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.
Today’s choice arrived in the stream because of a chance encounter with a friend.
I’m retired military, 1974 – 1995. He was in the Army for almost five years. Most of that time was in Vietnam. May, 1969, was his one year anniversary of being in country. It was a bloody year for him. He lost many friends. He was also nineteen.
We guessed that it was just a juxtaposition of insights that brought about the darkness dragging him down this weekend. This is twenty nineteen, which kicked off the memory of being nineteen, when he was in Vietnam fifty years ago. It’s probably because of Memorial Day, and the many men walking around with Vietnam Vet hats on their heads, and the television shows talking about different military campaigns. It could be his sense of mortality. He’s getting older, as he reminded me.
He never cried when he spoke but he did a lot of sniffing, some quick eye wipes, and sometimes coped with a trembling voice with some deep breaths. Vietnam offered some hairy days, and he was grateful to have survived without too much damage, get home, go to college under the GI Bill, marry, and have a family.
After we shook hands and went our separate ways, and I was walking under the lush green trees, past beautiful beds of colorful flowers as cars rolled by and people pursued their celebrations of Memorial Day, I started streaming an old favorite song.
Here, from nineteen seventy-four, is William DeVaughn with “Be Thankful for What You Got”.
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.
Reading about Sen. Mitch McConnell’s obstructions, and a then a murderer, I thought about monsters in the world. Edgar Winter Group’s “Frankenstein” (1972) jumped into my thinking stream, and here we are.
My rocking stream was turbulent this morning. Portugal! the Man kicked it off. Then I bounced into Train and GnR to Springsteen. Run DMC’s cover of Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way” came up, which led to Aerosmith’s cover of the Beatle’s “Come Together”. From there, I bounced into Aerosmith’s “Toys in the Attic” and then the Beatles’ “Paperback Writer”. Next, though, Marshall Tucker invaded, followed by CBD, which took me to Lynerd Skynerd.
A cat provoked the last. Tucker, the black and white feline enigma for which little outside his fur seems black and white, followed me around as I prepared to depart the fix. At one point, he got underfoot, and I chided him, “Won’t you give me three steps?”
That’s how I got her. Here’s “Gimme Three Steps” from 1973.
Sorry, today’s song is a downer. Reading about recent White House statements, trends in different states, and education in America, my mind began streaming Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall” (1979).
We don’t need no education. We just need walls. Walls will save us all.
Today’s choice is a walking song. Rain hammered everything as I strode along. Into this streamed George Ezra’s song, “Shotgun” (2018). “Shotgun”‘s beat is conducive to keeping a good energetic song, and I enjoy his voice, especially in the chorus when he sings, “I’ll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun feeling like a someone.” As always, I feel a need to mention that I’m always surprised when I see Ezra because his voice makes me imagine he looks differently.
Good song to help you feel amused, and feel like someone. Hope you enjoy it.
Michael Seidel, writer 