‘Smoke On the Water’ was a big hit for Deep Purple in 1973.
I was finishing my high school junior year when this air guitar-inspiring, head bopping power rock of the finest vintage. That it was based on a true story and had interesting references in the lyrics was an added bonus. Crank this song up and the walls would throb while the windows rattled. Peers, though, would share my grin. Guys loved it; girls tolerated it. We couldn’t hear anything else, but what the hell did it matter?
It was a good song for lighting up a doobie, which sometimes happened back then.
I moved in with Dad in nineteen seventy-one. I was fifteen. He was in the U.S. Air Force, and had returned from Vietnam by way of Germany (where he had a gorgeous blue Mustang convertible). Now assigned to DESC, Wright-Pat AFB provided administrative support. We lived on Page Manor military base housing.
That lasted about three months. Presented with an opportunity and having his years in, Dad retired from the Air Force. We moved to southern West Virginia. After moving into a place, it burned down. If we didn’t lose our possessions to fire, we lost them to smoke and water damage. He and I spent a month living in a friend’s home but it was small and cramped. Unable to find anything else, Dad bought a seventy-foot long, fourteen foot wide mobile home and rented a space in Doy Mobile Home Park.
In retrospect, Dad lived through an interesting period then. He re-married when I was sixteen, almost seventeen. New offspring soon followed. Graduating high-school, and with a second child on the way to join Dad’s household, I joined the military and left.
Dad had two young sons by the year’s end. One of them was killed in a car accident. The loss destroyed his marriage. He ended up having an affair with a co-worker. Her marriage was disintegrating. Her husband was already suffering emotional issues, and committed suicide. Dad moved in with the widow. That all took place in a six year run.
From that era comes a song that makes me laugh. Ranked as one of the greatest pop songs of all time, it came out in nineteen seventy-two. Carly Simon’s song, You’re So Vain’, stays in conversations about who the song is about. She’s given clues. Others claim she’s confided in them. Men like Warren Beatty insisted the song was about him.
I’m still streaming from my childhood years in the Pittsburgh area today. This one came out while I live in Penn Hills. Those days were filled with school and snow activities in the winter, and sports and friends just about every day. When the sun heated the days into the eighties and nineties in the summer, Penn Hills was a gorgeous backdrop to growing up. Baseball was our big thing. With Maz, Steve Blass, Roberto Clemente, Willie Stargell, Manny Sanguillen, Richie Hebner, Al Oliver, Manny Alou, and big Dave Parker, the Pirates under Danny Murtaugh had become a force. The Steelers’ emergence remained a few years away.
The era’s music seemed customized for our lives. This song, ‘Psychedelic Shack’, by the Temptations, is from nineteen seventy. The lyrics are easy to learn and the beat carries me like a wave.
This is one of my favorite songs. The voice, words, sentiment and tempo all suit me. From nineteen seventy-one, I don’t know when or where I first heard it. I sometimes stream it to myself. This is a song I loved, but I never owned a copy. Its truths remain true: what happened to our blue skies? What are we doing to the animals with radiation underground? Why do so many give so little care or interest about the planet’s ecology?
Here’s Marvin Gaye with ‘Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)’.
Today’s selection is streaming from nineteen seventy-one.
A year of personal change, this was the year I moved in with Dad. He’d just returned from Germany and was assigned to DESC in the Dayton, Ohio, area. We lived in Page Manor housing.
I was fifteen. It was the year I met my wife, although that didn’t become known to me for a few years. This song, ‘Signs’, by the Five Man Electrical Band, suited my milieu. Tesla later did a decent cover, but my stream is sentimental today, so I hung with the original.
I was a long-haired freaky person, so the words speak to me: “Signs, signs, everywhere signs. Blocking our scenery, breaking my mind. Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the signs?” I was rebelling against signs and the conformance they urged and demands they made. Signs still inundate our lives, and if there’s not a sign, there’s probably an app.
I first learned of Stevie Ray Vaughn rather late. A literature professor introduced me to SRV’s work. Stationed at Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, Japan, in nineteen eighty-three, I was taking classes with the University of Maryland, and my wife and I became friends with the professor. He had several PhDs, acquired during his career as a professional student seeking to be a rock star by playing guitar with a local band.
He was incredulous that I didn’t know who SRV was and insisted on giving me a cassette tape of ‘Texas Flood’. I was hooked. Here is ‘Pride and Joy’, a good way to start a morning. Time for some pancakes.
The shoes bothered him. Being a self-effacing sort, he disliked calling attention to himself. He liked sitting in the back, entering and departing without being noticed.
These shoes drew attention. More expensive than he would pay for shoes, they were made by an Italian designer, and were long and very pointed. He preferred more subtle, workman style of shoes that tended to look clunky. Sometimes, she claims, they look like bowling shoes, an indictment uttered with disdain and horror.
So these shoes were bought because of her. Yet, he was wearing them and enduring. Then people complimented him on them. They claimed to really like the shoes.
Was a lesson learned? Not really. She was right about the shoes, as he thought she would be, but he was still a person who preferred to avoid attention.
Back at it. Things usually don’t work out as expected or desired for me. I plan for a reasonable knock-off of the best and forge forward. Yeah.
I have this thing going on, this writing thing. Besides the arc of learning, there are the arcs of success, not just with a career, but with each novel, every effort and each writing day. Some days, I want to chuck it. Those days are infrequent and come about when I’m hunting for something I think is missing. I’ll not give up. In the immortal lyrics of Judas Priest, “You think I’ll let it go, you’re mad, you got another thing comin’.”
Here they are, singing all about it back in nineteen eighty-two. Hope it helps you crystallize your determination.
Now, nose down, time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Visiting with Mom, my brain stream naturally turns toward the music I heard then. One of my favorites of nineteen seventy-one was ‘Brown Sugar’ by the Rolling Stones. I was fifteen then and thought, “This is rock and roll.”
Hope you have a good Sunday. Hope you enjoy the song.
“Let’s dance. Put on your red shoes and dance the blues.”
Yeah, I’m hearing it like it’s nineteen eighty-three. Good year for me. Exciting future ahead. Woo-hoo. The future was so bright, I had to wear shades. I never knew then that I’d be worrying about the sun going down on me. Never thought about walking the line, dancing in the dark, or learning to fly. Yet, here I am sixty going on a million, flapping my arms and trying to catch the wind beneath my wings.
It’s all a pot of words, a stew of ideas, a stream of visions and information, a stick, a stone, the end of the road.
Here’s some Saturday morning Bowie. He always knew more than us.
