The duration of this track is and was released on June 19, As of now, this track is currently not as popular as other songs out there. Unnaturally Happy doesn't provide as much energy as other songs but, this track can still be danceable to some people.
Unnaturally Happy has a BPM of Since this track has a tempo of , the tempo markings of this song would be Vivace lively and fast. Overall, we believe that this song has a fast tempo. In other words, for DJs who are harmonically matchings songs, the Camelot key for this track is 2B. So, the perfect camelot match for 2B would be either 2B or 3A.
While, 3B can give you a low energy boost. For moderate energy boost, you would use 11B and a high energy boost can either be 4B or 9B. He and his two bandmates-bassist Tommy Biondo and drummer Russ DeLuca-then launched into an uptempo rendition of "She's a Pig," a song Starlite penned as an homage to one of the band's. In subsequent songs and monologues, the bearded rocker cast his sardonic eye on blacks, foreigners and-perhaps his favorite target-gays.
He disparaged the black people who lived near his neighborhood, he ridiculed the sexual habits of gay men, he described the most intimate acts in excruciating detail. Far from offended, the audience seemed to grow more enthusiastic the more outrageous Starlite became. Diehard fans screamed at the top of their lungs for Starlite to take a request. They seemed equally devoted to the music and the message.
But he's stuck on what he believes in. He's a white man with the blues in a black man's world. Said Curt Collins, a year-old Beverly resident who works in fleet service at O'Hare: "You need a good sense of humor if you're going to watch Starlite.
Some people can't take the attitude, but for a local crowd, it's great. He's got that raw rock 'n' roll sound. Yet for others, Starlite's stabs at humor struck too close to home. It's using women to sell music.
It objectifies women. Even so, before the evening was out, Starlite had coaxed four or five young women to join him onstage to dance and sing a chorus of "Hey, Bo Diddley"-which, in a nice bit of irony, was written and popularized by the black rock legend of that name. As it happens, the man who calls himself the X-Rated Rocker leads a relatively tame life offstage.
Starlite, born Steve Pacelli, lives in a tidy brick bungalow on a well-manicured street in Evergreen Park. He has never married, though he shares living quarters with a girlfriend who is "one year short of half my age," he said with a laugh. Starlite is well into his 40s, declining to be more specific. Answering the door toting his Lhasa Apso, Vito, he looks a bit like a mountain man. For someone so rambunctious and outspoken in his act, Starlite in person is disarmingly low-key and mild-mannered, polite to a fault.
He answers questions softly and thoughtfully, then falls silent as he waits for another query. There is, it seems, still a little of the Catholic schoolboy in him.
Starlite is the older of two children whose late father, Chris, was a milkman in Chicago and whose mother, Dolores of Evergreen Park, still works as a bookkeeper at retail stores in the area. His mother declined to comment on her son's act. The family moved to Evergreen Park from Chicago when the future rocker was 8.
At about that time, he started playing guitar. Starlite formed his first band when he was in the 4th grade and subsequently was in a number of other groups. During the height of Beatlemania, his group was doing songs by traditional rockers like Eddie Cochran and the Ventures. He still likes that music and counts records from the era as among the favorites in his LP collection he said he is "too retro" to buy a compact-disc player.
Starlite attended Catholic grade schools, graduated from Evergreen Park High School and received a degree in commercial art from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. But he never became a professional artist. Instead, he played in bands and worked as a clinician for Ampeg, a maker of electric amplifiers.
Yet what he really wanted was to lead a band and get a record contract of his own. After his band One Pound Round broke up in the late '70s, Starlite formed a new group, taking his stage name from a Chicago Ridge drive-in theater that has since closed. Now it sounds kind of hokey and show-biz, but I like that. I get or year-old people thinking it's going to be a '50s act.
It's a good shocker. Shock is, of course, Stevie Starlite's stock-in-trade. During his act he gleefully uses the grossest racial and sexual epithets.
At other times he plays with his naughty reputation, using the word "derriere" and then asking the audience, with mock primness, "I can say that, can't I? Though he claims to attack all groups equally, listening to his act and talking to his audience makes it clear that women, blacks and gays seem to bear the brunt of it.
He sees it as a way to get his audiences "involved. Certainly, the audience isn't going to respond to me or the way I play. I'm not that good. I'm too fat, too old, I'm losing my hair. The race thing is really secondary to getting them involved. But I do also hope to make everyone angry. I like the crowd response that way. It's the old Lenny Bruce syndrome. You get someone riled up, it means they're listening. I think in the context of the songs, I hope they're funny enough that people will understand it's not serious.
Certainly some of Starlite's fans seem angry, though perhaps not at him but rather at some of his targets. Doesn't he worry that his act will incite violence toward women and minorities? He shook his head and smiled. There are no fights at my shows. Maybe that's so, but some would argue that this kind of entertainment may encourage intolerance on the part of audience members. Fred McDonald, a professor of history at Northeastern Illinois University and expert on American popular culture, hasn't seen Starlite's act, but informed of its content, connected it to a style of in-your-face, politically incorrect entertainment popularized by radio personality Howard Stern and comedian Clay.
Everyone different is turned into an object of derision. It's the hallmark of ignorance. MacDonald said such humor is potentially dangerous because it "legitimizes and condones as acceptable behavior which is loutish and racist.
Though a lot of Starlite's listeners compare him to Andrew Dice Clay, Starlite says he doesn't like the entertainer. It's really shock value more than funny. Batts in Blue Island where the band has played about 10 or 15 times over seven or eight years agreed to comment on Stevie Starlite: "Well, he's unique. He's a very talented musician, but he's more a showman than a musician. The audience thinks it's funny.
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