By Cathy Heard, Web Content Developer and Graphic Designer for WXPN

As a pop culture junkie I have some firm rules about cheese, i.e. entertainment of the “so bad, it’s good” variety. My first rule: I infinitely prefer crap to the vast, banal middle or the mediocre. Just don’t bore me. If, as an artist, you suspect your efforts will strike out in the talent and innovation department, try to do so in a way that will leave me laughing. Strike out in a way the public has never witnessed before. Always attempt to leave your audience wondering what you were thinking or suspecting you might not have been thinking at all. Make ‘em wonder what drugs you’re on. To my fellow audience members, ironic appreciation is bullsh*t. Which brings me to rule number two: Just own up to loving your “guilty pleasures”. In fact, don’t label something a “guilty pleasure”. Just revel in your quirky lack of snob-approved taste.

Somehow, this is in my genetic makeup. I know there probably isn’t a cheese gene, but if someday one is discovered, I have it. In spades. I was raised on musicals, bizarre castoffs from my family’s record collection (such as Mae West’s Way Out West), Valley of the Dolls and Douglas Sirk. In most circles declaring Xanadu, “Solid Gold”, and K-Tel collections major influences on your taste as an adult is cause for immediate dismissal from the rock snob cult. I can have my Sonic Youth and eat my Cheez Whiz too.

Cheese that cuts the mustard in my list of most memorable musical moments:

First and foremost – K-Tel and other “As Seen on TV” compilations (Ronco, Sessions, Freedom Rock and the like)

Many of these were the first records I ever bought with my allowance or requested for good report card/birthday/Christmas gifts. They were a fast, fun way to build up my selection of “must-have” Top 40 singles of the late 70s-mid 80s. The collections were so eclectic and seemingly random that they have informed my own DJ’ing style to this day. They might be part of why I started DJ’ing in the first place. I spun them at summer camp, at recess and used them to make my first mix tapes. Hits by Kiss, Blondie, Rick James, Andy Gibb, Bob Dylan, Kenny Rogers, some one-hit wonder, and the theme from “Roots” might populate Side A. The covers of these albums were ridiculous and splashy – affecting the young graphic designer in me. They almost always depicted some combination of explosions, robots, rainbows, or a Hot Tracks train shattering through glass. The titles were super catchy – to maximize the lure of their enticing TV spots - Disco Fire, Pure Power, Dimensions, or Radio Active. When I started avidly thrift shopping as a teen, these collections were always in a dusty crate behind Whipped Cream and Other Delights, and they reawakened my love of cheese (aka fun) after a brief lapse into a sullen, goth phase. I still collect K-Tel today, and these records are pretty manageable items to collect. They’re always cheap. $3 is paying too much. Few other people want them. The only snags are the condition (K-Tel collections were made very cheaply to cram more music on each side), and the space vinyl takes up. I now own 50+, including special releases such as disco instructionals (by Deney Terrio!) and Christmas-themed (these were sometimes disco-oriented as well).

Commercials:

The TV show “Solid Gold”
My first career ambition was to be a “Solid Gold” dancer. I had a favorite – the lead, Darcel Wynne. She whipped her incredibly long mane around in a dangerous fashion, dangerous to her neck as well as the other dancers. She even appeared in a film that was an obsession when I was very young – Xanadu with Olivia Newton John. The team wore the height of aerobic meets stripper chic with a little Max Max Beyond Thunderdome on occasion for extra “edginess” – not that I understood the lascivious side of their presentation. All my favorite groups appeared on the show – Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, The Go-Go’s, Debbie Harry, Billy Idol, Rick Springfield, and even Ozzy! The hosts were milquetoast but sometimes I was treated to a freak show when Waylon Flowers and dummy “Madame” did the countdown. But mostly I loved the dancers. Because I didn’t grow up in the UK, I missed out on the similar but sort of sluttier, punkier, and (to use a dated term) proto-electroclash “Hot Gossip” with future Phantom of the Opera star Sarah Brightman and Billy Idol’s choreographer/girlfriend Perri Lister. No doubt I would have worshipped that show too. I took dance classes but “Solid Gold” stardom was not to be. As I aged into junior high awkwardness, my dance obsession got pushed aside due to a gawky fear of all things athletic. I was a nerd. But “Solid Gold” made its influence known when I got into karaoke and performing with drag queens.

DJ K-Tell & the Dumpsta Players
I’m about to come out of the closet here. I’m not gay, but I might be classified as a gay-straight girl or a “Fagg Girl” (”Fag Hag” is declasse). Today, I’m a closet drag king/queen/”Solid Gold”-esque dancer in my spare time. I perform with a troupe of amateur actors in a semi-monthly sketch satire/drag show/early MTV-inspired lipsynch revue with freaks of all stripes, including a DJ who named himself after the beloved compilations of my youth. The troupe has been around for ten years. I’ve been in the group for five. Somehow all the crap culture of my youth has finally found an outlet and, in addition to DJ’ing and hosting bar quizzo, this expertise has been invaluable as an amateur performer at the Philly institution Bob & Barbara’s. I’ve dressed up as Charles Manson, Tiny Tim, Daryl Hall, an obese Ron Jeremy-esque cop, Alice Cooper, countless interpretive dancers, hip-hop queens and guitar kings. My air guitar skills are peerless. As I’m writing this, I’m mentally preparing for tonight. I will be shaking it to Lil’ Mama’s “Lip Gloss” dressed as a deranged backup dancer behind a friend dressed as a recurring character, street avenger, Chardonna Jenkins. This is a hobby that’s made a lot of people go, “huh?” So be it. You either get it or you don’t. But many of my personal most memorable musical moments were created in Bob & Barbara’s making drunks laugh while giving a song from my childhood new life. I’d be tragically remiss in my obligation to this 885 project if I didn’t at least give a nod to my sequined partners in crime from Philly’s Gayborhood.