Sauced In New York Sometimes the food is in the sauce, sometimes we are
Music has that crazy ability to evoke a rich and detailed moment from the past, just like the smell of apple pie might make me think of my mom’s pies fresh out of the oven, with the flakiest, tastiest crust you could ever imagine.
My iPod Nano is loaded with a playlist titled “All time faves”. When most of these songs begin, it only takes the first notes or guitar riff for the memories to come rushing back. If you are going to exercise, it is best to do so with a smile on your face!
My first memory attached to music goes with the Terry Jacks single from 1974, Seasons in the Sun. (Youtube version – click here). This was probably the first 78 record I bought. It marked a passage, from a kid who spent her allowance on candy bars and toys, to the teenager interested in music and clothing. I remember sitting in the kitchen, next to the AM radio, turning up the volume any time this song came on. Actually, I think my sister might have bought the 78, and I probably reverted to the candy bar purchase, but this song signaled a very distinct transition for me.
Next up would be the Doobie Brothers, Black Water. (Click here to listen on Youtube.) Our junior high school English teacher made the mistake of trying to reach out to us at our level, allowing us to bring in music. I think it was something aimed at making us realizing the lyrics were actually poetry. Well Black Water came on, and we sang along with it, and sang along with it, and continued on well past the end of the song, “By the hand, hand, take me by the hand, pretty mama…” I will say that it was Tom C who instigated this playful act of disobedience. “Stop it!” she yelled, “Stop it!”, but we kept on, “Like to hear some funk at Dixie Land, pretty mama come and take me by the hand…” I do believe we were part of the cause of her nervous breakdown later that year.
Just about any song by Lynyrd Skynrd brings me to high school quarry parties where I was not supposed to be, and which I would inevitably pay for with a one-week or two-week grounding. I always got caught, even though I was a creative rebel. I guess at a certain point my parents just knew not to trust my story. Freebird of course was the classic, but it is not the best exercise song I have learned. In contrast, Sweet Home Alabama (click here) makes you want to pick up your pace, as well as raise your arms in the air and sing loudly. Quarry parties – bonfires, keg beer, and invariably a raid by the cops, but there were two ways into the party. If you chose the right one out, you were not accompanied home by the cops.
Rolling Stones, Shattered! (Click here.) This was high school, and in particular, my friend Shari. I think we may have just liked the “shadooby” part – what a great word! As Shari and I blared the song and sang along with Mick, I think Elaine and Lisa just put up with us. Barely. Shattered for me is that foursome of friends, senior year of high school, ditching school to go to Pizza Hut for lunch, the protected bubble of adolescence before we had to move on and decide what to be, what to do, and how to get there.
College memories are tied to completely different types of music: Grateful Dead – we certainly were not exposed to that in Weedsport! Shakedown Street (click here) was the bridge that allowed me into the world of Deadheads. And yes, I did actually go to some shows, but I never went on tour. Soft Cell’s Tainted Love epitomizes my sophomore year in Spain, a song that would come on in the discotecas causing us to rush to the dance floor! (Click here for the somewhat disturbing music video.) Matt S was clearly the dancemaster with this song – Matt S who is now a wildly successful advertising exec in New York. Who knew! (We all knew!) My second study abroad experience in Spain goes with Chiquetete, a Spanish flamenco crooner. (Great shmarmy version of Esta cobardía here.) Suddenly I am in Nina’s apartment on Manuel Silvela. We spent so many hours there, and thankfully Nina never kicked me or Charlie out.
Post-college music memories are tied to my move to Albany. Motown? What? Really? How did I miss that for 22 years? Diana Ross, Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, the Victory Café, softball, dancing on the bar. “Ooooh, oh, oh oh… If you need me, call me…” (Ceasar’s Palace version here.) We were choreographed, we were coiffed, we were young and anything was possible.
Jimmy Buffet was another eye-opener, as was Little Feat. Both of those groups bring me to The Victory, where I waitressed through grad school. Denise was such a talented chef, Annie could make any of us laugh in an instant, and Timmy was actually pretty funny, too, when he wasn’t complaining about NiMo workers blocking his entrance.
There’s more, but I’d rather hear about your songs that bring back memories. What song? What time in your life? What details that accompany the memory?
“Mommy, what’s a 78?”
How could you have left out Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and Comfortably Numb?? Didn’t you crank one of them so you could be surrounded by the music when you were ticked? Not good workout music, but I think of you when I hear them these days.
I had to leave out Pink Floyd, because that memory includes getting into someone’s liquor cabinet… And with that, I take the Fifth.
So funny to hear you talk about Sweet Home Alabama. When I’m in a foul mood, I’ll put on All Summer Long by Kid Rock (references Sweet Home Alabama). It takes me back to senior skip day when I was careful – excepting wondering where my next beer was coming from. Totally freeing… I think that was my Seasons in the Sun 78….
Paul Simon provided the soundtrack of my childhood – solo and as Simon & Garfunkel. And I think every teenage girl (albeit ones raised by hippie mothers who went to Woodstock) goes through a Joni Mitchell phase. Nothing goes with teenage angst like beautiful poetry and Joni’s impossible voice. Tori Amos, Alanis Morisette, Greenday and the Beastie Boys bring me back to high school – as do all the classics from my parents generation (read: the Doors, Emmylou Harris, the Eagles, Crosby, Still, Nash & Young, Neil Young on his glorious own). Juanes, Soda Stereo, Julieta Venegas and Shakira are my musical cue to remember Mexico . . .