Swedish Erotica

Swedish Meatball Sandwich?

Here I was all set to blog about anything than what came up tonight-Abba. A local PBS station looking for donations ran an hour long cut of a 1979 concert starring the Swedish quartet. Agnetha, Benny, Bjorn and, uh, the other girl represented everything great and gaudy about 70's pop. The music was distinctly European, pop with an Operatic flair and scampering classical piano runs sang by two sirens in matching spandex jumpsuits. They were loved in the 70's, trashed in the 80's and rediscovered in the 90's without any effort to further career past 1982.

Their music was as undeniable in it's catchiness as their image was in their cheesiness. A type of cheesiness that couldn't exist in the media saturated world we live in now, where people could get away with appearing wholesome, positive and earnest. Could a band get away with singing peppy songs about Fernando, Waterloo and Dancing Queens? I don't think so. And if such a band existed now, the media would research and hound them until we found out they were ego maniacal jerks who do lots of drugs and sleep with the Paris Hiltons and Kim Kardashians of the world (both the men and the women). But their music has stood the test of time as in their absence those songs and more have been transformed to a stage musical and soon to be motion picture.

As my wife mentioned tonight, millions of dollars can't get this group back together which is some serious hate. The men and women were all married to each other at some point so it's not like they don't know each other. But as it seems there will never be an ABBA reunion, in its place I'll post a video I found tonight.

The video is an aligning of soft rock superpowers that I have never seen before in my lifetime. ABBA, Olivia Newton John and Andy Gibb in their late 70's glory singing medleys of their big hit songs together. The power of castrato voices and flipped blond Farrah Fawcett Majors hair is blinding. Now I have to admit, liking this stuff is not the most manly thing I've done in my life. But gosh darn it, sometimes I gotta hear some squeaky clean pop. And when you hear Newton John sing "Hopelessly Devoted To You", it'll make you realize how weak this years crop on American Idol is in comparison.

All the nice memories of tube socks, tank tops with trucker slogans and skateboards with urethane wheels come flooding back with the sounds of the Swedish wonders. And just for kicks, I'm throwing in one of my favorite ABBA tunes at the end, "The Name of The Game".

Abba