Watching my kid come into his own musically is quite a treat. He has had some pretty solid influences, between his father and I. My tastes can be seen all over this blog and run a gamet that includes, but is not limited to: British folk, old rock, punk, new wave, ska, rockabilly, klezmer, Bollywood, show tunes, old jazz, parodies…well, the list is endless. One minute we’re playing Woody Guthrie and the next minute it’s the Sex Pistols. The Daddy-o prefers things Renaissance themed (Tull, Steeleye Span, Bawdy Beggar Girls), prog rockish or jazz. Set him up with a J. Geils CD and he’s stellar. We’ve never kept the kidlet from anything musically-even things I would really rather NOT listen to.
So, here is where my being a supportive Mama-creature overides my desire to hurl whenever I see that the Disney Channel is on- Noah wants me to make him a CD. I know, shades of mixed tapes and High Fidelity. The greatest musicical guru influence of my life turned me on to High Fidelity and so much more (for another blog someday,I promise) and honed my already developed skill in the art of the CD compliation.
“OK, Beaner. What songs do you want?”
“You mean I can have any song in the world that I like?”
“Well, if I have access to them, then, yes, you can have them. Remember though, its one CD and I’m guessing you might get 15-20 songs on it, max.”
I encouraged him to research the musical offerings around our house. We have scads of CDs. We have crates full of records, those disky things that need a turntable and a needle. As luck would have it, we also have not one, but two turntables in the house. We do have a small assortment of cassette tapes left, although I did finally send most of them to Goodwill, realizing that I had the music on CD or the Internet. I’m pretty sure that there are even 1 or 2 8-tracks here, but if so, we have no way to play them any longer.
Then there’s Youtube. Sigh. Youtube.
Youtube is a great resource, but it takes all the anticipation out of music. When I was a kid, I’d listen to the radio all day long, classic Atlanta stations like WQXI (Quicksie in Dixie), Z-93 (our local mainstream pop station), 96-Rock (hard rock) or WRAS 88.5 (the local college alternative punk station.) You waited all day for a song that you liked or wanted to come in over the air and recorded it off the airwaves, using your newest Radio Shack cassette recorder. When you played back your song later, you also had airwave bumps, news teases and advertisements for all kinds of things, but at least you had “your song.”
If I wanted musical permanence, I saved up my allowance and took myself to one of the many record emporiums around Atlanta: Peaches, Turtles, Record Bar, Wax and Facts, Fantasyland, Oz, Coconuts or Eat More Records. The record stores themselves were part of the allure, full of seasoned veterans of the music underground, who had stories, man and real life interactions with the musicians I was grooving on at the time. The record store employees, especially with the smaller shops, were one step away from actual rock and roll royalty and I tried to make friends with as many as possible, so they’d include me into their network. I’d find out when new albums were released, sometimes was given promotional products and get clued in to upcoming concerts. Music was a major part of my life, so I wanted to hang with the major players.
Today, the way kids get their music is as manufactured as the pre-pubescent pop pollutants they listen to. It makes me sad, but it’s the way of the world. Most of the record stores of my youth are long gone and the few that remain are considered “vintage”. Now my offspring hears his music on television shows mainly unless it’s my old school stuff. I wish he would have the experience of routing through a dusty, smoke filled, patchouli scented record store for musical treasure and talking to people with names like Spike and Rainbow and Rodney the British guy.
So, here are some of Noah’s CD picks. Remember, he’s 11, so please be kind.
Noah’s Mammoth CD Mixed Compilation-2011
Led Zeppelin- Stairway to Heaven
Nick Lowe- Cruel to Be Kind
Who- Substitute
Cheap Trick- I Want You To Want Me
AC/DC- Highway to Hell
Styx- Come Sail Away
Sandi Thom- I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker
Britney Spears- Dance til the World Ends
Colbie Caillat- Brighter than the Sun
Katy Perry- Firework
Selena Gomez- Who Says
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Crying....Over You
Sometimes you need a good cry. Music is a great catalyst for a good old fashioned eye wash. There are certain songs that, somewhere around the 4th or 5th note, can make me weep like a child. There are many reasons for this; sometimes it’s the memory associated with the song choice. Other songs make me weep because of the sheer beauty of the lyrics or the melody or a combination of both. It surprises me that I will break into a spontaneous cacophony of gut wrenching sobs over songs that I haven’t heard in years or that I have heard so often I should be “over it” by now. So, without further adieu…here’s the list of Amy’s all time great spasmodic sob singles. (in no particular order)
“Imagine” by John Winston Ono Lennon. Do I need to explain my love of all things Lennon? John-o was, is and always shall be my man. Even the Scott Bakula version from an episode of Quantum Leap, had me crying the tears of the gut wrenched. My second most cried out Lennon song? That would be “Beautiful Boy” because I am the mother of a, er…beautiful boy.
The Beatles being my all time favorite group, I must mention the two Fab Four songs most likely to make me need a Kleenex. The absolutely haunting “Julia”, which John penned after the loss of his mum is all the more poignant by the loss of my own beloved mother. Also, it is impossible for me to get through the song “In My Life” without losing it.
If I was to travel in the way back machine, along with Sherman, I think the earliest recorded song on the melancholy mucus hit parade would be “The Way You Look Tonight” from the Fred Astaire film, “Swing Time”. I know it’s been played at more weddings than is fathomable, but it still gets me, right in the heartstrings each and every time. Another golden moldy that rips me is “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”, which I think is interesting, since Christmas isn’t my holiday. Judy Garland is so mournful that I want to burst.
When I was little, I remember hearing the song “Both Sides Now” right after my Nana died. For some reason, I got the “clouds illusions” confused with my grandmother’s passing and the two were indelibly linked forever. “Wind Beneath My Wings” is another sure fire devastator, for the power of the lyrics and for my own sentimental attachment to the song.
Three songs that I was introduced to at roughly the same time also melt me whenever I hear them. Richard Thompson’s “Dimming of the Day” is quite possibly my favorite song of all times now and that is saying a lot. It’s haunting and harrowing and just lovely. My beloved Nick Drake has so many songs that act like emotional wrecking balls, but “Time Has Told Me” is the song of this that most does the trick. John Martyn’s “Couldn’t Love You More” makes me cry to a lesser extent. Not long ago, I stumbled upon Chris Bell’s “Look Up”(there is no youtube for this at present. Someone removed it) and Elliot Smith’s “Waltz #2” and the depth of both of these masterpieces is wail inducing. Likewise, for some reason I can’t put my finger on, is the largely lamented “Beautiful” by James Blunt. I think it’s that pseudo “emo” angst producing thought of finding the perfect one and not being able to reach them.
Sometimes, you just need to let the music overtake you..and let is out!
“Imagine” by John Winston Ono Lennon. Do I need to explain my love of all things Lennon? John-o was, is and always shall be my man. Even the Scott Bakula version from an episode of Quantum Leap, had me crying the tears of the gut wrenched. My second most cried out Lennon song? That would be “Beautiful Boy” because I am the mother of a, er…beautiful boy.
The Beatles being my all time favorite group, I must mention the two Fab Four songs most likely to make me need a Kleenex. The absolutely haunting “Julia”, which John penned after the loss of his mum is all the more poignant by the loss of my own beloved mother. Also, it is impossible for me to get through the song “In My Life” without losing it.
If I was to travel in the way back machine, along with Sherman, I think the earliest recorded song on the melancholy mucus hit parade would be “The Way You Look Tonight” from the Fred Astaire film, “Swing Time”. I know it’s been played at more weddings than is fathomable, but it still gets me, right in the heartstrings each and every time. Another golden moldy that rips me is “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”, which I think is interesting, since Christmas isn’t my holiday. Judy Garland is so mournful that I want to burst.
When I was little, I remember hearing the song “Both Sides Now” right after my Nana died. For some reason, I got the “clouds illusions” confused with my grandmother’s passing and the two were indelibly linked forever. “Wind Beneath My Wings” is another sure fire devastator, for the power of the lyrics and for my own sentimental attachment to the song.
Three songs that I was introduced to at roughly the same time also melt me whenever I hear them. Richard Thompson’s “Dimming of the Day” is quite possibly my favorite song of all times now and that is saying a lot. It’s haunting and harrowing and just lovely. My beloved Nick Drake has so many songs that act like emotional wrecking balls, but “Time Has Told Me” is the song of this that most does the trick. John Martyn’s “Couldn’t Love You More” makes me cry to a lesser extent. Not long ago, I stumbled upon Chris Bell’s “Look Up”(there is no youtube for this at present. Someone removed it) and Elliot Smith’s “Waltz #2” and the depth of both of these masterpieces is wail inducing. Likewise, for some reason I can’t put my finger on, is the largely lamented “Beautiful” by James Blunt. I think it’s that pseudo “emo” angst producing thought of finding the perfect one and not being able to reach them.
Sometimes, you just need to let the music overtake you..and let is out!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Play Me
I think I have said before that I am firm believer that a musical soundtrack should follow each one of us everywhere we go. The requisite scary music should come on before something awful happens and we should be serenaded with songs of love for those quiet moments. Someone near and dear to me once wrote down what he considered the “Soundtrack of his life” and while that is an undertaking I aspire to one fine day, for right now, I have to settle for snippets of the songs that I used as memory place cards at the banquet table of life. If you find some of my choices schalmtzy, feel free to go suck the proverbial egg. These are the songs of MY life, baby, and that’s just the way it is.
First slow dance- Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird”. 8th grade Christmas Dance. A real genuine boy asked ME to slow dance, which I thought meant he wanted me to eventually bear his children. The year was 1978 and I was wearing an iced blue satin disco dress and a white crocheted granny shawl. The unfortunate lad, Harry Thompson, esq., I am sure did not know that he fueled my adolescent fantasies, inspired by hearing Rod Stewart singing “Tonight’s the Night”. I think to poor Harry, I was just this entertaining girl from class and this was just a dance. I had my first boy/girl birthday party a couple of weeks later, and somehow arranged it with my girlfriends that Harry be the one who played “Seven Minutes in Heaven” with me. I got my first peck kiss outta that one. Alas, our love was not to be…
First OMG make out session- The Knack’s “My Sharona”. I mean, honestly, who wouldn’t want to jump on someone when that song is on? Could Doug Feiger, of blessed memory, have made an anthem more about teen aged humpery? I was 14, but I had told my “date” of the evening that I was 16. Anyone who has known me long enough knows who this boy was, but for fear that he might sue me some day, I prefer to refer to him as “Jeep, the Creep”. He prided himself on his “Russian hands and Roman fingers”. Still, that I can remember that particular evening 31 years later, must account for something.
The “first” time- Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band’s “You’ll Accompany Me”. To be in love like I was the first time made all the difference in the world. I was not a particularly big fan of Mr. Seger, nor am I now. I bought the album for my first love for his birthday that year and that was what we somehow picked to consummate our teen aged obsession. Still, at least the song doesn’t suck, and the memories of that fragile time in my life don’t suck either.
The first time I actually felt “sexy” and knew someone else thought I was too- The Hollies- “Long, Cool Woman in a Black Dress”. I was modeling some such new outfit for an admiring beau, when he put this on the turntable. You know, you strut a bit more with a soundtrack behind you! By the end of the song, I was posing like some cheesed up model out of “Blow Up”, a film I was forced to watch about a jillion times.
One of “those” nights- Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks” (the entire album.) There was a night, a long time ago that I was with someone and this was the background music for the evening. In my mind’s eye, the tracks were seamless and I remember hours passing without break and no words exchanged. I may have conjured up the memories of this night in my head and my memories may be all shadows and light and never more. The other party involved that evening is gone now but obviously this album has stuck with me for a long time. “Slim Slow Slider” is my favorite epic on the album and its title and lyrics fit that night like a glass slipper. To be like that again is something I only dream of now.
A sure fire song to get me going- Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On”, possibly the sexiest song in the entire world. I feel like slippery quivering jellied satin when I hear that song. Put that one back to back with “Sexual Healing” and I might even be tempted to date a chicken. M-mm-mm good…….
I do have to admit to memories associated with other songs as well- Mike and the Mechanics “All I Need is a Miracle”, Jim Croce’s “Long Time Ago”, Styx’s “Lady”, Cheap Trick’s “I Want You To Want Me”, The Bangles “Eternal Flame”. Fleeting moments with fleeting pop songs and I neither dis the memories or the music. It was what it was at the time.
First slow dance- Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird”. 8th grade Christmas Dance. A real genuine boy asked ME to slow dance, which I thought meant he wanted me to eventually bear his children. The year was 1978 and I was wearing an iced blue satin disco dress and a white crocheted granny shawl. The unfortunate lad, Harry Thompson, esq., I am sure did not know that he fueled my adolescent fantasies, inspired by hearing Rod Stewart singing “Tonight’s the Night”. I think to poor Harry, I was just this entertaining girl from class and this was just a dance. I had my first boy/girl birthday party a couple of weeks later, and somehow arranged it with my girlfriends that Harry be the one who played “Seven Minutes in Heaven” with me. I got my first peck kiss outta that one. Alas, our love was not to be…
First OMG make out session- The Knack’s “My Sharona”. I mean, honestly, who wouldn’t want to jump on someone when that song is on? Could Doug Feiger, of blessed memory, have made an anthem more about teen aged humpery? I was 14, but I had told my “date” of the evening that I was 16. Anyone who has known me long enough knows who this boy was, but for fear that he might sue me some day, I prefer to refer to him as “Jeep, the Creep”. He prided himself on his “Russian hands and Roman fingers”. Still, that I can remember that particular evening 31 years later, must account for something.
The “first” time- Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band’s “You’ll Accompany Me”. To be in love like I was the first time made all the difference in the world. I was not a particularly big fan of Mr. Seger, nor am I now. I bought the album for my first love for his birthday that year and that was what we somehow picked to consummate our teen aged obsession. Still, at least the song doesn’t suck, and the memories of that fragile time in my life don’t suck either.
The first time I actually felt “sexy” and knew someone else thought I was too- The Hollies- “Long, Cool Woman in a Black Dress”. I was modeling some such new outfit for an admiring beau, when he put this on the turntable. You know, you strut a bit more with a soundtrack behind you! By the end of the song, I was posing like some cheesed up model out of “Blow Up”, a film I was forced to watch about a jillion times.
One of “those” nights- Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks” (the entire album.) There was a night, a long time ago that I was with someone and this was the background music for the evening. In my mind’s eye, the tracks were seamless and I remember hours passing without break and no words exchanged. I may have conjured up the memories of this night in my head and my memories may be all shadows and light and never more. The other party involved that evening is gone now but obviously this album has stuck with me for a long time. “Slim Slow Slider” is my favorite epic on the album and its title and lyrics fit that night like a glass slipper. To be like that again is something I only dream of now.
A sure fire song to get me going- Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On”, possibly the sexiest song in the entire world. I feel like slippery quivering jellied satin when I hear that song. Put that one back to back with “Sexual Healing” and I might even be tempted to date a chicken. M-mm-mm good…….
I do have to admit to memories associated with other songs as well- Mike and the Mechanics “All I Need is a Miracle”, Jim Croce’s “Long Time Ago”, Styx’s “Lady”, Cheap Trick’s “I Want You To Want Me”, The Bangles “Eternal Flame”. Fleeting moments with fleeting pop songs and I neither dis the memories or the music. It was what it was at the time.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Revolution!
So much for my life this past week! My beloved son, the light of my life and all that rot, had to do a biography project for school. Now, being the son of a dyed in the wool music freak, Noah read a biography on the Beatles. Actually, the book he chose, Who Were the Beatles? By Geoff Edgers, was not a bad read. While a tad been sanitized for your protection, since it’s geared for the post pablum/pre Pernod set, obviously facts were checked and that makes me happy. This project did lead to a great deal of interesting revelations however, dealing with media, knowledge and the change in how we do homework in the digital age.
Noah would read and then come to me with a gazillion questions. I do sometimes forget that he was born in the “new millennium” and therefore doesn’t have a frame of reference to many of the music/ideas/ideologies mentioned in this book. Sure, he IS my son and has been exposed to some sort of Beatles rot in every room of the casa, but….. So, now is the time that I sing the praises of You Tube! After each night’s reading, Noah and I went on You Tube, watched and listened. The pre-Beatles as the Quarrymen? Watched that. The Beatles coming to America and visiting mumble mouthed Eddy Sullivan? Watched that. John Lennon being bigger than Jesus? That, too. Beatles as trippy hippies, “Paul is dead”, Let It Be concert? Yeah, yeah, yeah!
I even took a big breath and managed to get through footage of the memorials to my beloved Mr. Lennon, as well as post Beatles solo offerings and the Anthology videos (Free as a Bird/Real Love).
While I am sure that Noah benefitted from all of this Fab Four exposure (the proof in the pudding being whatever grade he gets) I know that I did. While some may dis You Tube, I am happy that in some way, music/film/telly/pop culture history is being archived somewhere for the next generation. No longer is there a case for “fade away and radiate” within the scope of popular accomplishment and I know that makes me glad!
Noah would read and then come to me with a gazillion questions. I do sometimes forget that he was born in the “new millennium” and therefore doesn’t have a frame of reference to many of the music/ideas/ideologies mentioned in this book. Sure, he IS my son and has been exposed to some sort of Beatles rot in every room of the casa, but….. So, now is the time that I sing the praises of You Tube! After each night’s reading, Noah and I went on You Tube, watched and listened. The pre-Beatles as the Quarrymen? Watched that. The Beatles coming to America and visiting mumble mouthed Eddy Sullivan? Watched that. John Lennon being bigger than Jesus? That, too. Beatles as trippy hippies, “Paul is dead”, Let It Be concert? Yeah, yeah, yeah!
I even took a big breath and managed to get through footage of the memorials to my beloved Mr. Lennon, as well as post Beatles solo offerings and the Anthology videos (Free as a Bird/Real Love).
While I am sure that Noah benefitted from all of this Fab Four exposure (the proof in the pudding being whatever grade he gets) I know that I did. While some may dis You Tube, I am happy that in some way, music/film/telly/pop culture history is being archived somewhere for the next generation. No longer is there a case for “fade away and radiate” within the scope of popular accomplishment and I know that makes me glad!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
They Say It's Your Birthday!
So, it’s official. Forty-five years ago this very day, I made my stage debut. Before offering me a hearty chorus of “huzzahs”, please consider other musical talents of note born on January 6. I had to look long and hard, cruising the Internet for at least 3-4 minutes to come up with the names of the aft mentioned rockinrollas….and I am sure you will be as gobsmacked as I was when I found out who shares my natal anniversary.
1967-Peter Loran, vocalist of the band Trixter.
1964-Mark O’Toole, bassist/drummer of the band Frankie Goes to Hollywood
1963-Paul Brindley, bassist of the band The Sundays
1959-Kathy Sledge, vocalist for the group Sister Sledge
After finding these first four names, I wasn’t all that impressed. I mean, it was better than telling people I shared my birthday with the Reverend Sun Yung Moon, founder of the “Moonies”, but still, where were the Rock and Roll genius’ I knew the “self proclaimed Goddess of the Groove” should share her zodiac sign with? MMMM, just wait…here come the heavy hitters…..
1953- Malcolm Young, guitarist for AC/DC.
Now, I will admit, I was a big fan back in the day. I like my music a little more, dare I say it, comfortably numb….which brings me to…
1946- Syd Barrett, Pink Floyd.
OMG! I share my birthday with a right freaking genius! OK, so he went mad and some of his later behavior rivaled Howard Hughes. I mean, don’t we all go a little mad sometimes….
1944- Van McCoy- if you are teetering on the edge of extinction as I am, you will remember, if not Van McCoy’s name, his biggest claim to fame, that all out and out classic disco party song…the Hustle. I am not too proud to admit, much to my friend’s chagrin that I put on my Candies F-me heels and my iced blue Satin disco dress and danced to this song at many a school dance. Ok, so I was 14…..and that excuses me!
1941-Sandy Denny, vocalist of Fairport Convention/Fotheringay. How did I not know that one of my idols shared a birthday with me? How I love Sandy’s soothing voice on the folk rock sounds. If you are familiar with Fairport Convention, which also boasted the talents of my beloved Richard Thompson and lovely Trevor Lucas, who was later part of Fotheringay, you will know that most of their music has a decidedly, imho, folk sound. Sandy’s second band, the very short lived one albumed Fotheringay, was a bit more folk/rock. To me, the album is so good that it hurts!
I can sleep now, knowing that as I near the end of the first day of my 45th year on Earth, I share this date with others who felt the pull of music, perhaps even more so than I do.
1967-Peter Loran, vocalist of the band Trixter.
1964-Mark O’Toole, bassist/drummer of the band Frankie Goes to Hollywood
1963-Paul Brindley, bassist of the band The Sundays
1959-Kathy Sledge, vocalist for the group Sister Sledge
After finding these first four names, I wasn’t all that impressed. I mean, it was better than telling people I shared my birthday with the Reverend Sun Yung Moon, founder of the “Moonies”, but still, where were the Rock and Roll genius’ I knew the “self proclaimed Goddess of the Groove” should share her zodiac sign with? MMMM, just wait…here come the heavy hitters…..
1953- Malcolm Young, guitarist for AC/DC.
Now, I will admit, I was a big fan back in the day. I like my music a little more, dare I say it, comfortably numb….which brings me to…
1946- Syd Barrett, Pink Floyd.
OMG! I share my birthday with a right freaking genius! OK, so he went mad and some of his later behavior rivaled Howard Hughes. I mean, don’t we all go a little mad sometimes….
1944- Van McCoy- if you are teetering on the edge of extinction as I am, you will remember, if not Van McCoy’s name, his biggest claim to fame, that all out and out classic disco party song…the Hustle. I am not too proud to admit, much to my friend’s chagrin that I put on my Candies F-me heels and my iced blue Satin disco dress and danced to this song at many a school dance. Ok, so I was 14…..and that excuses me!
1941-Sandy Denny, vocalist of Fairport Convention/Fotheringay. How did I not know that one of my idols shared a birthday with me? How I love Sandy’s soothing voice on the folk rock sounds. If you are familiar with Fairport Convention, which also boasted the talents of my beloved Richard Thompson and lovely Trevor Lucas, who was later part of Fotheringay, you will know that most of their music has a decidedly, imho, folk sound. Sandy’s second band, the very short lived one albumed Fotheringay, was a bit more folk/rock. To me, the album is so good that it hurts!
I can sleep now, knowing that as I near the end of the first day of my 45th year on Earth, I share this date with others who felt the pull of music, perhaps even more so than I do.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Morning
Saturday mornings in the 70’s were just ripe with music. Kiddie show programmers had finally gotten into their brain that flower power kids of that time wanted music. We cared not who sang the music- animated bands that also solved mysteries, boy band wanna-bes or even costumed creatures who defied description. We wanted music!
I mentioned in an earlier post all about the Monkees, a pseudo manufactured boy band, supposed to answer American girls’ yearnings for the Beatles. Fronted by the ubiquitous Brit, Davey Jones, the Monkees were also comprised of Peter Tork, Mickey Dolenz and Michael Nesmith. Mickey had done some TV work, mainly in a show called “Circus Boy” which ran from 1956-1959. (His screen credit at the time was as Mickey Braddock.) Davey was the darling of British musicals, (and still has a large following- http://luvdavy.tripod.com/), Michael Nesmith would go on to bigger and better things (like Television Parts) and Peter Tork would produce a weekly love feeling down to the tips of my little white Keds tennies. I can remember sitting in front of the TV, swooning over these boys’ hilarious exploits, but feeling a little guilty because, somehow, even then, I knew they weren’t the “real deal”. Rumors abounded that the Monkees music was actually played by, dare I say, studio musicians.
From there we travel to animated groups like the Archie’s and Josey and the Pussycats. No need to pretend there, because you knew, sort of, that the cartoon people didn’t REALLY play music. O.K., it was willful suspension of disbelief for me at the time, but come on, folks, I was only a mere tot! I didn’t even know about lip synching yet. Still, I bought the Archie products, albums, comic books, paper dolls and even those plastic cling on toys, where you could change characters costumes. Merchandising was what the music was all about on Saturday morning, and I wasn’t yet savvy enough to know that I ought to enjoy the music for the sake of the music. At least, the Archie’s’ studio musicians had some sort of faux talent. This leads me to….
Ah, the Bugaloos, Lidsville, H.R.Puffenstuff, Sigmund and the Sea Monster…the whole Sid and Marty Kroftt bag of puppets, costumes and parlor tricks. We got hooked, didn’t we, kiddies? I suspect that the Kroftt Brothers took more recreational pharmaceuticals in one evening’s script writing than I did in my entire life. So intoxicating were the colors, the sounds, the smells….ok, so none of their shows was in glorious smell-o-vision, but …you get the idea. Each 30 minute show seemed like some precursor to the music videos we were to get hooked on when MTV reared it’s proverbial head in the 80’s (I promise, I will get to that in another post!) I saw firsthand how much these Kroftterama shows meant to people when I attended DragonCon, the premiere Science Fiction/Media convention in the southeast, back in 2006. The lines to meet members of the casts of Sigmund and the Sea Monster were some of the largest lines in the place, and boy howdy, I was right there with them! (I have the pictures to prove it, btw. To be posted later.)
Of course, the next progression from faux rockers is to real poppers, namely, er….here goes…Captain Kool and the Kongs and the Hudson Brothers. This was supposed wacky comedy, interspersed with music in the form of “bands”. Something you might not know is that these were actual musicians….ok, maybe not ALL of them, but.. Bert Sommer, who, played at Woodstock, for pity’s sake, was in Captain Kool, as was Mickey McMeel, formerly of Three Dog Night! (Captain Kool et all were also Krofft Creations!)The Hudson Brothers were all musicians, but the only thing I know that any of them have done since is that Bill Hudson was first married to Goldie Hawn, and fathered Kate and Oliver Hudson and then he married Cindy Williams from Laverne and Shirley. See, it really is all in who you know!
What my long winded ramble has been trying to get at today is that we are musically influenced by so many factors. I admit to being a devotee of all things Saturday morning musical and when I watch the cartoon fare of today, I am nostalgic for the razzle dazzle schlock of my teeny bopper days. Still, I have moved above and beyond all of that mess, right? But….if you should happen to hear about a Bugaloos reunion in the future, you will let me know…right?
I mentioned in an earlier post all about the Monkees, a pseudo manufactured boy band, supposed to answer American girls’ yearnings for the Beatles. Fronted by the ubiquitous Brit, Davey Jones, the Monkees were also comprised of Peter Tork, Mickey Dolenz and Michael Nesmith. Mickey had done some TV work, mainly in a show called “Circus Boy” which ran from 1956-1959. (His screen credit at the time was as Mickey Braddock.) Davey was the darling of British musicals, (and still has a large following- http://luvdavy.tripod.com/), Michael Nesmith would go on to bigger and better things (like Television Parts) and Peter Tork would produce a weekly love feeling down to the tips of my little white Keds tennies. I can remember sitting in front of the TV, swooning over these boys’ hilarious exploits, but feeling a little guilty because, somehow, even then, I knew they weren’t the “real deal”. Rumors abounded that the Monkees music was actually played by, dare I say, studio musicians.
From there we travel to animated groups like the Archie’s and Josey and the Pussycats. No need to pretend there, because you knew, sort of, that the cartoon people didn’t REALLY play music. O.K., it was willful suspension of disbelief for me at the time, but come on, folks, I was only a mere tot! I didn’t even know about lip synching yet. Still, I bought the Archie products, albums, comic books, paper dolls and even those plastic cling on toys, where you could change characters costumes. Merchandising was what the music was all about on Saturday morning, and I wasn’t yet savvy enough to know that I ought to enjoy the music for the sake of the music. At least, the Archie’s’ studio musicians had some sort of faux talent. This leads me to….
Ah, the Bugaloos, Lidsville, H.R.Puffenstuff, Sigmund and the Sea Monster…the whole Sid and Marty Kroftt bag of puppets, costumes and parlor tricks. We got hooked, didn’t we, kiddies? I suspect that the Kroftt Brothers took more recreational pharmaceuticals in one evening’s script writing than I did in my entire life. So intoxicating were the colors, the sounds, the smells….ok, so none of their shows was in glorious smell-o-vision, but …you get the idea. Each 30 minute show seemed like some precursor to the music videos we were to get hooked on when MTV reared it’s proverbial head in the 80’s (I promise, I will get to that in another post!) I saw firsthand how much these Kroftterama shows meant to people when I attended DragonCon, the premiere Science Fiction/Media convention in the southeast, back in 2006. The lines to meet members of the casts of Sigmund and the Sea Monster were some of the largest lines in the place, and boy howdy, I was right there with them! (I have the pictures to prove it, btw. To be posted later.)
Of course, the next progression from faux rockers is to real poppers, namely, er….here goes…Captain Kool and the Kongs and the Hudson Brothers. This was supposed wacky comedy, interspersed with music in the form of “bands”. Something you might not know is that these were actual musicians….ok, maybe not ALL of them, but.. Bert Sommer, who, played at Woodstock, for pity’s sake, was in Captain Kool, as was Mickey McMeel, formerly of Three Dog Night! (Captain Kool et all were also Krofft Creations!)The Hudson Brothers were all musicians, but the only thing I know that any of them have done since is that Bill Hudson was first married to Goldie Hawn, and fathered Kate and Oliver Hudson and then he married Cindy Williams from Laverne and Shirley. See, it really is all in who you know!
What my long winded ramble has been trying to get at today is that we are musically influenced by so many factors. I admit to being a devotee of all things Saturday morning musical and when I watch the cartoon fare of today, I am nostalgic for the razzle dazzle schlock of my teeny bopper days. Still, I have moved above and beyond all of that mess, right? But….if you should happen to hear about a Bugaloos reunion in the future, you will let me know…right?
Monday, December 28, 2009
What's It All About, Amy?
Do you remember the first album you ever selected? Before you answer that, if you are under 30, and some of you are, an album, also called vinyl, is that big, black shiny plastic disk your parents might have lying around the house. It’s played on something called a turntable and uses a needle to make music out of the grooves on the album. Fab, huh? No, I don’t believe that people really don’t know what an album is, except, mayhaps, my students and they are only 6. Also, I say “selected” because many of us had benevolent parents/siblings/aunties that took us to the record store and let us pick our first genuine self-owned music. The first albums I ever own were not albums that I picked out. The neighbor girl gave me a copy of the “Archies”, with “Sugar, Sugar” and “Bang-Shang-A-Lang” on it. She also gave me copies of the “Brady Bunch” and the “Partridge Family”. They were well meaning gifts at the time, but alas, my poor neighbor did not know my musical secret….
Time for a true confession…I know…a bit early in the blog, but…..deep breath….I’ve never told anyone this before….
I WAS A PRESCHOOL HIPPIE! (Sigh, that’s a relief!) It all started on a fateful trip to Baltimore when I was, prolly, 4 ½. We went to visit some cousins, because that was the sole and total reason to visit Baltimore for me in those days. I was the only Southern born relative and somehow, that made me special enough to get away with things. We had gone to see Cousins Lucille and Sydney, who had a son, my cousin, Perry. Perry was probably 14 at the time, and I am not sure what he was bribed with, but he allowed me, for one grand evening, to “hang out” with him in his room. He was playing music…and I was enraptured. This was not the music that I heard on the radio in Mommy’s car, nor the music that was played at home. The sound was far more…dare I say it…raw. The woman singing sounded like she was in pain, hurt deeply, right down to the core of her soul. I moved closer to the speakers, inhaling deeply, hoping to take it all in. Who was this creature? What could I do to sound just like her? Here’s a clue..it’s 1969. Come on, come on….it was Janis. Pure, simple, raw…Janis. I wanted more.
The next selection on the turntable blew me away even more. “What makes THAT sound?” I asked Perry. “Electric guitar,” he said and collapsed back into his haze. My nursery school teacher played the guitar. Lots of them did back in the day, but her guitar did not sound like THAT. The sounds were scary and fabulous and terribly wicked and gentle all at the same time. I know now that I wasn’t just hearing someone play guitar, I was eavesdropping on a love making session. I was too young to get it then….and that was my introduction to Jimi Hendrix.
When we got home to Atlanta, all I wanted was to hear that music again. My parents were properly horrified when I mentioned the names of the artists I had heard in Perry’s room. I was relentless, however. It was a long torturous nag session until finally, in a fit of despair, my mother went to Woolworth’s, (where we bought our records in those days) and bought me….drum roll please….a Monkee’s album. Don’t get me wrong. I had a big, ol’ nasty jones in those days for Peter Tork. I didn’t miss the Monkees on Saturday morning. (A later post, I assure you) but the Monkees weren’t JIMI.
Where was I? I started out asking about your first album purchase, and I haven’t even told you mine. You’ve got to be thinking now that my first purchase was some radical departure from the bubblegum rock sweeping the good old USA, but alas, you’d be wrong. My father took me to the shop and vetoed several choices in my first official exposure to censorship. I ended up buying a double album retrospective of the Beatles called, “Rock and Roll Music” and a copy of Leo Sayer’s “Endless Flight”.
Now you know that the answer to all musical questions on this trip isn’t pretty, friends. Luckily, we’re just getting started on the journey!
Time for a true confession…I know…a bit early in the blog, but…..deep breath….I’ve never told anyone this before….
I WAS A PRESCHOOL HIPPIE! (Sigh, that’s a relief!) It all started on a fateful trip to Baltimore when I was, prolly, 4 ½. We went to visit some cousins, because that was the sole and total reason to visit Baltimore for me in those days. I was the only Southern born relative and somehow, that made me special enough to get away with things. We had gone to see Cousins Lucille and Sydney, who had a son, my cousin, Perry. Perry was probably 14 at the time, and I am not sure what he was bribed with, but he allowed me, for one grand evening, to “hang out” with him in his room. He was playing music…and I was enraptured. This was not the music that I heard on the radio in Mommy’s car, nor the music that was played at home. The sound was far more…dare I say it…raw. The woman singing sounded like she was in pain, hurt deeply, right down to the core of her soul. I moved closer to the speakers, inhaling deeply, hoping to take it all in. Who was this creature? What could I do to sound just like her? Here’s a clue..it’s 1969. Come on, come on….it was Janis. Pure, simple, raw…Janis. I wanted more.
The next selection on the turntable blew me away even more. “What makes THAT sound?” I asked Perry. “Electric guitar,” he said and collapsed back into his haze. My nursery school teacher played the guitar. Lots of them did back in the day, but her guitar did not sound like THAT. The sounds were scary and fabulous and terribly wicked and gentle all at the same time. I know now that I wasn’t just hearing someone play guitar, I was eavesdropping on a love making session. I was too young to get it then….and that was my introduction to Jimi Hendrix.
When we got home to Atlanta, all I wanted was to hear that music again. My parents were properly horrified when I mentioned the names of the artists I had heard in Perry’s room. I was relentless, however. It was a long torturous nag session until finally, in a fit of despair, my mother went to Woolworth’s, (where we bought our records in those days) and bought me….drum roll please….a Monkee’s album. Don’t get me wrong. I had a big, ol’ nasty jones in those days for Peter Tork. I didn’t miss the Monkees on Saturday morning. (A later post, I assure you) but the Monkees weren’t JIMI.
Where was I? I started out asking about your first album purchase, and I haven’t even told you mine. You’ve got to be thinking now that my first purchase was some radical departure from the bubblegum rock sweeping the good old USA, but alas, you’d be wrong. My father took me to the shop and vetoed several choices in my first official exposure to censorship. I ended up buying a double album retrospective of the Beatles called, “Rock and Roll Music” and a copy of Leo Sayer’s “Endless Flight”.
Now you know that the answer to all musical questions on this trip isn’t pretty, friends. Luckily, we’re just getting started on the journey!
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