Mood: Fogbound
Rolling out of bed and ambulating down the hall, I checked the windows where my eyes met a wall of fog. Inspiration seizing me, I reversed course and dropped my head back into its indentation on my pillow. A floof’s unending breakfast song forced a reassessment of my moment after an indeterminant amount of additional Zzzs. I rolled back out of my warm coccoon of sheets and blankets and gave it the old Ashlandia try once more.
This is Saturday. January 11. 2025.
Yarp, fog socks us in. 37 F, air stagnation advisory, high of 42 expected, sunshine is being offered if we can slip fog’s tenacious grasp. Then it might be a pretty day.
Or not. As the barista related to me yesterday morning, “I was on the phone with my room mate and she said, ‘Oh, it’s a pretty day. Think I’ll go outside and do something.’ Then, five minutes later, it was foggy and pouring rain.” Yep, and it didn’t stop until daylight no longer let us in on what was going on outside.
The state of fog has fog-themed music energizing The Neurons. But some of ’em were hooked on an earlier thought about breakfast. Shuffling around, The Neurons pulled up Breakfast in America. Released in 1979, the album gained a life in my music rotation. See, this was back in an era when I bought music albums. Through tech’s evolution, the media shifted. Vinyl, tape, CD, whatev, we hooked the album up with the appropriate device and played the album. By then, I was 23 and made enough money that I could drop $8 on a new album now and again. Put it in perspective, gasoline was less than a dollar a gallon and a cup of coffee was usually less than two. Also, phone service was waaaayyyy cheaper and we didn’t have the net. We in the U.S. had cable and paid less than ten a month for basic.
So you’d take your new album home and play and listen to it while cleaning the house, washing and waxing the car, making and eating meals, and other activities. Happened with sufficient frequency that the songs came to be known in order. Every note and nuance was etched into The Neurons’ aural wetware. Today, they began playing the album for me in my morning mental music stream (Trademark droppy).
First song up is a guitar & keyboard-driven offering to Hollywood, “Gone Hollywood”. Supertramp wasn’t happy about the place at first. Complaints about life and Hollywood interspersed with moody sax playing. Real picker-up with lyrics like, “Ain’t nothing new in my life today. Ain’t nothing true, it’s all gone away.”
But the self-pity fades after the guitar solo and musical bridge. A more upbeat mood takes over. “I’m the talk of the boulevard. So keep your chin up boy, forget the pain, I know you’ll make it if you try again. There’s no use quitting when the world is waiting for you.”
Then there’s the rest of the album. Several hits on there. “The Logical Song.” “Goodbye Stranger.” “Take the Long Way Home.” Yeah, you might know those, if you’re of a certain age and musical preference, or if you drove around with the automobile’s music turned to pop stations in the 1980s.
The fog hasn’t let up but coffee and I made a pact, and it’s going to carry me through the trough of the day. Be good, be real. Here’s the music, and off we go, into the wild gray yonder.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 
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