Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
This song, “Heatwave”, performed by Martha and the Vandellas, came out in July, 1963. I’d just turned seven, so I’ve known this song almost all of my life. It’s a terrific song, full of energy, pop, and harmonies, with some fat sax thrown in. Many other excellent covers have since been offered, but I’ll stay with the original, thanks.
Clap along, clap along.
I don’t know where I first heard this hit. It came out in ’63. I was seven. It’s not Mom and Dad’s style of music, and my older sister was only nine, so I discount all those sources. Later, of course, it was played on AM pop and FM rock stations, and wormed its way into movies like Animal House. I dig (catch that lingo) that the hit was performed by a band from Portland in my adopted state of Oregon.
Here is “Louie Louie” performed by The Kingsmen.
I always think of this as a party song. It’s been covered by many, like the Blues Brothers, but I love this original.
Here is the Spencer Davis Group with Steve Winwood and their hit, “Gimme Some Lovin'”, from when I was ten, in 1966. You can imagine how this beat and the chorus appealed to a kid.
Still appeals to me.
Odd, intriguing video, though.
I frequently think that there is a thin veil of existence that keeps me from successfully achieving goals. Sometimes, the stillest moments, I think I can see it, just barely shading my thoughts and being. It often comes when I’ve built energy toward a direction and I’m closing on the finish, but see the quantity of work that still remains.
Then I urge myself, break on through. So the Doors’ song, “Break On Through (To the Other Side)” became one of my rallying songs. Almost there – break on through. Press on. Go, go, go.
Today’s theme owes its presence in my stream to Burt Bacharach, Hal David, Dionne Warwick, and Helix.
It stayed in my stream because it had a presence in my life. “Do You Know the Way to San Jose” was a hit for that impressive singer/songwriter trio way back when I was twelve years old, so I grew up with it. Living on the Peninsula in Mountain View and Sunnyvale between San Francisco and San Jose, we naturally joked about the way to San Jose. Then, watching Helix on Netflix the other night, the song was used to help create the pilot’s surreal opening scenes.
Here we go, then. It’s a mellow, jaunty vehicle for singing along, so feel free to indulge yourself.
It seems like I’m staunchly streaming 1971. I’d heard “Every Picture Tells A Story” on the radio the other day and awoke with Rod Stewart singing “Maggie May” in my head.
With that, I thought about that year. Wasn’t watching much television that comes to mind. I listened to music, wrote, and drew. Infatuated with cars, I bought sketch pads and designed cars. I thought I might go into car designing, but things changed.
1976 found me in U.S.A.F. and stationed at Clark AB in the Philippines with the 3rd TFW. I was nineteen, and one of the guys I worked with was thirty-four. We were having a San Miguel beer at an office-sponsored BBQ when “Maggie May” came on the radio. He said, “Oh, I love this song.”
That surprised me. Before his confession, I’d only heard him listen to country and western music, so I started talking to him about music. We had a wonderful conversation, one that was eye-opening for me about judgments and the slide of time.
1971
Besides being a rock fan and fifteen years old, I was an auto racing fan. My father was in the U.S.A.F. He’d just returned from being stationed in Germany and was now stationed at DESC near Wright-Patterson AFB in Ohio when I moved in with him. He surprised me with tickets to the premiere of LeMans with Steve McQueen.
Whenever I hear the movie’s opening minutes, I’m back in that packed movie theater, one of the few children in the place, remembering the movie’s beginning, and Dad. The start is just the sounds and images of racing cars of the era screaming around the French race track. To non-fans, it’s probably noise. But to racing fans, the sounds of Porsches and Ferraris of different-sized engines, Alfas, Corvettes, and Matras can all be heard as individual howls.
Dad had no interest in seeing the movie, but he knew I wanted to. So, thanks, Dad.
I heard this song, “Join Together,” by the Who on the radio yesterday. It’s a song that came out the year I turned sixteen, 1972.
Naturally, my mind started looping it. I find the beginning, with the Jew’s harps and mouth organs a fascinating start, and enjoy how other instruments pile in. I admire the lyrics’ sentiments, too – join together. During this era of increasingly divisive politics, it’s a refreshing break to think about joining together and going on.
Well, this was a weird stream. I was reading about the FBI’s investigation into Russian meddling in the 2016 U.S. election campaign for president when I came across the term crossfire hurricane. The FBI used it as a code name for the investigation. The Wayback Machine immediately fired up a stream from a 1969 Rolling Stones hit called “Jumpin’ Jack Flash”. The first line that I remembered went, “I was born in a crossfire hurricane.”
I think the song’s beginning is terrific. One, two.
I was in conversation with the barista today when I flashed back to an early nightmare.
I lived on McNary Blvd in Wilkinsburg, PA. I think I was around eight or nine years old. I’d stayed up watching “Chiller Theater” with Bill Cardille on which I was able to see the original version of the movie, The Fly, which came out in 1958 (yeah, I looked it up). A horror film, I thought it was pretty damn entertaining.
Naturally, though, it played with my mind, resulting in a nightmare. In the nightmare, I stuck my toe into an outlet by my bed, shocking myself. Upon walking, I discovered it was storming outside. The lightning flashes did an excellent job of twisting the bedroom furniture into other beings. I was positive that the chest of drawers was a robot walking toward me.
I remember, too, Mom telling me to keep it down, or I’ll wake the baby. Ah, good times!
