Showing posts with label fads. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fads. Show all posts

Saturday, September 6, 2014

wacky tacky Tunes: How Low Can You Go?

By its very definition a fad is ephemeral, lasting only a brief moment, quickly to be replaced by the next big thing.  To be sure, the Limbo lollapalooza reached its zenith in the early 1960s.  It is incredible, however, that this particular fad has enjoyed a staying power heretofore unexperienced by many other dance crazes.

It's as simple as that!!!
(Source)

As well as being the source for countless concussions and several segments on America's Funniest Home Videos, the Limbo continued to entertain my contemporaries at nearly every grade-school birthday party more than twenty years after its heyday.  With no knowledge of its origins or the identity of Chubby Checker, my theory that we enjoyed the Limbo at the hands of lazy parents who got out a broom and some old LPs and told us to "have fun," has the distinct ring of truth to it.  Maybe that's the secret to an enduring fad, setting the bar (both parenting AND Limbo) very low... 

Just a small sampling of '60s-era covers to Limbo albums

The physical manifestation of the 1950s calypso craze, Limbo dancing was born in Trinidad and made famous by "Limbo Queen," Julia Edwards.  Soon called to Hollywood, Edwards and her dance troupe brought the gravity-defying dance into the consciousness of the world via the Rita Hayworth/Robert Mitchum/Jack Lemmon vehicle, Fire Down Below (1957).

The undisputed Queen of Limbo, Julia Edwards
(Source)

In spite of the immodesty inherent in dancing the Limbo (even the most demure photos of vintage Limbo, when shot straight-on, were enough to make me blush), it wasn't long before everyone - and their mother - was trying to contort his or her body into the most unnatural positions with the expectation of somehow successfully writhing/scooching under a stick suspended mere inches off the ground.  Edwards quickly upped the Limbo ante by setting the Limbo Pole under which she danced alight - the Flaming Limbo!  Novelty tunes written to accompany such dramatic Limbo performances also caught on like wildfire.

"Limbo Song" - Frankie Anderson (1961)

"Ali Baba Limbo" - Lord Jayson & His Limbo Gang

"Limbo All de Way Home" - "Ivy" Pete & His Limbomaniacs (1963)

The most successful Limbo-themed composition was of course, "Limbo Rock," interpreted by many, perhaps most-famously by the King of American dance crazes, namely Chubby Checker.  My earliest memory of this song was in the Tilted Acres scene of John Waters' ode to '60s teenage dance culture, Hairspray.

"Limbo Rock" - Chubby Checker (1962)

"Limbo Rock" - The Champs (1962)
Is admitting that I like this version a little better a Limbo taboo?

With myriad other Limbo songs like "Limbo Wobble," "Papa Loves to Limbo," "Limbo and the Blues," "Limbo Man," "Out on a Limb-o," "Limbo for Lovers (what an incredible feat of strength and dexterity that would be)," and "Let There Be Limbo," it was obvious that Limbo was a full-fledged, bona fide fad.

"Limbo" - Nina & Frederick (1960)
Denmark's dynamic duo


"Let the Little Girl Limbo" - Doris Day (1963)
I love that at the end of the song, she throws down the Limbo gauntlet to Mr. Checker.
But when she says, "Look out, Chubby, here I come," I prefer to think that she's talking to me.

By the time a craze reaches both Denmark and Doris (as well as becoming The Hokey-Pokey's dance partner on almost every children's album ever made), you know it has reached cultural critical mass.  It's kind of like having Pat Boone cover a real rock 'n roll song - when the squares (this coming from a Doris Day devotee and hardcore danish -pastry- fan) were in, the coolness of the Limbo was on its way out.  Although as I've said, it never really went away; for decades now, children and drunken people the world over continue to bend themselves in half backward as they clumsily attempt to shimmy under a glorified mop handle.


All the kids may be back in school, but summer isn't officially over for at least two more weeks.  With plenty of Limbo time left, I must ask, do you Limbo?  How low can you go?  In the world of Limbo, the depth to which Mr. Tiny can lower himself knows no bounds; I have resigned myself to forever being just one of the people holding the Limbo Stick.


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Monday, May 7, 2012

Hoopin' It Up!

I have threatened to give up on learning.  Sometimes I think that there is only so much information that my brain is capable of retaining and I fear that I am near max capacity with the essentials - movie trivia, the schedule of my TV programs, and how many ounces are in a cup.  Before I discontinue the learning process entirely, I just need to know one more thing, just one more thing and I'm done.  Since when did hula hooping become performance art?  

Not so very long ago, we went to a local "art walk," you know the kind - open galleries, vendors peddling their wares, artists, food trucks, music, hula hoopers....Hula hoopers?!!!  Yep, the headlining act for the evening was a hula-hooper...45 solid minutes of nothing but hoopin'.  Don't get me wrong, I appreciate some fancy hoopin', but 45 minutes?  By minute seventeen, I was a little, shall we say, irritated.  

Show off!
(Source)

I could have walked away, but nothing gets me as committed to a one-sided standoff like my own irritation.  Was I irritated by the hooper's unbelievable stamina?  Was I irritated by the costume choice - vampire Rainbow Bright meets homeless, pirate/stripper/hippie/nurse?  Was I irritated by the inexplicable musical selections?  (My next project is a compilation album; the working title is, "Songs to Hoop By," but I'm actually leaning towards, "Hoop, There It Is").  Was I irritated by the fact that no matter how hard I try, I have NEVER been able to master the proper hula motion and therefore, in the last 30+ years have never successfully hooped?  Had I allowed the seething bitterness of jealousy to overcome the entirety of my being?

While it's never been in women's foundation garments, I have always
pictured myself being able to hula hoop for hours with the similar
carefree countenance  of these happy hoopers.
(Source)

In short, yes.  The fact is, I pride myself on moving with relative ease.  I love to dance and hula is in my family.  My mother's formative years were spent in Hawaii (hula lessons/performances were basically mandatory) and my brother-in-law, a native Hawaiian, has worked as a professional Polynesian dancer.  Okay, so the actual Hula and the Hula Hoop have very little in common, but come on, what gives?  Why can't I hoop it up?  My best guess has something to do with a pathetic combination of factors - the relative girth of my equator, damnable gravity, and the fact that for my entire life I have been plagued by nothing but an endless stream of faulty Hula Hoops (I am concurrently penning a strongly-worded letter to the higher-ups at Wham-O).

The girl on the right is my personal hero.  Hoopin' and eating?
Heaven must be missing an angel!!
(Source)

Yeah, I can swirl it on my arm and even around my neck.  Yeah, when I was much smaller, I could use it as a "jump rope," but I could never shake the feeling that I was my parents' biggest disappointment when they saw all of the other kids on the block - feet firmly planted, knees bent, moving in an otherworldly rhythm creating a deafening hum as the beans or rice or BB gun pellets (or whatever it is they put inside there) swirled in seemingly perpetual motion - and then saw me, probably picking my nose and pretending the hoop was a steering wheel on a giant car.

That would be me - the one looking for a hiding place in the armpit of a
girl and bracing myself for impact, afraid that the hoop would somehow
break free and hit me in the face.  "No, not my glasses!"
(Source)

Anyhow, all of this got me thinking about the Hula Hoop.  My tendency is to think of pop culture fads exclusively as historical relics. I am always operating under the mistaken notion of "simpler times, simpler minds."  But try telling yourself just how terribly-modern and sophisticated you are whilst performing "The Macarena."  The mere mention of "The Macarena" reminds us that we've all been unwitting participants in the pop culture paradigm at some point in history.  Sorry, sorry, to quickly get your mind off of "The Macarena," here are some fun facts about the Hula Hoop. 

* Based on an Australian design, Hula Hoops were trademarked by Wham-O, Inc. in 1958.

* In the first four months of production, over 25 million Hula Hoops were sold (more than 100 million 
   in the first year).

* The first Hula Hoop-themed song was recorded by Teresa Brewer in 1958.

"Hula Hoop" - Teresa Brewer (1958)

* The Hula Hoop was inducted into The National Toy Hall of Fame in 1999.

* Ball bearings were the original noisemakers added to the inside of the Hula Hoop after a drastic drop  
   in sales in the mid-1960's.

* The origins of a similar hoop being used for exercise/recreation date back to the 6th Century B.C.

* I am hopeless at hoopin'.

* Although it didn't really happen that way, The Hudsucker Proxy ingeniously used The Hula Hoop as   
   a device to tell the story of corporate greed.

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)


* Some famous hoopers of yesteryear include Art Linkletter, Jane Russell, and Sue Lyon.

Art Linkletter showing kids that adults do the darnedest things.
(Source)

Jane Russell making it look easy.
(Source)
Sue Lyon's seduces James Mason in Lolita.
Not to get too deep (or too obvious, maybe?), but could they have chosen a more appropriate
 and effective tool than the Hula Hoop to communicate the danger of Lolita -
all the innocence of a child's toy and all the hip action of much more adult pastimes
(Source)

I guess I can stop learning now as my question appears to have been answered.  Judging by this vintage photograph taken from Life magazine, hoopin' has been a performance art from the Hula Hoop's earliest days.

A performer at a nightclub floor
show getting her hoop on!
Now that's my kind of art!!!
(Source)

Here's hopin' your hoopin' is a heapin' helpin' better than mine!!!

 
"Rock-A-Hula"


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny