Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
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.
“Shine” by Collective Soul was playing in the coffee shop when I stopped writing like crazy today.
Released in the early nineties, Collective Soul’s CD became one of my car collection recordings for dealing with traffic and the work day. Maybe strangely, but I always thought of the song as almost like a hard rock prayer, alternating between speculation about existence — “What will I find?” — and then a request to know more — “Heaven, let your light shine down.”
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.
I thought Bush’s Sixteen Stone was an excellent album. Coming out in 1995, it was one of the albums kept in my car to deal with the SF Bay Area Peninsula traffic jams. It ended up as a source for songs that I stream in my head while walking around, too, as it happened today.
Motor on with “Glycerine”.
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.
I’d planned a two-mile walk yesterday evening. Starting I’d end up at the pizza place where my friends and I meet for beers and conversation once a week. Then I’d walk home, giving me a nice, round three-mile walk, a pleasant cap to the day.
A brief thunderstorm had passed through right before I started out. The temperature remained about eighty-five, but thunderstorms still haunted the mountains around our valley, and the humidity had climbed. I heard thunder as I went up the hills, planning to climb high and then descend. As I walked, the temperature dropped about twelve degrees. Rain ratcheted down on me and then stopped. Thunder boomed. Calling an audible, I descended and set on a path to meet with my friends.
Somewhere in all of this, I’d been thinking about plans and priorities. From that, I started streaming Metallica, “Nothing Else Matters”. Now it’s stuck on a loop so I’m putting it out there to release myself.
Enjoy.
I was thinking about transitions that I’ve gone through. Like, I left the military, bought a restaurant, started going to college, got sick, lost the business, and went back into the military.
It was a hell of a year.
So, back in the military in 1980. It was a time of terrific music. I was stationed at Randolph AFB in Texas. I worked in the Command Post in the building that was called the Taj Mahal.
My uncle and his family were there, along with an aunt and her children, so we had a lot of family support there, and lots of good times. The time we were stationed at W-P AFB in Ohio and that time at Randolph were the only times we were near family.
We were only at Randolph for about twenty months before heading to Okinawa. But it was a good assignment, and there was some great music to enjoy.
Today’s music comes from a confrontation with a spider.
We captured and identified the master bath spider, verifying that it wasn’t a black widow. We relocated it anyway, because it was large, and it bothered me to stick my toes into its web in the mornings.
This morning, I addressed the big black widow web out back. Just off the patio, she used a bush and the hose cart as her anchors. I took it down with a broom with a promise to return with some peppermint spray. Spiders, it seems, don’t like peppermint spray. As we don’t kill spiders, we periodically spray peppermint to drive the numbers down and clear some areas.
As I went back in thinking about it, I imagined the black widow already planning to rebuild. I believe when she heard about the peppermint spray, she said, “Hit me with your best shot.”
Cue Pat Benatar. It’s stunning to think of this song as almost forty years old. Just imagine when our rock classics reach the century mark.
Fire away.
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.
Michael Seidel, writer 