Ah, 5150, the album that ignited the Van Halen wars: who is better, David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar?
I didn’t care. 5150 (1986) was a rockin’ album. I listened to it enough that when I hear song from it even in me head, the rest of the album continues in sequence.
Of course, I always mess around with lyrics, and that’s how “Why Can’t This Be Love” entered my mental stream. I was looking for something to eat. While plucking at some melon pieces and thinking about what to have for lunch, I asked myself, “Why can’t this be lunch?”
Some days I wonder and worry about it all. Then comes a day when I decide, screw it; let it roll.
From 1970, The Doors with “Roadhouse Blues”. Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel. The future’s uncertain and the end is always near.
Gonna tell you a story. About a kitty I know. When it comes to loving, she steals the show. Ain’t exactly pretty, ain’t exactly small.
Well, she was small of body, but big of mind, and HUGE of will.
Anyway, back to the theme music. Going with AC/DC. “Whole Lotta Rosie”. 1977. You either know it, or you don’t. That’s how stuff usually works.
You may not know this, but I was born in 1956, so 1977 was part of my extended childhood. Truthfully, my extended childhood will probably end within a few years. I’m holding on, but all good things must end.
Go in for more work in Peckerville today. Wish me luck. Cheers
I don’t work nine to five. I write seven on seven, breaking for some sickness, some holidays. Mostly I write, following the words the muses strew along the paths, trying to connect the story that I glimpse.
Though I don’t work Monday through Friday, the weekend remains the week’s end, and Wednesday remains the middle, the hump that I gotta get over. All psycho, innit? Yeah, a marriage of mental, physical, and emotional energy that started when we were in school in the U.S., and then carried on through employment.
I’m going to get through it with a little Dire Straits, cause I’m doing the “Walk of Life” (1985). It’s a good walking song to stream. “Here comes Johnny singing oldies, goldies, bebob a lula, baby, what I say?”
The video is a fun look back at sports and hairstyles…
Today’s music is owed to a cat. I opened a new can, put it in his bowl, and set it down in front of it. He took a step toward it, bent his head, sniffed it, looked up at me, and meowed.
“Looks fine to me,” I said. “Whatcha see is whatcha get.”
That naturally triggered the 1971 Dramatics’ song, “Whatchat See Is Whatcha Get”.
I gave another cat the rejected food. The other cat wolfed it down and then washed itself. The first cat, Boo, found kibble in the always there kibble bow.
Thinking about the song, I thought that it’s not only effective for telling the cat this is his breakfast choice this morning, but can hold to our politics with Trump. What you see, an ignorant, self-absorbed person and known cheat with a first-graders’ maturity level, and nursery-school knowledge of history and the U.S. Constitution, is what you get. That seems fine with the Trumpettes, but the rest of us are not pleased.
In our world’s tiny niche, this was a significant hit when I was a teenager around 1973.
Jim Croce had been around for a few years and had several hits, like “Operator”, “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown”, and “Time In A Bottle”. Then a black crash killed him, devastating us, his fans, although it was probably harder for his family and friends. It seemed like even as they were still talking about it on the news, he had a new song rising on the charts, “I Got A Name”.
I awoke this morning still streaming several songs heard in my dreams. Among those were “Sisters” from the movie White Christmas, and James Blunt with “Make Me Better”. But “I Got A Name” was sharper and stronger. It’s silly and sentimental, but here it sits as my theme music this morning.
Was walking and streaming to myself (of course, but who else could I be streaming to?), “No more speed, I’m almost there. Gotta keep cool now, gotta take care. Last car to pass, here I gooo. And the line of cars go down real slow, whoa. Radio’s playing that forgotten song. Brenda Lee’s coming on strong. And the newsman sang his theme song.”
Yes, it’s Golden Earring’s 1973 hit, “Radar Love”, at least how I remember it. I was pushing myself to get to nine miles for the day and reflecting on it all. Blueberry pickin’ at 6:30, the writing day at 9:30 (with forlorn results), drinks with a friend at three, then the final walking to reach nine miles. Mixed bag, you know?
The blueberries weren’t as fine and ripe this year. We came home with an ounce over eight pounds, which cost us $18.25. Long drop from those heady days of eighteen pounds for $36.
Meeting with FX was fun. He’s an established actor, most recently seen as a judge in On the Basis of Sex. After talking life and politics for a bit, we shifted to books and writing, and then movies we’d not like to seen remade, like Doctor Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. I also don’t want to see The African Queen remade, Twelve Angry Men, or Bridge On the River Kwai. I don’t think they can touch the Godfather series, but who knows what lurks in the minds of Hollywood producers?
Chicago was a friend’s favorite group when I was a teenager. Sometimes when we hung around at his place, he’d put on one of their tapes. He bought all of their early albums, so I became familiar with their songs. One such song, “Saturday In the Park” came to mind today.
It’s Saturday.
I was in the park, Lithia Park, in fact.
People were talking and smiling, and a man played guitar, singing for us all.
[Chorus] Eh Cumpari, ci vo sunari
Can you dig it (yes, I can)
And I’ve been waiting such a long time
For Saturday
[Verse 2]
Another day in the park
I think it was the Fourth of July
Another day in the park
I think it was the Fourth of July
People talking, really smiling
A man playing guitar
Singing for us all
Happy post Independence Day to any United States citizens reading. We’ve survived another.
Happy Friday to the rest. We’ve survived another Thursday. The typical work week is ending.
Let’s have a little victory song. Just imagine: you’ve scored the winning goal. You aced a test. Graduated. Retired. Finished writing a novel, short story, or poem. Published something.
Here’s a 1972 offering by Gary Glitter to help you celebrate. It’s a bit repetitive but that beat’s helpful for asserting yourself and cheering yourself on.
Today’s song is another that my mind kicked into my mental stream this morning, where it’s been going around like a washer on the rinse cycle. Maybe thoughts about who I am, or my wife, or the cats caused it. Perhaps something in my writing and editing process ignited the song’s entry into my stream. Don’t know.
Michael Seidel, writer 