I live on the north side. She lives on the west. The west is the worst side. The north is the best. Her mother's a drunk. Her father's a punk. But I know that our love could be real. But we're star-crossed. We're like Romeo & Juliet. Star-crossed She just dont belong in my social set. But I know that someday The Lord will look our way, and we'll be free. We meet in the shadows and wish on a star. We kiss in a phone booth or under a car. Our friends put us down. They say we're a clown. But it hurts. Yes, it hurts in my heart... That we're star-crossed. We're like lollipops and caviar. Star-crossed So we'll drive up to the reservoir. Even though it's a sin We'll throw each other in And we'll be free. (Michael McKean, Squignowski Music/Paramount Music. Note: Both my partner and I searched high and low for the most recent publishing info on this song. I apologize to the rights holders if the listed credit is not accurate. That said, we did prepay the mechanical royalties as we don't own the song. Would be cool as hell if I wrote/owned this one.)
I’m not exactly sure how old I was, but my two earliest memories are:
(1) Being transfixed by Jimmy Webb’s song Galveston (via Glen Campbell) in my grandmother’s East Boston house while I was struggling to reach the pedals of my minutes-old Big Wheel trike.
(2) Lying in my mother’s arms in an inverted dome wicker chair watching another Dark Shadows character try to kill Barnabas Collins by sealing him in a brick-walled tomb. I remember that Barnabas’s eyes were all that could be seen through the final brick-shaped space. I don’t think I was scared as much as fascinated.
This post is too short to get into the psychology of it, but music, bicycles and television would be (and still are) a combined big part of my life.
Jumping forward a few years, a memorable TV/music nexus moment in my young life was watching Lenny and the Squigtones perform StarCrossed on Laverne And Shirley. I guess I was 10 or 11. I wouldn’t touch a musical instrument for another five or six years. And the only “song” I had written (age nine) was a two-verse ripoff of David Soul’s Don’t Give Up on Us Baby. But it didn’t/doesn’t take a songwriter to know that StarCrossed is a great song. I wanted to hear it again and again, but in 1979 there was no rewind. I’d have to wait for syndication or reruns.
Obviously, the song was delivered comedically on Laverne And Shirley, and the studio audience laughed at all the right places. But for me the comedic stylings flaked right off the song. All I heard and felt was a powerful song. During the lead break Squiggy (David Lander) plays a clarinet solo like someone who’d never before touched a clarinet. Lenny (Michael McKean) and band drive on through the chord changes. It’s a good old-school comedy gag, and even as a kid I got it. Still, I do remember being a little irked. It was like Squiggy had interrupted a good yawn or the run-up to a much-needed sneeze. Why would he mangle such a good song? (Ha! I am currently laughing at myself and the 10 year old head-case I was.)
Speaking of excellent songs…
Michael McKean has written/co-written more than a few. And while he’s well-known for being an excellent comedic songwriter, to me he’s simply an excellent songwriter. A good song is a good song is a good song. Writing them with any consistency is a type of rocket science. To quote Bob Dylan in his famous 60 Minutes interview: You try writing that.
If it hasn’t been done yet, someone (maybe me) needs to put into more words than this brief substack exactly what makes Michael McKean’s songs great. Night after Night (McKean/Lander) and The Look which (were also performed on Laverne And Shirley) are also really good songs. If you don’t recall them or StarCrossed I highly recommend you search for them.
Anyway, I have wanted to record a zero irony cover of StarCrossed for years. The version you just heard was done on my sofa, live to my iPhone. I played my LaPatrie nylon string guitar and my Shure MV88 mic. I dropped the wav file into Logic, sucked out some of the low mids, added a bit of reverb and spat it out. The track was converted to mp3 which is not my preferred format, but it’s required by Substack.
This recording is dedicated to the late great David Lander. A legit comedic genius. (And he loved baseball, so more power to him.) Sure, Squiggy kind of derailed the song for ten year old me with his tweaked clarinet, but his harmony on the chorus pushed all of my buttons flush to the console.
Thanks a lot for coming by. Take care of yourselves and those around you. —JP
(Tomorrow I’ll be posting a Substack about my song Hundred Dollar Pocket for my paid subscribers. The post will include the earliest (1997) four-track demo version of the song. Feel free to subscribe if you’d like to read/hear.)
StarCrossed