Saturday’s Theme Music

I discovered myself humming “An Old Fashioned Love Song” (1971) performed by Three Dog Night this morning. The song came out in 1971. Cannae tell ya’ where it came from or what provoked the stream to pick it up and deliver it to my brain. Didn’t relate to anything that I dreamed last night.

The song didn’t stay with me long today, fading as I walked, but I enjoyed the visit and thought I’d share it with thee. Paul Williams wrote it. It was from a time when he wrote several romantic songs in the late 1960s and early 1970s, that others, like Helen Reddy and The Carpenters, had as hit records.

 

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Friday’s Theme Music

More weather dictated theme music. I’m planning to dress, looking out the window, checking the temperature and forecast. Hey, fifty-one, windy as hell, but sunny. So, I’ll be walking in sunshine.

It was an easy jump in the stream to Katrina and the Waves and “Walking On Sunshine” (1985).

Thursday’s Theme Music

I was humming this song to myself today. Actions are connected to thoughts and thoughts are connected to memories, and memories yield songs. I was quoting Popeye, “I yam what I yam”, which introduced thoughts about changing, providing the opportunity for a song to stream in:

But I’m here in my mould, I am here in my mould
And I’m a million different people from one day to the next
I can’t change my mould, no, no, no, no, no

Read more: The Verve – Bitter Sweet Symphony Lyrics | MetroLyrics

I was living in Mountain View and working for PAS in Palo Alto when the song came out in 1997. Two years later, another company acquired PAS. My new boss, the director of marketing, came out on a meet and greet. I drove him to a restaurant. This song was playing in the car, and he said, “I love this song.” Music became our bond.

He was a good guy to work for, a person I wouldn’t hesitate to work for again.

 

Wednesday’s Theme Music

I can’t trace the roots of why I’m streaming this song today. Didn’t have the record, or any of this group’s albums. I knew the song came out sometime in the mid to late 1970s, but had to look it up to find it.

The airways often shaped the musical landscape then, with television giving musical groups and their hits a step up via Soul Train, American Bandstand, and a few other shows like that. FM stereo was growing in popularity, with multiple stations dedicated to rock, soul, R&B, and country genres going on air. Once songs began getting air time, they would move up the charts, gain more air time. Suddenly they were in your ears.

Nothing wrong with that, of course. When I first started driving in 1974, our area had three FM stations. You’d punch the buttons and move around between them. I don’t punch buttons now, but gently tap them to move ‘tween stations, or use my thumb on a rocker button my steering wheel to advance to the next setting. I have five FM stations that I prefer in my area, but I also play satellite FM. The satellite capability offers about a zillion stations, but I listen to eight primary music stations when I’m drivin’ ’round town.

This song, “Baby Come Back” (1977) by Player, came to me by radio saturation. The song reminds me of Hall & Oates. I was stationed in the Philippines when it was released. We only had one station, the Armed Forces Network Philippines (AFN-P). It’s an okay song, doesn’t stir me in any particular direction, but it’s part of my memoryscape.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

With an icy wind slicing up my cheeks, I thought about living by the ocean. The ocean is always warm in my mind, even though I have experience with being at the ocean and running from arctic blasts. I guess it’s my reality that it’s not cold when you’re living by the ocean. Naw, just looking for a change from the mountains around me where icy wintry fingers are slowly clenching around it, and thought, beach! Sun! Warmth!

Which prompted the stream to deliver Everclear. You know, “We can live beside the ocean.” Except then, it being Everclear, “Santa Monica” (1995) becomes a bit dark with sparks of hope and longing for havens where we live unencumbered by all the shit wrapping its tentacles around us.

 

Compelling

It was the fourth series of the show. I’d watched and enjoyed two episodes. Character driven but with a strong plot, the pacing was fast, with powerful acting. Then I watched the third episode…

As George T. would say, “Oh myyyy…”

I had to know what happened next. The plotting became diabolical, with more twists and cutbacks than a lonely mountain road. The characters’ complexities increased, the acting stayed sharp and the pacing intensified.  WTH, I thought as Monday slipped into Tuesday, I’ll watch one more. Then I watched another, and then, well, only one remained.

So it was that I’d binge-watched the final four episodes. And it was fucking brilliant and clever, what I look for in my entertainment. No wonder it’s been consistently nominated for awards, and often wins. Love that series, but they’re so far apart. Just like they do to me with Game of Thrones, Stranger Things, and several other series I enjoy.

Sure, I didn’t get to bed until two thirty on Tuesday morning, but I have no regrets, and lots of coffee.

 

Monday’s Theme Music

Today’s song came via the weather. Our forecast for today said it will be sunny but a drizzle was falling, so, you know, I was a mite skeptical. When sunshine finally broke through, so did a Donovan song, “Sunshine Superman” (1966).

I enjoy this video. Television, music, and entertainment all seemed simpler, didn’t it?

Sunday’s Theme Music

Piddling through the morning and ruminating about what to do today and this week, I drifted into channels that went, “Life. It’s just a game we play.”

That naturally activated certain cells. Next thing that I know, I’m streaming Al Wilson’s “Show and Tell” (1973) because of that one set of lines go, “Show and tell. Just a game I play when I want to say, I love you.”

It’s another song from that era whose every note is familiar. Reflecting on it as I walked to write, I realize that the song makes me nostalgic for that period in a way that other songs don’t. Perhaps it’s the words and their sentiments, and the way that Al Wilson delivers them. It could be the chilly and windy weather stirring up memory flashes of being in Penn Hills, PA, when the song was popular. The sky’s color out here today harkens back to memories of snow warnings.

We don’t have snow warnings here today, but some rain is forecast. As usual, untangling the threads of memories and impressions are too much. I’ll just live with the song and nostalgia.

Saturday’s Theme Music

I didn’t know who originally did this song. I don’t know why I was streaming it this morning. Somehow, between feeding the cats, opening the blinds, making breakfast and coffee, I started streaming “Gimme Little Sign” to myself. It’s one of those instances where the why is buried, but becoming aware that I was streaming it to myself, I looked the song up and learned Brenton Wood recorded and released it in 1967.

It feels like a ’67 song, mellow and relaxed, about love and relationships, and hopeful. Perhaps, subconsciously, I was talking to God(s), the Universal, the Fates, whatever, and saying to myself (or them), “Just give me some kind of sign,” about what to do or what’s to happen, and brought this song to mind. You know how humans are.

We’re all a little crazy. We’re all just looking for a little sign.

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