Tom Hanks‘ wonderful and woefully overlooked film That Thing You Do is one of my all-time favorites. Bought the VHS. Bought the DVD. Then bought the director’s-cut DVD. (Don’t talk to me about Blu-Ray.)

One of the great charms of the film is the soundtrack, which manages to evoke the bygone Top-40 era and be legitimately catchy at the same time. Especially the title tune, written by the great Adam Schlesinger of the also woefully overlooked Fountains of Wayne. Not surprisingly, the tune was nominated for an Oscar. Very surprisingly, it did not win. Tragically, it lost to Madonna.

Though the song sounds like it would have been a big radio hit in the early ’60s, it was not a hit, then or now. There was a bit of airplay, but mostly by winking DJs being cute. Merseybeat-inspired melodies were not in favor with radio programmers in the late-’90s.

So, what was the tune doing in the Muzak rotation at the Giant Food off Flower Ave. in Silver Spring last week? It certainly made my shopping experience brighter, but what’s next — Lord of the Rings overture at the salad bar?

Listen closely to Mike Viola and the rest of the studio Wonders rocking that thing they did from the ceiling speakers near the meat section:

Went to see the British Walkers reunion at Winston Billiards Cafe in Rockville on Saturday. For those who missed the British Walkers phenomenon the first time around in 1965 — and I missed them, too — they were a D.C.-area band that wore Redcoat-style outfits, spoke with British accents, and played Beatle songs, Beatle-type songs, and generally did a bang-up job of cashing in on the whole Beatle thing. Though I never witnessed the magic first-hand, I’d heard the band name and that of its charismatic leader Bobbie Howard whispered reverently often enough over the years. After all, Roy Buchanan was the band’s first guitarist.

So I don’t know what I was expecting — perhaps the Redcoat suits? At the least, I was hoping for some Beatle-y teen-club nostalgia.

What I got was the worst double-bill since Hendrix opened for the Monkees.

For some reason, Joe Lee, mastermind of the event, booked an opening act, the Mustangs, an 11-piece soul band, complete with horn section and four lead singers. Some of the group were part of Wilson Pickett’s last band. And, damn. They totally rocked the joint. Opening with a Sly & the Family Stone medley, the group perfectly captured the Staple Singers, Etta James, and James Brown, and gave the terms “bar band” and “cover band” a bright sheen of respect.

The crowd — not surprisingly, mostly aging white folks — screamed for an encore, which the Mustangs were happy to play.

The only way the Walkers could have followed that was if they were the actual Beatles. And even then, I’m not sure.

It did not help that after the Mustangs cleared the stage there followed an interminable amount of tuning up and microphone feedback. Hello, sound engineer: you just had 11 musicians onstage, now you’ve got five. Remove six mics and don’t screw with anything else. Hello, band: Tune up offstage. They make portable tuners for just this purpose. Buy some.

Howard is now 67 and he still has the mod hair and looks sharp in a Carnaby Street suit. But, unlike the stylishly-attired Mustangs, the other Walkers opted for a mishmash of jeans, ball-caps, and whatever Elvis-meets-David Byrne outfit Billy Hancock was wearing.

And what was Hancock doing onstage anyway? He was never a member of the band. Though everyone else onstage had, at one time, been a member of the British Walkers, this particular lineup never existed. Guitarist Geoff Richardson never played with Bobbie, according to Hancock’s liner notes to the reissue CD. (OK, that might explain why he was there.)

The band started with a cover of Sam Cooke’s “Shake,” also one of its local-but-not-quite-national hits. And right away it seemed that the British Invasion legend was more myth than reality. As Joe Lee told the Post’s John Kelly, “The band was as much a rhythm-and-blues group as a rock group….They looked like a bunch of guys from England, but they listened to all the same soul stations as I did in the ’60s.”

Howard said after the third song (”Knock on Wood”) that his voice couldn’t handle an entire night of singing anymore and introduced Hancock, who launched into one of his usual rockabilly songs. And I felt whatever good will I’d come with evaporate. I can see the Billy Hancock show any time. Plus, I just felt embarrassed for the band.

I left while Kelly, the nicest man alive, frugged valiantly on the dance floor, doing his part, at least, to keep that ’60s magic alive.

You be the judge: Here’s the British Walkers, followed by the Mustangs.

Marion Barry arrived at the AFI Silver Theater for the world premier of The Nine Lives of Marion Barry, which closes the festival. Typically, emotions were stirred. After some limo-exiting negotiations, Barry emerged looking fit and trim and proceeded to walk away from the theater and down the block, past the long line of folks waiting in the stand-by line for the sold-out show. A festival source told me that Hizzoner had “30 people” in the line.

Good foresight. As soon as Barry’s foot hit Colesville Road, several people (at least one wearing the promotional Silverdocs tote bag) began chanting “Shame! Shame!” and variations on that theme. They were countered by a few cheers and applause and one woman who bird-dogged the Shamers with her “Marion! Marion!” song.

Barry seemed oblivious to the contretemps, basking, once more, in the attention as he headed around the corner toward…Panera Bread?

Shot, again, with my trusty Canon Powershot A5990. I am officially entering this video in next year’s Silverdocs.

I’d been meaning to go to Laurel to see if its Little Tavern Shop was still standing and snap a pic if it was. The Laurel location was the last operating restaurant in the once-proud chain, and one that I had never been to. (Shame on me, I know.) I’ve posted my previous LT articles here and here, and planned to add fresh images.

So imagine my surprise to find that not only is the building still standing, but you can get a burger. All praise Harry Duncan!

So many of the old locations have become takeout spots, been repainted, expanded, and otherwise mashed into the landscape. The Maryland Historical Trust put this shop on its registry (”an excellent example of mid-twentieth century roadside commercial architecture”), an honor not accorded similar outlets in D.C. While it was initially alarming to see the big “DONUTS” marquee, kudos to the signmaker for reworking the original Little Tavern typography into the new Laurel Tavern.

Inside, the place seems even more crowded than the old shops were. The stools and counter have been replaced by a glass case filled with donuts. And the grill has been replaced with donut-making machines, looking as vintage as the building and coated with sugar. I should have asked if the new owner acquired the equipment from the old Krispee Kreme on Rt. 1 in Alexandria. That would be fitting.

A small hand-written piece of paper taped to the side window proclaims “We have Burgers!!” I dared not dream it was true, and so first ordered a glazed, which looked fresh and was. If a Little Tavern has to be replaced, fresh donuts is not a bad option.

When I asked if they actually made the old-style hamburgers, owner Jin Kwon said, “Small ones. Yes. I just make these,” and opened a heating tray. She pulled out a three-pack, a trio of tiny burgers stuck together. Apparently, there’s a deal if you buy ‘em that way. Not quite the bygone bagful, but enough for breakfast today.

So…how do these 21st century models stack up to the Deathballs of yore? Well, they’re small (good), damp from the warming drawer (good), covered in greasy chopped onions (good). Asked if I wanted ketchup and mustard (of course!), Kwon applied same from separate yellow and red bottles. The single mutsup/catard concoction was a model of efficiency in the old days, but once it all mixed together the effect was the same.

The first bite was truly nostalgic nirvana. But — the beef is too spicy. Pepper, I think. Which is to say, there is spice where the old meat was just gray. Not unpleasant, but not what I was expecting.

Still, they warmed me up all the way back to Silver Spring. And, in that patented Little Tavern way, I can taste ‘em still.

Ironically, the Laurel shop is across the street from the Laurel Tastee Diner, which is the only Tastee location I haven’t been to. Guess I gotta start spending more time in Laurel…

Here’s a Gazette article about the Laurel LT’s return from about a year ago. And here’s an account from a diner blog.

After downloading old photos from the Library of Congress Web site, it became apparent that the men who led this nation in the past centuries were a particularly unattractive bunch. And that’s not even including Lincoln! So I put this together. Maybe we can all learn something. I know I have.

Mr. Julius Marx turns a spry 118 on Thursday, Oct. 2. Perhaps less spry since his passing in 1977. I tried to get tickets to his 1972 Carnegie Hall concert, to no avail. (I’d asked my mom to ask my aunt, who lived in Nutley, N.J., if she could buy the tickets. We got word that the show was sold out. It was, but I’m not entirely sure how hard my aunt tried. And, looking back from about the same age as she was then, I’m not sure I blame her…)

Mr. Marx was awarded one of those “special” Oscars in 1974. The same one they’ll probably give to Bill Murray before he croaks. Bah.

I already miss the Grog and Tankard, even though I haven’t been there for a long time. Here’s the City Paper cover story I did, still the definitive piece on the place. Well, I haven’t seen much else written. (That quote in today’s Post from Vertical Horizon singer and guitarist Matt Scannell was pulled from my story.)

Above is a photo I took last week of one the last remaining Little Tavern buildings. Like most of the rest of the chain, it had been turned into something else, in this case a Chinese carryout, Golden House. (I have placed orders there on more than one occasion. Not bad.) My plan was to snap pictures of what few remaining LTs existed so that I could post them on the article I wrote about the fabled D.C. diners.

Below is a picture I took today. I have no explanation, other than the new X-Files movie just opened.

UPDATE: Discovered the explanation, courtesy of the Silver Spring Penquin blog. The site will become the new Silver Spring library. Now the question is: what’s a Silver Spring Penquin?