Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
We went downtown to Ashland’s plaza last night to see the menorah lighting. While watching it, naturally I began streaming Journey’s “Lights” (1978), because, you know, lights. Steve Perry was the group’s vocalist in when the song was first released, and I prefer his treatment of this song. Of course, streaming it to myself while a menorah was lit, we shivered in the cold gathering dark, without a bay in sight, amused me.
WTH.
A song fragment (songment?) had been trapped in my stream’s turbidity, no quite accreting enough other notes to become fully recalled, and driving me insane. All I could hear is the lead vocalist say, “Come on, move me.” Some guitar then followed.
Four A.M. this morning, the song finally fully entered my stream. It’s a little ditty called “Going Mobile” by a band called “The Who” that was released in 1971. Included on one of my favorite Who albums, Who’s Next, I don’t think of “Going Mobile” as their finest work, with interesting instrumentation lacing together some confusing and conflicting ideas.
Play the tape machine, make the toast and tea
When I’m mobile
Well, I can lay in bed
With only highway ahead
When I’m mobile, keep me moving
Being a literal sort, I always thought, how can he lay in bed with only highway ahead?
At least my brain can rest easy with the song remembered at last, and I can go on with other matters. Back to you, Jim.
Two songs are competing in my stream today. I can’t remember one of them. I remember two lines and a few guitar chords and licks. I hear the vocals, know the voice, but can’t remember the vocalist, song, or group. Using the few clues I have, I’ve hunted for its identification, and I’ve failed to find satisfaction. So, screw you, song.
The other is another Aerosmith song. Reflecting on that, a room mate was forced on me during part of my assignment in the Philippines (1976-1977). Forced is the correct expression because regulations forbid people in my specialty, which involved controlling nuclear launches, from having a room mate. Yet, most of my assignments found me with a room mate for part of the time, as the local commanders would sign a waiver to the reg. Of course, the waiver was usually rescinded after the command got wind of it, and the room mate was found another place to live.
This guy, Eric, was a large Aerosmith fan. He had a huge stereo, big speakers, amp, turntable, tuner, equalizer, tape player, but only four albums. Two of them were Rocks and Toys in the Attic, so I heard them a lot. I realize, that’s why I know those albums so thoroughly.
Anyway, today I’m streaming “Same Old Song and Dance” (1974). Sure, it’s December, a brand spanking new month, the last month of 2018. 2019 and January will soon be on us. But you know, it feels like the same old story, the same old song and dance, my friends.
It’s some ol’ school rock.
I was streaming Robert Palmer’s cover of “Give Me the News (Doctor Doctor)” from 1979 this morning as I attended household busy work. Various reasons prompted me to stream it, and it to do with cats and coffee. Go figure. I always enjoy the energy of Palmer’s version, which was much more lovely than the original.
Today’s song streamed into my head after I thought of another song.
The other song was “Sara Smile”, by Hall and Oates, which I thought of after meeting a friend’s daughter named Sarah. After thinking about it while walking, I remembered “She’s Gone” by the same duo.
“She’s Gone” (1974) came out during a period of struggle in my relationship with my girlfriend. I’d graduated high school and she was traveling Europe with a nun. I felt lost, and ended up enlisting in the military, upsetting just about everyone I knew. That’s life, right? “She’s Gone” appealed to my sense of loss, frustration, searching, and self-pity. I particularly enjoyed the lyrics, “Think I’ll spend eternity in the city. Let the carbon and monoxide choke my thoughts away, yeah.”
What a time. Hormones, you know? Etc.
Today’s theme music comes via Patriot on Amazon. I’ve been watching the first year. I enjoy the underplayed, minimalist, absurdist show, but its opening theme song caught my attention. I felt that I knew it but I didn’t know anything about it.
Wikipedia provided the needed details. “Train Song” by Vashti Bunyan. Originally released in 1966, I thought I knew it from that era, but found that it could have been from exposure as its use in Reebok ads or “True Detective”. Whichever the route, I find it haunting and sweet. In an aside, I discovered Vashti Bunyan has been called the “Godmother of Freak Folk.” Would that be Frock?
Today’s song emerges from the country-rock genre (crock?) and the mists of 1973. 1973 was a good year and a bad year, a memorable year and a forgettable year, a year of tests and trials and learning, and a year of growing, wondering, coping with hormones, and passing days doin’ nothin’. I was seventeen for ’bout half of the year, and sixteen for the other half.
“Amie”, by Pure Prairie League, is a light melody with folkish overtones. The lyrics are easy to hear, learn, and remember. It’s a good song to sing to your floofs, should you feel a need to sing to them.
As always, the lyrics catch me. When hearing the song, you might think, this is about the singer trying to woe Amie. It’s not. This is about the man’s ambivalence about his relationship with Amie, and her decision to move on. Meanwhile, he laments that she’s taking so long to decide. The decision’s been made, dude.
Don’t you think the time is right for us to find
All the things we thought weren’t proper could be right in time?
And can you see which way we should turn, together or alone?
I can never see what’s right or what is wrong
Oh, you take too long
Read more: Pure Prairie League – Amie Lyrics | MetroLyrics
Most telling is at the end, as he sings, “I keep falling in and out of love with you.” Amie knows this, and she’s tired of it. That’s why he’s asking, “Aime, what you wanna do?” He’s in full denial and full of hope.
She is not.
NOTE: This analysis is my own. As with anything I say or write, it could be complete bullshit. Just think of it as Schrödinger’s bullshit.
Well, it’s a typical lament, innit? “I wish I knew then what I know now, when I was younger.”
Seems like my mind is in a folk-rock (should that be called frock? No?) disposition from its recent streamings. Croce, Fogerty (and I’ve been streaming CCR), and now some Faces. Here’s a 1973 gem, “Ooh La La). Love the piano playing on this.
This one comes via another blog’s memory prompt. Jill Dennison posted “Photographs and Memories” the other day. It brought back a sharp memory of hearing that song. I was driving in my forest green 1965 Mercury Comet sedan. I’d graduated earlier that year, 1974, enlisted in the U.S. Air Force, and was waiting to leave for basic training. But that day, I was driving my girl friend home on a sunny fall day. Two years later, when I was stationed at Wright-Patterson AFB, I married her. We remained married forty-three years later.
Funny what a song can bring to mind.
