Words, and Music to Live By-Part I

Last week I posted my first blog in quite some time. While living for five years in an ashram in India with no internet access, writing a blog on papyrus seemed too much work. Only kidding. While pursuing my doctorate for those five lost years, my creative writing was shelved in lieu of academic writing. Creative writing did not serve as an escape; it would have been an extension of the drudgery of scholarly work. At least that was the excuse my brain came up with. So I’m writing a blog again.
The impetus for writing again as I said, fell on a Facebook friend. She had posted one of those time wasting exercises that fill the mundane void of the day. Her post suggested we list 12 albums that changed or influenced our life. I did so, and mentioned the story I could write about the selection process. She said she’d love to read it. Well, that never happened. Or, it was so bad, she, an editor by trade, didn’t want to hurt my feeling. That wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t have known how many submissions had been rejected to this point. It takes a lot to hurt my feeling where my writing is concerned. Good thing too, based on the amount of people who took the time last week to check in. The infamous attention span ebb has infiltrated every generation . . . Oh look a puppy! . . .what was I saying?
In the interest of the dwindling attention, I’ve shave my blogs down to 1000 words. About the amount of time it takes to take a dump. Ironically, where you probably should read this. This is the first excerpt of that story my Facebook friend wanted to read. I’m betting she still won’t read it.

Words, and Music to Live By

It started as most social media queries do, fun and frivolous. The brain teaser wasn’t complicated. A harmless posting by a friend asked, without wracking my brain or becoming too time consuming, to name twelve albums that changed or influenced my life. The only caveat was artists could be listed only once. “Well, that seems simple enough,” or so I thought.
The person who had originally posted the task had included their list. Needless to say, her list influenced mine. So I guess you could say regardless of my list, the albums on her list still wielded influence in my life. Oh, the paradox of paradigms. Normally, I don’t buy into the various time wasters posted by friends encouraging me to join in on the aimless “fun.” However, the individual whose post begat what you are reading, happens to post many things I find intriguing, thought provoking, humorous, or just in agreement with my world view. I am quite sure she is as surprised as I am as to the things we have in common. This was not the case when we attended the same high school. She was an open-minded, free thinker, non-conformist; though she did conform within her circle of friends. At least that’s how this under-achieving, outgoing, jock, with a penchant for the odd or unusual saw things forty years ago. I’m curious if this fits her long ago obscured assessment of me. Doesn’t matter a shite today huh?
She started her list with Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs, by Derek and The Dominos. Released in November of 1970, any Baby Boomer worth their salt rooted in Rock n’ Roll should include this classic album as one that influenced their life. My vested interest exists on several levels.
I had an almost unhealthy obsession with “oldies,” 45’s from the ‘50s and early ‘60s. I dutifully saved my tips from my Morris County Daily Record delivery route. My sister, whom I loathed, would take me to Lowell’s Music in West Orange as I recollect, so I could get my fix. My sister, 6 ½ years my senior, on the other hand, would listen to Jimi Hendrix, Big Brother and The Holding Company, and Cream. I’d strain to listen through the wall that separated our bedrooms to these groundbreaking artists. So close yet so far.
In order to get a better listening experience, I “borrowed” several of these albums one day to share this heavy stuff with my bubble gum listening friends at school. Unbeknownst to me, my sister had cut school that day. When I tried to stealthily return what I had procured without consent, I found my sister in a compromising position, literally, with a friend of hers from high school. The beating I got was not worth the pleasure I derived from the music. However, I immediately heard the connections between my quickly waning music interests and those selections of my sister’s. Layla was the amalgamation of this period of my musical life. Layla would also head my list.
The second album on my friend’s list was Pearl, a solo effort by Janis Joplin. “That’s perfect,” I said to myself. I had purchased my own copy of Cheap Thrills, by Big Brother and The Holding Company, to avoid any more unpleasant confrontations with my sister. My mother had purchased Pearl for me as a belated Christmas present. The only record any of my parents, step, or birth, had ever bought for me. The symbolism was enough to be included on my list as well . . . except . . . the music from the album didn’t change or influence my life. Choice number two would be replaced . . . later . . . after I gave more thought, and reviewed the rest of my friend’s list to save time.
The instigator’s third album was Todd Rundgren’s work, Something/Anything. Never a fan. Slot three, not two, was replaced with Electric Warrior, by T-Rex. My choice was a chronological one. Again, my heinous sister, oddly played a positive roll. Go figure. She had taken me to my first two concerts; T-Rex, and The Allman Brothers. She wound up taking me by default, when my grandparents, nor a babysitter could watch me. She was none too thrilled to say the least. My sister was unfamiliar with the music of T-Rex. She was duly impressed I knew who they were. We attended this concert with a boyfriend of my sisters who my mother did not approve of, which was pretty much the standard. Electric Warrior, to me, was when my musical tastes had arrived. I was ahead of my sister’s curve. Take that, you bitch. I am now officially cooler than you. “Oh man, I need TV when I got T-Rex.”
Next week Part Two, if you’re into that kind of torture.