Atlanta Rhythm Section (ARS) was the maiden 8-track I launched on the cutting edge Sony system my parents gave me, Christmas, 1970.
Bright red case before the grey Bad Company albums and I was well on my way to becoming the ten-year-old DJ I longed to be when I would stay up late on New Year’s Eve and write down the top 100, song and artist, no holes. Creedence Clearwater revival helped me understand anachronism, even though I couldn’t fully appreciate the message of “Have You Ever Seen the Rain,” I knew only that I liked it, liked the grit and persuasive scratch in Fogerty’s voice.
ELO was the synthesizer, Eagles, Harmony.
Funny how the refrains of these songs serve as vessels for time travel.
Gap Band, George Benson, in three notes, no matter the board meeting or soccer match, I could find that dance floor, proud to swing hustle before I was even old enough to drink.
How do you get a Jersey girl to change a light bulb? It’s not hard. Just turn on a radio and hand her a beer.
Cathy Schrimpe, my childhood best friend, thought the words to “Do the Hustle,” were “Chew the Hot Dog.” Light years later I still laugh at her signing those lyrics while we strutted and twirled, Miller’s in hand.
Memories are like that. Not coming back as thoughts off the mind’s conveyor belt, rather a longer story on the strings of Jeff Beck’s guitar, or the reason you once had that best laugh of your life. Only the second and fiftieth times around, you are better prepared for the surprise of them, the always perfect surprise.
Perfect surprise how you are twenty two and it’s graduation day, and you and Neil Young are all “Comes a Time” in the front seat of the Mustang, when you don’t yet know you will marry the wrong guy and work in that job that pays the bills and how you will have a kid who thinks you are a goddess when she’s 9 and a total idiot by the time she’s as old as you were when you first heard the chords and the freedom in that tape deck your boyfriend Kenny so carefully installed.
Passages.
Quite a few years ago I was asked to describe how music impacted my life. Rather than attempt to respond to the question with any premeditated thought, I used songs and bands to do the talking for me, the answers came as easily as gold records for Rumors and Thriller.
Talking Heads were college classmates. What is this beautiful house? Where is my beautiful wife? U2, their own religion. Van Morrison still gives me crazy love every day I drive the Dulles Toll Road to my office.
Xine Cervenka, why yes, I was in the front row at Lollapalooza, didn’t you see me, I had the sonic blue pre-washed tee shirt.
Zepplin’s Stairway to Heaven syncs on my iPod and I am out buying that prom dress again, only this time with enough experience to take the date with the guy who danced.
