, it is with the situational humor, rather than jokes, a la Cosby.

At the same time as those early albums came out, indeed because of those albums, producer Sheldon Leonard teamed Cosby with Robert Culp in a show called I Spy (1965-1968). Not only was it the predecessor of the “buddy” cop shows and movies, I Spy was the first television show to feature a Black actor in a lead role. Bill Cosby won three consecutive Emmy Awards for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series in 1966, 1967 and 1968. Robert Culp was also nominated in the same category for all three seasons of I Spy. One can find old episodes of I Spy on Hulu, at least in the United States.

I watched Cos on The Bill Cosby Show, about a school teacher, then the kids’ show, Electric Company – an example here – even though I was in college.

Bill Cosby did films, worked on a cartoon series, and did Jell-O commercials – which he’ll be doing again in 2010. Cosby earned a Doctor of Education degree from the University of Massachusetts. “For his doctoral research, he wrote a dissertation entitled, “An Integration of the Visual Media Via ‘Fat Albert And The Cosby Kids’ Into the Elementary School Curriculum as a Teaching Aid and Vehicle to Achieve Increased Learning”.

Then he saved the American situation comedy with The Cosby Show. Don’t believe me? Check out Ken Levine, writer for the TV shows MAS*H and Cheers, among many others. The 1984-1992 show revived a moribund format in the U.S.

The program portrayed black American life as normal if, by “normal”, you mean having a doctor and a lawyer as the parents. It regularly displayed African-American art, music (especially jazz, a Cosby love), and culture as a normal part of everyday life. Here’s a piece of Night Time Is The Right Time.

I always loved the changing theme songs myself:

Season 1
Season 2
Season 3
Season 4
Season 5
Seasons 6 and 7
Season 8

He’s best known recently for his controversial call for black Americans to take more individual responsibility, for which some have castigated him for blaming the poor. His book Come On People: On the Path from Victims to Victors is a New York Times bestseller.

ABC Wednesday – Round 7

Stevie Wonder is 60


Stevie Wonder is 60 years old today. Only 60? Seems that he’s been around forever. I guess that’s what happens when you’re dubbed the “12-year-old genius.” Wish I had the time to indicate all of his significance in my musical life. Among other things, I’ve stated that he and Paul Simon were THE two most important artists in my record collection in the 1970s. Here are just some highlights.

Really don’t remember the earlier singles, such as “Fingertips, Part 2”, except as an oldie. The first song I recall listened to, on the radio, was Uptight (Everything’s Alright) in 1966. I loved it! Later, I got an album from my sister’s godfather, of all people, of Bill Cosby called Silver Throat, where he sings a parody of Uptight called Little Old Man.

My sister owned the 1966 album Down to Earth, containing the title track and A Place In the Sun, the latter a song written by Stevie that everyone at the time seemed compelled to cover. I owned 1970’s Signed Sealed Delivered.

Possibly my favorite Wonder song in the early years was 1967’s “I Was Made to Love Her”

I owned the so-so 1967 Someday At Christmas, though it contains THE great secular Christmas tune, “What Christmas Means to Me.”

Jump to the seventies, the classic period: I owned every album Stevie put out, starting with 1972’s Talking Book (with Superstition and You Are the Sunshine of My Life); 1973’s Innervisions (Higher Ground, Living for the City), and 1974’s Fulfillingness’ First Finale (You Haven’t Done Nothin’ (with The Jackson 5), Boogie On Reggae Woman. I remember hanging out, more than once with one of my political science professors, at his house, listening to those latter two albums.

One of my personal anthems after the breakup of my college romance came from Talking Book and started with:
“Shattered dreams, worthless years,
Here am I encased inside a hollow shell,
Life began, then was done,
Now I stare into a cold and empty well”
With the hope of a future with someone, yet unknown:
“I believe when I fall in love with you it will be forever.”
I find that song still makes me incredibly wistful.

I remember watching Paul Simon’s famous quote on the Grammys when he won for Album of the Year for Still Crazy After All These Years (another melancholy linchpin). In his acceptance speech, Simon jokingly thanked Stevie Wonder for not releasing an album that year; Wonder had won the previous two years, and would the following year.

In the gap between FFF and the next album, I discovered 1971’s Where I’m Coming From and Music of My Mind from 1972, the latter album particularly underrated.

The Grammy winner for 1976 was Songs in the Key of Life, featuring Sir Duke, Isn’t She Lovely, Sir Duke, and my favorite As. It also featured Pastime Paradise, which was later transformed into Coolio’s Gangsta Paradise, which was in turn parodied as Amish Paradise by Weird Al Yankovic.

I bought this 3-LP retrospective called Looking Back, which contained all his charting singles from 1963 through 1970.

1979 brought the strangely unsatisfying, and sometimes weird double album Journey through the Secret Life of Plants, but it was followed by the solid Hotter than July in 1980, with Master Blaster (Jammin), I Ain’t Gonna Stand For It, and the song that helped make the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday a reality, Happy Birthday.

Have all of his subsequent albums that contain new material, some pretty good (Characters), some not so much (Woman in Red soundtrack).

I had this friend Donna. One of our shared passions was Stevie Wonder. At one point I put together a mixed cassette of songs he performed on that were NOT on Stevie albums for her. Didn’t have We Are the World (a great duet with Springsteen) or That’s What Friends Are For (a bit treacly). But it did include, I believe:
That collaboration with Paul McCartney on the latter’s Tug of War album. It is NOT Ebony and Ivory. What’s That You’re Doing, Stevie back in form, and Paul at his rubber soul best.
I’m the One Who Loves You from Tribute To Curtis Mayfield
St. Louis Blues from Gershwin’s World (Herbie Hancock)
Let’s Get Serious by Jermaine Jackson
Seasons of Love from Rent
A couple of songs from Quincy Jones albums
*Others from this list
Donna died a few years back and I wish I had made a copy of the playlist for myself.

Stevie is mostly in the accolades mode, Gershwin award and the like. Strange for a man so relatively young. His album of five years ago I wasn’t thrilled with, and he puts out more compilations and reissues than new stuff. But in his prime, he was a sensational singer/songwriter. His keyboard playing was revolutionary at the time. So I must wish HIM “happy birthday”.

a Stevie Wonder YouTube channel
Official site
Wikipedia

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