One of my more endearing characteristics, I'm sure someone would point out, is my quirky taste in music. I'm a fan of musicals from the 50's and 60's. I can recite the words to "Lydia The Tattooed Lady" or whatever that weird "Shaving Cream" song was that my husband found and recorded for the children eons ago. I like Beethoven, Bernstein and the Beatles. Music surrounds me in the car, sometimes at work and at home. But I don't own an ipod. I guess I'm not sure how the ear buds work with in- the-canal hearing aids and I'm not interested or concerned enough to figure it out.
If I know I'm going to be in the car for at least an hour, I'll figure out what I'm going to listen to at top decibel way before I figure out the route I'll be taking. I got to thinking about my music choices today for an odd reason. I was coming home from an appointment that I had not been looking forward to. The route I had selected was congested, bumper to bumper, cheek to jowl and grumpy, scowling faces behind the wheel the whole way. I had neglected to "select" my listening pleasure because I was preoccupied with the appointment and weary of the whole entire day. So I turned on the radio. I usually don't do that much, as invariably when I turn it on, the cycle has just finished for the 1/2 hour of commercial free music and I'm stuck listening to a 20 minute tirade of ads for everything from the radio station itself to local hardware stores to insurance companies whose Australian spokesperson is much better on the television. But today, amidst the anguish and angst suddenly the Beatles came on. They sang, "Can't Buy Me Love" and "Penny Lane". There were about four songs in rapid succession and you know, I just felt better after that. What's more, I was singing along with the songs before I knew it and saw several people doing the same thing! It was great! Not because it was the Beatles. But because for just a few minutes we weren't all mad at each other, we were enjoying the melody of the days gone by and savoring the harmonies of those four young men. Would I have felt the same if the Beach Boys came on? Maybe, maybe not. But it was grand on the street, swinging along with the Fab Four and about 100 or so of their fans as we crawled along in traffic on a Wednesday afternoon.
4 comments:
This is one of my favorite things about oldies, and also about Big Band swing (especially, y'know, the Carnegie Hall concert). It is almost impossible to be depressed or anxious if you listen them, especially when they've got the right dink-dink-dink rhythm.
Yeah, the sing along factor just makes it so much more soul lightening, you know? Although some of the big band stuff, like there's this song called, "Frenesi" that if it has words I have no idea what they are, but I could just literally bounce to that whenever I hear it.
Sing, Sing, Sing is a little tough to sing along too, too, but remembering to keep from tapping the brakes/clutch/accelerator in time, when I have that CD in, is a challenge. I think that you had a truly unique, almost cinematic moment though, as the dispersion of the music market place has been so vast. Seeing ANYONE else reacting to the same music fits an almost chaos theory-like situation. What are the odds that would happen these days? Okay millions still listen to the radio at the same time in their cars, but does anyone really sing-a-long with Howard Stern, or Rush Limbaugh, or Glen Beck? In the literal sense of course (too many at least "chant" along with that trio). Going to go fetch Gene, Glen and Company on my iTunes to get my day going. Thanks for the wonderfully "up" posting.
Shame on me! Gene, BENNY, and company!
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