Music Sooths the Soul

I was once asked if you had to choose which one you could live without, your sight or your hearing, what would you choose? I would have to grudgingly say my sight and I say grudgingly because without music I don't think the world would be as bright for me. But at least I wouldn't be bumping into more walls than usual.

I don't remember not listening to music. My sister was 10 years older than me so I cut my teeth on the Beatles, Rolling Stones and other giants of the 60s. My mother was of the big band era so I was also exposed to Glenn Miller and others. And, because of Bugs Bunny and Ed Sullivan I was exposed to Vivaldi, Pacini and other opera composers. I may accidentally sing Kill the Wabbit while listening to the Ride of the Valkyries, but at least I know it's Wagner! I went to sleep with the radio on, it was a constant in my life.

In my day you didn't have stereos in your room, or headphones, you were stuck listening to what your parents listened to at home and in the car. I didn't get a stereo in my room until senior year. You waited until the parents were out and then you blasted the house with your rock music until you saw the car in the driveway. Even when I had a stereo I had to listen with headphones because of that "eternal racket" as my father would say.

Oh but do I remember listening to stereo records on my headphones to classics like Dark Side of the Moon and Procol Harem's Live album. The first time the alarm when off in DSOTM I almost jumped out of my skin...wasn't expecting it. And the scream in Pink Floyd's Careful with that Axe, Eugene on the Ummagumma album. Another skin jumper.

Then there was the funnier times. I bought the National Lampoon's Lemmings album after hearing it at a friend's house. I was listening to it without the headphone because the family was downstairs. I had forgotten about the part where the MC screams, "We're in the NY Times, the "fucking" NY Times!" Of course that was right when my stepmum came up the stairs.

Speaking of Lemmings. So many times music has been the touchstone of my life. Listening the Lemmings in David Noel's basement with Nancy McKay. I wanted to go out and buy that album when I heard David had died. And pretending to like the Ohio Players because a guy I liked listened to them. I still remember the songs but not the guy. Listening to Peter Frampton when I was living in Toronto the summer of '77. Rushing home on a Saturday night to see Queen on the Midnight Special. And the Midnight Special, the most amazing show on TV.

All the concerts I can remember, and some that I can't remember. They were all wonderful times. Queen, Supertramp, Boston, Alice Cooper, Stevie Wonder, Styx, The Knack, the list goes on and on of wonderful concerts.

For me life would be dull without music.

Screaming Secret Writer

I have tried over the years to write a blog but I’ve been unsuccessful and it bugs me. See, inside of me is a writer screaming all these ideas, but unfortunately the screaming only happens in the car while I’m driving. Then what happens when I get home? Blankness, pure blankness. For the life of me, I cannot remember one witty line, and I know they were witty because I was cracking up in the car. I was brilliant and clever, and full of insightful knowledge. When I get home, all I can think about is “is there pudding in the fridge?” Most times I guess I’m so glad to be in the door, my sanctuary from the mean outside world that I think my brain just dumps. So right now, I really have nothing to say. Nothing about politics, my animals, work, my family…nothing…nadda…zilch. I guess I’ll go to bed. But I will guarantee in the morning I’m going to be absolutely fabulous—until I get to work and sit in front of my computer.