I’ve been reading a lot about walls in recent months for some odd reason.
Walls. Are they needed? Do they work? Are they being built? How much do they cost? Can’t we just buy a DIY at Home Depot?
Wondering why there’s all this talk about walls was obviously an invitation for “Wonderwall” by Oasis (1995) to slip over and around my walls and into my stream.
It fits as a song for the times, though; wonderwall, in the modern urban sense, is about a person you’re infatuated with.
Lots of people seem infatuated with walls these days.
Looking at the stars last night on a beautifully clear night, I thought of David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” (1972). Love this video of David and his band – look at that fine young dude.
I’m afraid today’s music is another one that just snuck into the stream and refuses to depart. I don’t know why it came in – I was cleaning the kitchen at the time and planning my day.
“Rosanna” by Toto isn’t a bad song at all. I got to know it and all of Toto IV (1982) intimately. I was stationed at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa, Japan, at the time. My best bud, Jeff, loved the Toto IV album. The harmonies enthralled him. We used to go camping up at Okuma, where the military had a recreation area, and Toto IV with “Rosanna” was always played a few times a day.
Good ol’ Jeff. Fun, smart guy. Haven’t heard from or about him in decades.
Today’s song penetrated the stream with no obvious reason. No memories or brain cells are standing up to say, “I did it. It was me.” Investigations and research have ended with no solid leads.
The song came out in 1961. I was five. Don’t know if I heard it that year, but I’ve heard it a buncha times later. You probably know it, too. It’s still in my head, and I need to get it out, so I’m foisting it on others.
I was standing in my grass in my bare feet, breathing the morning air, looking around and remembering my dream. A shaft of sunshine found me, or I found it. I called the cat, Meep, aka the Ginger Prince, ‘real name’ Papi, and he came up and over the fence, flying at me with heroic music. I was thinking about change still, so some of the lyrics to “Change” by Blind Melon (1992) chugged into the stream.
And when you feel life ain’t worth living
You’ve got to stand up, and take a look around
And you look up, way to the sky
And when your deepest thoughts are broken
Keep on dreamin’, boy
‘Cause when you stop dreamin’, it’s time to die
I remembered the words well enough but like copying and pasting lyrics sites like Genius.com to get them correct. I continue dreaming in the nocturnal sense and the hopeful sense of pursuing goals. I’m always looking at the sky.
I don’t have any broken dreams, just dreams refined and postponed. I feel that I should note that Shannon Hoon, who wrote and sang “Change” passed away from a drug overdose when he was 28, just as they found greater success. The song was released well before his death, but I listen to it differently after he died.
Today’s song popped out of nowhere into my stream, nowhere being an easy reference to the interior realms of the space where my little gray brain cells huddle for warmth. But overhearing the women across the coffee shop talking (powerful stage voices), the song is appropriate.
“Changes” by David Bowie (1972) was already nestled in my cerebellum when I sat down but I wasn’t sure if it was today’s music. Then I heard the women talking.
First, they mentioned streaming services. They were comparing Netflix and Amazon Prime (or Prime Video), and how they share and release shows and movies on their sights. Talking about Amazon Prime prompted one to mention the free two-day shipping on many items, and the associated guarantees. A joke about getting stuff faster so you would order more faster emerged. Memories about ordering stuff in the old days and getting it six to eight weeks followed. It usually came by mail, too. UPS and Fed Ex trucks weren’t rushing around every where in those days.
Then they talked about catalogs. Spiegel’s. Sears. Montgomery Wards. Ah, yes, they’d ordered from all of them, and had fond memories of ordering from the Spiegel’s calendar. (I’ve ordered from them all, too, especially when I lived outside of the U.S. in the 1970s.) The women then recollected tales of the outhouse where the Sears catalog sometimes ended up, as those thin pages worked well to clean up after your business.
Last, they recalled S&H Green Stamps and using a sponge to paste pages at a time.
Yep, “Changes” is appropriate for today, from the weather and the seasons, to the music and the times, and how long it takes for your order to arrive.
I decided to use this Youtube offering of “Changes” because of Bowie’s photo. Look at the lad. Ah, changes.
Of course, only the first line had a remote connection to what was going on. I was waiting, they came, we said a few things, and went on with our business. That’s a bit unlike the Foo Fighters’ song, “Everlong” (1997) about being happy in a relationship and realizing it was ending, and if anything will ever be as wonderful as that.
Yeah, been there, more than once. Once there’s a fracture in the relationship, it doesn’t seem like anything is ever the same again. From the break comes loss, confusion, and distrust. You put it behind you, but it nags like an ulcer on your lip.
Today’s song arrived in the stream last night when I was thinking about change. Deliberate and focused change for people is often hard for all the elements of comfort and routine that our habits incorporate. It’s easier to do as we’ve always do rather than embracing a new way. These change require time, mindfulness, discipline, and persistence to see them through.
Thinking along those line as I walked through the back yard introduced the song, “Tulsa Time” by Don Williams (1978). It’s a country and western song, not generally my milieu, but I’ve lived in places back that catered to country and western music tastes, heard it, and picked it up. Then Eric Clapton did a few live versions of it.
I was amused but reflecting on the song, I conclude that “Tulsa Time” was a metaphor for trying and failing to change.
Well, then I got to thinkin’
Man I’m really sinkin’
An I really had a flash this time
I had no business leavin’
An nobody would be grievin’
If I just went on back to Tulsa time.
This song popped up due to a FB meme featuring Frank Zappa. After some bits of his songs streamed through my head, his biggest U.S. hit, “Valley Girl” (1982), got into it.
“Valley Girl”, valspeak, and the entire valley girl phenomena thundered through popular culture in the 1980s. “Gag me with a spoon” became a standard catchphrase until you were ready to strangle anyone uttering it.
Someone’s overheard comment (complaint) about their daily-weekly-monthly routines about doing the same thing and wondering where have all the good times gone brought home today’s theme music.
I’ve selected “Where Have All The Good Times Gone” for today, and went with the Van Halen cover (1982). A friend of mine who was a big VH fan liked this song but thought it was a little simple. I told him that I thought it was better than the Kinks’ version, which was the original, from somewhere in the mid-sixties. (Turned out to be from 1965.) He wasn’t aware that it was a cover, thinking that it was a VH original, but decided, that’s why it was such a simple song.
On reflection, each version represents how pop rock sounded at the time of their release.
Michael Seidel, writer 