An Overly Complex Relationship with Music, January 2005

I have an overly complex relationship with music.  I cannot produce, accompany, dance, or even successfully hum along to it.  I will go extended periods without listening to it just to keep from spoiling it.  All because music, once my crutch, still helps to define me.  In the late 1960s I seriously pondered whether I could have a friendship/working relationship with someone who had never heard of Neil Young.    

I have very few first-hand recollections that tie a particular song to youthful romance, fast cars, or Woodstock era fun. I do remember being on the Steel Pier in Atlantic City on a summer evening in 1964 when “The Loco-Motion” by Little Eva was blaring and hundreds of kids were dancing.  Too timid to join them, Roger, Stanley, Phil, and I stood at the edge of the crowd pointing out the prettiest girls and the biggest doofuses, and wittily dissecting the entire scene.  We dared each other to pick a partner.  We offered each other large enticements and then we heaped scorn and ridicule upon any of us who made even a tentative attempt to leave the nest.  The dancers on that balmy summer evening at the Jersey shore probably do not even know that Little Eva was a babysitter employed by Gerry Goffin and Carole King, and that it may have been King herself singing the back-up “Come on baby”. 

Cast as an archivist, I am content to collect and categorize the musical memories of someone else’s life.  Moving to compact disc from my cumbersome and voluminous album collection was a gradual and somewhat painful transition, but when the talk shifted to MP3 I was reluctant to leave my rut/groove (pun intended).  Over the Holidays I somehow acquired an iPod.  With the zeal of a convert I have adopted the format by which 21^st Century technology delivers the sounds of the 1960s.  There is even an I-tunes site where celebrities (everyone from Michael Moore to Snoop Dog) list the songs they carry on their personal playlist

As I write this, I have downloaded 2,500 songs from my CD collection, and I still have 30 Gigabytes left of the 40 Gig capacity.  (I cannot believe I wrote and partially understand that last sentence.) Going through all of my music has me thinking which songs would go on my favorites/greatest hits list. 

One quick ground rule:  I will resist mightily the temptation to include obscure bluesmen like Mance Lipscomb, Big Band leader Bix Biederbecke, or torch singers like Anita O’Day.  That would be me clumsily attempting to impress, and would not accurately reflect what I really listen to. 

The songs are in no particular order, identifying them has been hard enough.  Many Beatles and early Dylan songs are so classic I rarely play them. Here is what will be on my personal iPod playlist when I figure out how to work that feature.  It is an eclectic but  decidedly middlebrow mix.  

So what songs would you pick? 

You Are Too Beautiful   Johnny Hartman and John Coltrane do a masterful job with this sweet and timeless ballad--dare I say, even better than Sinatra.

Benny and the Jets   Elton John has grown on me.  I also like Philadelphia Freedom, and Tiny Dancer.

Crying and I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry --Hank Williams does both of these with such raw emotion.  Throw in When A Man Loves A Woman by Percy Sledge and Whiter Shade of Pale performed by Procol Harum and all the Prozac in the house won’t save you.

At Last is a classic song with two great renditions.  One is a duet by Lou Rawls and Dianna Reeves and the other by a favorite of mine, Little Jimmy Scott.

Layla and Tears In Heaven are two of Eric Clapton’s finest.

Georgia On My Mind Ray Charles’ song fits well with Rainy Night In Georgia by Brook Benton.

Running On Empty Great Jackson Browne song

Staying Alive Bee Gees’ hit, with or without Travolta, still charms me.

It’s Only Rock and Roll   Still my favorite Stones song.

Dancing In the Dark   Put this with Born In The USA and Springsteen can run without Kerry next time.

Long Ago and Far Away   Charlie Watts the Rolling Stones drummer was into American standards before Rod Stewart and he gives this song a classy feel.

Take Me Home   This haunting Phil Collins’ song seems to go on forever as both critics and fans agree.

La La Means I Love You   Poignant and gut-wrenching, this Delfonics lament stays with me although I have not been on a date since Nixon’s first term.

No Woman No Cry   If I could dance it would be to Bob Marley.

Come Go With Me   Great do wop.  The Del-Vikings original is far superior to the Beach Boys.

Desperado   Elaine Bennis would not choose this one, but the Eagles and Linda Ronstadt both do wonderful versions.

River   By Bill Stains the New England folkie who frequently appears in the Twin Cities is one I sing along to when I am alone.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps   From the Beatles white album. McCartney’s Jet, Harrison’s My Sweet Lord and Lennon’s Imagine are individual bests in my book.

Blood On The Tracks   A cop out.  While Idiot Wind is a favorite, I have to take the whole Dylan album.  Nothing he has done before or since compares.

The Thrill Is Gone   B.B. is the King of the Blues even if he lives in Vegas in a mansion with a guitar shaped pool, he has paid his dues.

Graceland and America’s Tune are my favorite Paul Simon works.

Wooden Ships  CSNY.  Neil Young’s Cowgirl In The Sand is classic. 

More Than A Feeling   A guilty pleasure, this Boston song fell from 38 to 500 in the Rolling Stone greatest song survey.  I am a sucker for falsetto and with more space would list Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

Tom H. Cook is open to spirited debate.  His wife wants to know how he could have left out Frankie Lyman singing  “Why Do Fools Fall in Love”.