Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Today’s theme music comes to me from Pink, 2001. I woke up streaming it. I’d paraphrased the words, though. I was singing, “I’m getting up, so you better get the coffee started, I’m getting up.”
Here is “Get the Party Started”. I enjoy the beat and lyrics, and her activities as she’s getting ready, like sniffing her pits. LOL.
A good one out of the eighties, a reflection that, no matter what happens or who you appear to be, you have a core of who you are. In this case, Sting is the “King of Pain”, part of the new wave rock movement. I don’t know why, but this was the song streaming in me this morning as my cat curled up on my pillow and purred against my head.
I always have enjoyed convertibles. Named spyders and spiders, roadsters, rag tops, I include the targas and tee tops in this group. The top down lets the world in when you’re motoring along.
I was trying my best to emulate that yesterday. A gentle spring sun warmed the day into aspirations of summer. Our little town was an idyllic verdant green. Sunroof and windows open, I was cruising home like it was yesteryear. To help me on that journey, the radio station played C.C.R.’s eight plus minute version of “Suzy Q”. Turning it up, I felt like a teenager for the six minutes that I listened as I drove home.
Not too much to the lyrics. Very straightforward, but I enjoy the guitar work and the variations on the drums and cymbals that arise.
So, reading and listening to news reports (“He was only shot three times in the back, not eight, with three shots in his side” — doesn’t change that he was armed only with his cell phone and was in his own backyard), an old Rolling Stones song started streaming through my mind.
The police in New York City
They chased a boy right through the park
In a case of mistaken identity
They put a bullet through his heart
Heartbreakers with your forty four
I wanna tear your world apart
You heart breaker with your forty four
I wanna tear your world apart
This song was released in 1973, over forty years ago. Pathetic how little has changed, with police shooting black men for little or no probable cause in America, a trend that’s being carried over to homeowners, who fear fourteen-year-old black boys asking for directions. Sad. Sickening.
Here it is, with the bizarre title “Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker)” by the Rolling Stones, from 1973.
I know exactly why and when I started streaming today’s music selection.
I went into the MBR and stripped down in front of a ginger floof. He’d been sleeping but lifted his head and watched me with sleepy eyes, to confirm I didn’t have food and wasn’t a threat. I was speaking to him, telling him what I was doing. Taking off my shirt, I inhaled my armpit essence and told my cat, “Definitely stink this evening. Know what I mean?”
Like that, here comes Lee Michaels streaming through my head with his song, “Do You Know What I Mean”. I enjoyed Lee Michaels’ offerings. This song spoke to me. Its lyrics seem real and autobiographical. The way he sings it delivers pain and bewilderment juxtaposed against a heavy beat with brass sounds that remind me of a circus environment. It’s is an excellent vehicle to capture relationship confusion.
Back when the song came out, my friends never took to the song. Many current friends know it vaguely or not at all. Hope I’m reacquainting you with a song that you enjoy. Cheers
Music about traveling always speaks to me. Between my father’s military career and mine, I moved forty-four times by the time I was forty. Besides moving, I traveled in the military, and then more while in marketing with Silicon Valley startups.
That’s the background. In the foreground, Eddie Rabbit’s song, “Driving My Life Away”, started streaming through me last night. I really enjoy the lyrics:
Well the midnight headlights blind you on a rainy night
Steep grade up ahead slow me down makin no time
Gotta keep rollin
Those windshield wipers slappin out a tempo
Keepin perfect rhythm with the song on the radio
Gotta keep rolling
Ooh I’m driving my life away, looking for a better way, for me
Ooh I’m driving my life away, looking for a sunny day
Well the truck stop cutie comin’ on to me
Tried to talk me into a ride said I wouldn’t be sorry
Oh, but she was just a baby
Well waitress pour me another cup of coffee
Pop me down jack me up shoot me out flyin down the highway
Lookin for the morning
That song, along with his song, “I Love A Rainy Night,” became part of my travel and streaming staples. He was another amazing talent, gone way too damn soon.
The usual nut cluster of dreams swept me last night, providing a sea of material to think about. When the dreams ended, I began streaming an eclectic selection of songs. “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer” (G. Thorogood) “Gloria” (by Laura Brannigan), “Wild Horses” (the Rolling Stones), “Will It Go Round In Circles”, Billy Preston, and “Kyrie” by Mr. Mister. But the last song was Bryan Adams, “Summer of ’69”.
Summer of ’69 was a good year for me, a thirteen-year-old white boy living in a middle-class suburban housing plan in Penn Hills, outside of Pittsburgh, Pa. I had a good cotorie of friends, and was playing sports, enjoying school, and meeting girls. Likewise, when the song was released in 1985, I was with a unit I enjoyed. Although I was traveling a lot, the song fit my mood. Released in June, it was a big hit by the time I returned from the field to America a few months later.
The song becomes a unique bridge then, between my early teen years, my early thirties, and now, my early sixties. Let’s rock.
I’m streaming a favorite Led Zeppelin song from a favorite Led Zeppelin album. These lyrics always speak to me, and I enjoy their delivery:
“Walking through the park the other day baby, what d’ya think I saw?”
“I didn’t notice but it had got very dark and I was really, really out of my mind.”
“You really don’t care, if they’re coming. Whoa oh, I know that it’s all a state of mind.”
This was my generation’s music (oh, great, now I’ve started streaming a Who song).
Anyway, here’s a little “Misty Mountain Hop,” from almost half a century ago.
So, yeah, streaming this in my head: “You spin me right round, baby, right round.” That’s something to have going through your head.
I don’t know much about the group who performed it “You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)”. The song came out in 1985. I was traveling a lot in the military. Stationed in South Carolina in America, I traveled from Africa to America to Asia, and back again, dipping down to Florida and Louisiana, up to WV, PA, Illinois, and to New Jersey, and a few other places. When in Asia and America, we were mostly cut off from modern pop culture. This was by the military’s doing, as we were trying to blend in. No uniforms, tee shirts, jeans, ball caps, and sports shoes (or cowboy boots, buckles, and hats), because those were all considered indicators that we were ‘Mericans. Always travel in a group of three, but never more than five. And don’t take the same routes, or travel the same times every day.
Anyway, I ended up with spotty exposure to what was happening in America, with these gaps that were sometimes sixty days long. Sixty days in pop culture? Songs came and went in that period.
First time I saw the video is today. Have to laugh. This song is catchy, though, like electronic popcorn, with easy to learn lyrics, right? It’s stuck in my head today, so, hello? Take it off me, would you? Before I get spun right round again.
In one of those serendipity moments that I enjoy, I’d started streaming “Le Freak” by Chic yesterday. This was a disco era hit from 1978. It was all washing across the airwaves, so it washed into my brain.
Why was I singing along to the stream in my mind yesterday? Don’t knoaw. But reading this day in history, Studio 54 opened back in 1977. The place was a curiosity. Partiers and the famous and wealthy loved it, but it triggered a meh response in me.
Here is where the serendipity arrives. Chic band members wrote the song “Le Freak” when one of their members (Niles Rodgers) was turned away.
Here’s to the disco era. Let’s freak out!
Michael Seidel, writer 