The birth of rap/hip hop was an ugly thing. Can you believe some of these lyrics?
If you’re not a square
from Delaware
And you’ve got on clean underwear
And your Momma ain’t on welfare….
Oops…. I just threw up in my mouth a little.
Nevertheless, there was never a shortage of shaking asses on the dance floor when the DJ played this song. This song was the first commercial recording with the phrase “The Roof! The Roof! The Roof is on fire!”, which has since entered popular culture. This song actually peaked at #5 on the charts in early 1985.
A story that rotated around campus (veracity unproven) was that a warehouse close to campus caught fire. A group of onlookers - including college students - assembled to watch the fire department battle the blaze. Someone had brought a boom-box and played this song. The police and firemen were not amused.
The Roof is on Fire, by Rock Master Scott & the Dynamic Three
As I mentioned before, I started college in the winter semester after taking some time off after high school. I’ve already written about my first roommate, Chris. Our room was on the second floor. Right above me was a guy named Kenny, who also grew up in Calvert County, although he attended the other high school (there were only two). We both had worked at McDonalds; that’s how I knew him. He had also briefly dated Bruce’s sister (whose name I can’t remember), who also worked at McDonald’s. I guess you’ve figured out by now that about the only place for a teenager to work in Calvert County was McDonald’s!
It was through Kenny that I met Bob, who I ended up rooming with through most of college. I was Bob’s best man at his wedding as well, and still speak with him occasionally today.
That January, fresh off of Christmas break, Kenny was pretty eager to show of his new stereo. It had dual cassette decks, which at the time was pretty cool. He had a whole plan to dub tapes for people to make money. To show off how great his new system sounded, he put on this song, which was pretty high on the charts at the time.
I’m not much of a fan of top 40s pop, not now and not in 1986,the likes of when the charts were topped by Whitney Houston, Madonna, Lionel Richie, and, yes, Samantha Fox. Nevertheless, this song holds a special place in my wetware.
Besides the main three college clubs/bars (The Phoenix, The Flying Club, and Circle Bar) there was another one on the north side of Salisbury we rarely ventured to for no other reason than it required driving. The Phoenix and Flying clubs were within walking distance, so stumbling home after a night of overindulgence was no problem. The Circle Bar, being a more laid back pool-shooting place, wasn’t somewhere we went to get hammered, so the brief three-mile drive from campus wasn’t an issue.
This last club (whose name escapes me) was about 10 minutes away. It was a big place, a kind of country and western themed hangout, which is another reason why we didn’t frequent it. But one Saturday they had a big event they promoted relentlessly on campus via fliers plastered everywhere: a group of female exotic dancers was going to perform. A five dollar cover got you in the door and two beers, so we got the group together and headed out.
Accompanying us on this trip was Jim; a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed fellow whose only problem with the ladies was beating them off. Jim was also a bit fastidious, which, as you’ll see later, has a bearing on this tale.
The show started at 10:00. We arrived around nine and got a table. There was no stage, but a space had been cleared out against one wall to make a dance floor. By the time 10:00 rolled around, the club was pretty packed, most of them being guys (and a few ladies) from the college.
There were around eight girls or so who, after a song or two, left the dance floor and began working the crowd, grinding on people and giving lap dances. Much cheering ensued. This song was about halfway done when a cute - and totally nude - blond dancer climbed onto Jim’s lap and rode him for the whole rest of the song, seriously rubbing her naked boobs all over his face. He sat there and endured, his expression indicating he’d have rather been just about anywhere other than where he was.
When the song ended and she finally moved away, we razed him pretty good.
“How’d you like that Jim?” we asked.
Jim did not look happy. “Her boobs have been licked by at least ten guys and she just rubbed them all over my face. How would you like it?”
Here’s another uber-nerd teen-and-hot-chick movie I recall with fondness.
It was 1985, I was in my second semester at college, Anthony Edwards had hair, Ronald Reagan was in his second term, Rock Hudson died of aids, and Madonna has just launched her first tour, Like a Virgin.
How’s this for genre: a teen romantic spy thriller. Anthony Edwards and his buddies are fans of a game called Gotcha on their college campus. This game is actually based on a real college game of the same type called Assassins. Although Edwards is the Gotcha champ, when it comes to women he misses the mark. When he and his friend take a trip to Europe, Edwards meets sexy Linda Fiorentino (fresh off of Vision Quest), complete with short, sleek black hair and a husky, Czechoslovakian accent.
There’s this scene where Edwards is fleeing from murderous Russian spies, hiding out in a van driven by a trio of German punk rockers. As the multi-colored van drove along the highway, this song plays.
Once this movie hit video (VHS, not DVD!), my friends and I must have watched it a dozen times.
