Category: Listening

This is living

I have set up my stereo set in the living room like my father did. On Saturday mornings Dad would celebrate the beginning of his weekend by cranking up big band music, sometimes before his three boys had crawled out of their beds. Believe it or not, it is a fond memory.

This Saturday morning, while I fiddled on my laptop, I put Artie Shaw on the turntable, specifically The Complete Artie Shaw, Volume IV: 1940-1941, a two-record set from Bluebird Records.

I think my dad was aghast when I confessed one day that I thought Shaw was better than Benny Goodman, whose music I heard on many a Saturday morning growing up. I am no judge of which man was better on the clarinet, but I thought Shaw was more adventurous, as when he incorporated harpsichord on Gramercy Five recordings like “Cross Your Heart,” the first track on this album.

This particular album covers studio sessions in chronological order from September 1940 to March 1941. I found myself once again marveling at the technology that enables me to time-travel and listen in on performances from more than 85 years ago.

The set includes Shaw’s version of “Moonglow,” the song that was playing when Dad proposed to the girl who would become my mother a few years later. I’m pretty sure they were listening to Benny’s take on the song.

It was a very long time before I discovered that “Moonglow” actually has lyrics, as none of the versions I’d ever heard included singers. “It must have been moon glow that led me straight to you … I still hear you saying, ‘Dear one, hold me fast,’ and I start in praying, Dear Lord, please let this last.” That’s an appropriate song for a marriage proposal.

I have no special message to share today, other than life is better with music, Artie Shaw was a remarkable talent, I’m glad I kept my records, and my parents were always a cute couple. That’s probably enough.

Dance at times like this

I am grateful to live in a world where music is readily available at my fingertips. I can’t imagine a world without music — no, wait, yes I can.

A world without music would be a desolate place with no way to express gratitude for being alive adequately, no way to release the joy inside our hearts, no way to come to terms with the needs for which we have no words.

“I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance,” E.E. Cummings said breathtakingly in a poem.

The world is full of voices screaming, “How can you dance at a time like this?” while I am desperately listening and trying to learn how to sing in this darkness.

Nostalgic for psychedelia

Somewhere not far from here is a place where river cruise ships hire tangerine porters with looking glass eyes. Elementary penguins stroll along the deck singing Hari Krishna. When the cruise comes back to port, newspaper taxis appear on the shore, and people climb in the back with their heads in the clouds.

Yes. I came of age in the sixties, but I never partook of the implements of psychedelia. I just loved the imagery of surrealism. (And yes, I know I mixed up the songs and words.)

I loved the band names — Strawberry Alarm Clock, Bubble Puppy, Moby Grape, Electric Prunes, Iron Butterfly, Pink Floyd — and what the heck is a Jefferson Airplane, anyway?

I loved the inventiveness of the wordplay — “I had too much to dream last night,” what a great line! And some of the imagery, surprisingly, makes perfect sense. I just learned today that semolina pilchard is actually a thing.

One of these days I might decide to write a psychedelic novel while sharing time with several species of small furry animals gathered together in a cave and grooving with a pict. It would not have to make sense, except it would have to be true to its own rules, just like a science fiction or fantasy world. That sense of unity is what makes “Revolution 9” a classic of the genre while others are just nonsense.