Today’s song comes from encountering a friend as I was doing my post-writing walkabout. As we parted, he said, “Got to keep walking?” I replied, “Yes, I’m a roadrunner, baby, got to keep on moving on.”
That’s a line straight out of Humble Pie’s cover of “Road Runner” (1972). It’s a bluesy rock song that appealed to me when I was first heard it when I was fifteen. It still does, and I frequently stream it in my head when I’m on a long walk, especially when going up into the higher levels of the southern part of town. The walk up will strain your legs and lungs. There are houses up there (along with bears and cougars), but not many people are seen outside of infrequent motorists or dog-walkers. The air is clear and sharp, and the view across the valley is gorgeous in all seasons. It’ll clear your head.
Two women walked by me in the other direction. As I passed them, they slowed, and one said, “Sometimes, you need to be cruel to be kind.”
No! As soon as I heard it, I tried blocking my musical stream. But the buttons had been pushed, and the Nick Lowe song, “Cruel to be Kind” (1979) popped into my head.
I knew exactly who sang this song. When the catchy tune first came out, I had no idea who sang it. As it continually got stuck in my head, I looked the artist up. It’s not a bad song or anything, not bad for streaming in my head as I walk. I don’t know why my stream has such an affinity for it. The song seems to have that word rhythm that sucks me in.
Sparked by the line, “Only the young can say,” the song was streaming through me this morning. Being old – well, technically advanced middle-aged (AMA) has some advantages, but I think that being young can offer some, too. Like, it’s easier to start over and look forward.
But then again, we can channel Frank Sinatra in our streams and stay young at heart. That must count for something so I added it. Released in 1953, “Young at Heart” is three years older than me. LOL
38 Special began as a standard southern rock band. Their sound became more mainstream rock than the likes of Marshall Tucker, the Allman Brothbers, CDB, by their third album. I liked the transition. This song, “Hold On Loosely” (1981), epitomized the new sound. I offer it today because it’s stuck in my ear. While it’s a good song, it’s been looping in my stream for the last twelve hours. I need to get it out of there before I start screaming.
“We Got the Beat”, by the Go-Go’s (1980), slipped into my stream while I was walking yesterday. An energetic song, reminiscent of sixties surfer music, it’s a good song to stream while walking at a brisk pace. The song’s mindless enough to present a good walking time without distracting me from thinking about writing, politics, cars, people, and the places that I pass.
It’s also a pretty good song for a Saturday, if you’re planning a party. I’m not, but you can use it. It gives a good energy bump.
Reaching back today to ’67, when I was eleven. Feels like a hundred years ago and feels like yesterday evening. Cream was a short-lived supergroup. Eric Clapton was already one of my guitar idols. Here comes Cream with those quasi-psychedelic, hard-rock, deep bass song, “Sunshine of Your Love”. I heard it and thought it was the future’s edge swinging toward me.
Now I sing it as a walk the street, sunshine on my head, laptop in my backpack, heading to the coffee shop to write, and think of it more as an homage to sunshine. At least, that’s why I was singing it yesterday. I thought the sunshine would enjoy it.
As thoughts of impeachment, revolution, rebellion, and strife clashed against another potential Middle-East war, an old song popped into the ol’ music memory stream as I walked around Ashland.
Take the children and yourself
And hide out in the cellar
By now the fighting will be close at hand
Don’t believe the church and state
And everything they tell you
Believe in me, I’m with the high command
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
There’s a gun and ammunition
Just inside the doorway
Use it only in emergency
Better you should pray to God
The Father and the Spirit
Will guide you and protect from up here
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Can you hear me, can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?
Swear allegiance to the flag
Whatever flag they offer
Never hint at what you really feel
Teach the children quietly
For some day sons and daughters
Will rise up and fight while we stood still
“Silent Running” by Mike + the Mechanics was released in 1985. Whenever I hear silent running as a phrase, I think of the 1972 science-fiction movie that starred Bruce Dern. The gist of the movie is that plants can no longer grow on Earth. Dern’s character is onboard a ship with large greenhouses in a solar orbit. They’re out there growing plants. When they’re ordered to destroy the greenhouses and return their ship to do other things, Dern’s character rebels. That’s when the fun begins.
I suppose that it won’t surprise anyone to learn that today’s song, “Can’t Fight This Feeling” by REO Speedwagon (1985) came about from a food fight. I was fighting with myself about eating something. Not anything critical (chocolate was involved), it wasn’t that big a deal, a restriction that I put upon myself. The climax came when I said, “Screw it, I can’t fight this any more, I’m eating it!” That opened the stream to one of the Speedwagon’s hits from its multi-platinum album, Hi Infidelity. The song’s not really my cuppa – too soft, really – but it’s soothing on the ears.
My dreams were were story dreams, basically telling of times when I seemed to live in other times and places. Some were futuristic, which were more interesting. I remember looking thinking in one dream, is this a dream, or knowledge of another life? It was fun and thrilling.
All that, on waking, took me on a walk through my characters’ happenings as I’m finishing April Showers 1921 (first draft). I’m tying final plot and action strings together. Some of it’s a little knotty.
From those musings popped the Neil Diamond 1966 song, “Solitary Man”. That song amused me because those characters don’t know that song and would never think of it, or apply it to their lives and situations.
Then, though, I sat down to drink my coffee and read the news. One story was about an alligator in Florida attacking a woman. Into my mental music stream jumped old song lyrics, “Gator got your granny. Chomp. Chomp, chomp.”
I had several things wrong with that song. I thought Jim Stafford performed it, but no, it was Tony Joe White. I thought the song’s title was “Folk Salad Annie” but it was “Polk Salad Annie”.
Geez. At least I had the year right, 1969. I decided that “Polk Salad Annie” was my choice for Sunday’s theme music.
Today’s song came about as a choice between it and a Shawn Mendes. A young girl with me was listening to Shawn Mendes’ song, “Stitches”, in my dream, and there were reports that a strange man was lurking outside of our building. In my dream, I assumed that this clumsy device foreshadowed Shawn Mendes showing up. I wasn’t surprised when he did, although the rest of my dream people were all happy and surprised. I don’t know he showed up. It seemed like some sitcom playing in my head.
But the Beatles’ “I Am the Walrus” (1967) replaced the Mendes’ tune. I decided to go with it. I went with the Beatles because Walrus part of the “Magical Mystery Tour”, a very strange movie. I was eleven when this song and album came out, and it left its mark on me. After a night of strange dreams, I felt it apropos for my Saturday theme music.