The other day I put my vinyl copy of Uncle Charlie and His Dog Teddy on the turntable and relived the day in 1970 that the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band started to become my favorite band of all time. I had been a fan of NGDB since their very first single, “Buy for Me the Rain,” a few years earlier, but I thought their albums were a little uneven. It was obvious from the opening chords of “Some of Shelley’s Blues” that they had found their identity, and what a fine identity it is.
That 55-year-old album, which has been in my possession since that fateful morning, is a testament to how wonderful a medium for preserving music that vinyl is, if you take proper care of it. After Uncle Charlie I listened to Cosmo’s Factory by Creedence Clearwater Revival, also released in 1970 and also one of my favorite albums.
I wonder what makes us gravitate towards particular kinds of music. What resonates in my soul when I hear “Mr. Bojangles” or “Ramble Tamble” but not other well-known popular music and musicians of the time? Why do I love the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band but I can take the Eagles or leave them? Why CCR and not so much Cream? Why Vanilla Fudge but not Jefferson Airplane?
I suppose we live our lives in infinite combinations, and those are the preferences that emerge out of my particular set of experiences. Other people — in some cases most people — have other preferences, and that adds to the richness of life. The musicians reach out with their various kinds of artistry, and something in each of us responds in various ways.
No one responds in exactly the same way because each of us is unique. There’s literally something for everybody.
