I never met Davy Jones. Never even saw him perform in concert for that matter. And yet somehow I still felt a sense of loss when word of his death reached me yesterday.
Quite frankly, before The Monkees I used to think that Davy Jones was just the guy who owned the locker everyone from Popeye to Captain Jack Sparrow talked about. Little did I know he could sing, dance and act with the best of them.
I still remember watching his antics on the show and longed to be like him. The guy with the good looks and boyish charm who could sing anything and woo any woman. Someone who was immortal to me. Until yesterday.
But rather than just post a blurb remembering the show, his records and just saying “goodbye” I’d rather write about Davy from a bit of a different angle. Specifically, from his role as himself on the Brady Bunch forty years ago.
When I first saw the episode with Davy and Marsha Brady it really struck a nerve. In the episode, Marsha had promised her friends that she would get Davy Jones to sing at her prom. She eventually tracks him down to the recording studio and actually manages to get inside and watch him record.
Girl. Look What You’ve Done To Me. Me, And My Whole World.
As the producer begins scolding her Marsha makes her plea that Davy had promised her he would perform if ever he was in town. Davy, who over hears the conversation, later shows up at Marsha’s house and promises to perform at her prom. He even goes so far as asking her to be his date and gets a kiss for his efforts. And what boy wouldn’t want a kiss from Marsha Brady?
Although fictitious, the storyline of celebrities helping “normal” folks still resonates even today.
Just recently a young man who has been suffering from leukemia asked country music star Taylor Swift to be his date for the prom. Swift was unable to make the date so instead asked him to accompany her to the Academy of Country Music Awards.
We could sure use more people using their celebrity status for noble causes. The world would be a much better place.
I believe Davy Jones was much more than just a singer, a locker or a Monkee. In an odd sort of way I think he may also have been a trendsetter as well.
It was a half-dozen or so summers ago when I first met Julie Roberts. It was at a country music show in Reinholds, Pennsylvania and she was in the middle of a whirlwind tour supporting her self-titled debut album on Mercury Records.
Julie was riding high on the success of her mammoth hit “Break Down Here” when she pulled into the little Pennsylvania fair and I was fortunate enough to be part of the local band that performed as her opening act that night.
On this night, I had the opportunity to meet Julie backstage prior to showtime and exchange the usual pleasantries opening acts typically do with the headliner. You know, signing memorabilia, taking pictures and that sort of thing.
Already a huge fan of her music I remember that when our set was over I was standing alone backstage and watched as Julie was introduced and walked out onto the stage. A surreal moment for me to say the least.
The thing I’ve always loved most about Julie is her soulful voice. She sings with such emotion that its hard not to fall in love with it. It’s infectious. When she closes her eyes and starts to sing you don’t just hear the words but rather, you “feel” them.
After the show, I remember seeing Julie and her Mama manning the merchandise booth and meeting anyone and everyone who came up. It didn’t matter how long it took, she was going to stay and greet everyone who came to see her. And I always wished more artists would have that personal connection with their fans.
The years following that little Pennsylvania show weren’t easy for Julie. Although she would release a critically acclaimed follow-up record, “Men and Mascara” she soon found herself sidelined when she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
To make matters worse, she was also released from her record contract with Mercury, Nashville and became a victim of the Nashville flooding that occurred in May of 2010.
But even in the face of all of this adversity she never lost faith. Julie still managed to do something that most other artists in her position wouldn’t have…. she pushed on. And the result of which is a record she can honestly call her own.
You make me feel so Alive.
Alive is the third album from Julie Roberts and has to be her most personal. Not only is Julie the artist and one of the principal songwriters on this record but she has also taken on the responsibility of many other aspects of the record as well including CD creation, marketing and distribution.
From the cover design on the CD right down to the little UPC labels that adorn them, she’s had her hand in everything. And where as most other bands and artists have the luxury of a record company for promotion and distribution, Julie personally fills all orders for her independently released album and mails them out.
Whether it’s the jazziness of “Let’s Fight“, the beautiful piano in “Carolina From My Soul” or the good time of “NASCAR Party” this record showcases everything I love about Julie and really delivers the goods. Country, Blues, Jazz – it’s all here.
Alive is filled with the same soulful voice that I loved way back in Reinholds. One listen to “Whiskey and You” is all you need to feel that same connection.
That’s the difference between whiskey and you.
Julie Roberts is the epitome of what a true artist should be. She loves her faith, her family and her fans. She’s involved in every aspect of her music. From songwriting to recording to taking autographed CDs to the post office. She does it all. Not to mention the fact that she has a certified gold record in her arsenal and has also performed on some of the biggest stages in country music.
She’s back! She’s Alive – and I couldn’t be happier.
I’ve got some final words to say about this years Grammy Awards. Truth be told, I haven’t had much interest in watching them anymore.
Now you would think that as a musician The Grammy Awards would be something always on my agenda of things to watch. To see the best of the best get their due. But sadly, the ceremony, much like the AMA’s, CMA’s and any other “MA’s” I may have missed, seems to have become nothing more than just a lackluster showcase for the music industry to pat itself on the back instead of awarding real talent.
Don’t get me wrong, this year Adele easily deserved to sweep everything. She is a true diamond in a sea of the same old same. But outside of her obvious and most deserving win, every year the awards seems to turn more and more into something that can’t be taken seriously.
Consider the way Chris Brown was graciously accepted back onto the stage again and won a pair of awards after his most recent shenanigans. Or the way Dave Grohl of The Foo Fighters was blatantly cut off during his acceptance speech when he started telling the truth about how music should come from the heart and not a computer. And lets not forget the fact that a group of “old men” (The Beach Boys) schooled everyone who hit the stage before them with true vocal harmony.
But I’d really like to focus the meat of this blog on the list of artists from the “Rock Performance” and “Metal” categories. Because, you know me, it’s all about the Rock and Metal.
First, here’s a list of winners from thirty years ago:
Record of the Year: Rosanna: Toto Album of the Year: Toto IV Song of the Year: Always on My Mind: Willie Nelson Best New Artist: Men at Work Best Rock Vocal Performance, Female: Pat Benatar-“Shadows of the Night ” Best Rock Vocal Performance, Male: John Cougar Mellencamp -“Hurts So Good” Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocal: Survivor-“Eye of the Tiger”
Best Rock Instrumental Performance: A Flock of Seagulls – “D.N.A.”
And now, here is a list of Grammy winners for 2012:
Record of the Year: “Rolling in the Deep,” Adele Album of the Year: “21,” Adele Song of the Year: “Rolling in the Deep,” Adele Adkins & Paul Epworth New Artist: Bon Iver Pop Solo Performance: “Someone Like You,” Adele Rock Song: “Walk,” Foo Fighters Rock Album: “Wasting Light,” Foo Fighters Rock Performance: “Walk,” Foo Fighters Hard Rock/Metal Performance: “White Limo,” Foo Fighters
Look at the variety of artists from three decades ago. All with hit songs and all deserving. Where is that variety today?
Please don’t misunderstand me, I love the Foo Fighters. Really, I do. But three different songs winning Grammy awards? And one Grammy for Best “Metal” performance? The Foo Fighters aren’t “Metal”.
It really upsets me that there seems to be a lack of true nominees in these categories whether by accident or deliberate intention. Every time you see the list of nominations you pretty much know who is going to win. And why is it that groups you’ve never heard of always seem to get a nod and bands that have Grammy history and new albums get ignored?
Consider artists like Journey, Foreigner and Night Ranger for example. Ok, I agree that it’s been years since any of them had songs that topped the charts. But all of these bands have released albums of brand new music, most of it very good and all within the time frame of nomination, but their body of work wasn’t even acknowledged by the academy.
Now I’m not saying any of these artists should win. Hardly. All I’m saying is that wouldn’t it be nice to at least recognize the efforts of bands that have stood the test of time and continue to deliver music for their fans? But instead, true musicianship gets over shadowed by the need for computer generated beats and auto-tuned vocal performances.
I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised though. I mean lets face it, this is the same awards show that gave the very first Grammy in the Hard Rock/Metal category to Jethro Tull instead of Metallica.
And don’t get me started on that whole Milli Vanilli incident.
A few weeks ago I was perusing iTunes looking for songs to buy on a gift card I received. I chose a few Foo Fighters songs from their most recent album (I didn’t really care for the previews I had heard of the whole thing) and the Bon Jovi anthem “It’s My Life”. I’m not even sure which record that track was on. My guess is it’s probably on several of them but I just wanted the song for when I do cardio at the gym so it didn’t really matter.
I mean, you can’t play Eye of The Tiger consecutively for thirty minutes straight while on the treadmill. Well, I suppose you can but I like to mix it up a bit.
Speaking of Bon Jovi, I read an article not too long ago from Jon Bon Jovi himself. He made the outrageous claim that Steve Jobs and iTunes had single-handedly ruined the music business. This coming from a guy whose band has made millions of dollars off of it. Including quite a bit of it from me over the years I might add and more than enough money for him to one day become part owner of a billion dollar NFL team. A guy who still continues to sell his music on iTunes and profit off of it. Just who is he trying to kid anyway?
But the more I thought about it and looked at the receipt for my downloaded songs the more I realized….he’s right. The entire “experience” of getting and listening to new music is gone.
Back in “the day” if you heard a cool song on the radio from a band you loved you had three choices…
One: Call the radio station 24/7 and beg them to play it.
Two: Try and find the 45″ single of it somewhere.
Three: Buy the album, which was always readily available.
In my case, the choice was easy. I would always buy the album because I LOVED the experience (ok, and also because I didn’t want to sound like a sissy calling the request line).
When you first heard the new “hit” from the band on the radio and the brouhaha that followed you knew the countdown to the new album was officially on. It was almost like Christmas was coming.
There was nothing quite like getting that new album (or CD) and taking it home for the first time. Especially if you’ve waited the habitual two years since your favorite group’s last record. A literal lifetime when you are growing up.
My ritual was this: I would get the album, lock myself in my bedroom, tear open the shrink-wrap and put new vinyl on the turntable. Always first song, first side (or first track on a CD – I’m not THAT OLD). I knew the “hit” was always about the third song in and I didn’t want to just skip to it. I wanted the build up.
As the first notes of the record started I knew ‘the boys were back’ and I’d begin to immerse myself in the liner notes. The smell of new ink would invade my senses and the troubles of the day would soon fade away.
Even though the guys in the band had absolutely no idea who I was (at best just a little dot in the 23rd row at their last concert) it felt like a reunion with old friends. Friends that had inspired me, comforted me and consoled me with their music.
“Boys, where have you been? What’s new?”
I’d read all about the musicians and where the album was recorded and who any “special guest” musicians that had played on the album were. The thank-you notes would always include references to God and family and as a musician myself I’d always think that maybe some day I’d have the opportunity to make these same decisions for my own album.
But most important of all, I read the lyrics.
I loved reading about the pain, heartache and reckless abandon the band felt when creating this record. I tried to relate what I was going through in my own life with what I read and listened to. By the time the “hit” started playing I was already in some distant utopia. (which coincidentally, was the name of the store in downtown Easton where I bought a lot of my records).
When the record was over it was almost like you had just gotten off an amusement park ride. Sure, some of the songs weren’t as good as I had hoped but there were always some gems on there. I liked to guess which song would be the next one released to radio and I’d start wondering just how long it would be before these guys came to town and I could go see them again. The whole thing was indeed an experience.
Now, I couldn’t even tell you the last time I had the whole music experience. I too find myself falling into the same routine that everyone else does. Getting the quick-fix by downloading the one “hit” song. Quite frankly, I even believe most artists these days are perfectly happy with just getting the 99 cents for that one song and ignoring the “album”. But taking Jon’s advice, I decided to pass the digital quick fix and try the album experience again. I chose to buy a physical album from a favorite band whose records spent many months on my turn table growing up and one who coincidentally had just released a brand new album: Night Ranger’s “Somewhere in California”.
I sat there in my office, put the CD into the computer, fired up the media player and started playback on the first track. It was so easy to fall back into the groove, read the liner notes and get lost in thought. And although there were some really great songs on there I know that in today’s music business not a single track on this album will ever get airplay. But the experience of listening to an album from start to finish was as wonderful as I had remembered it to be.
So Mr. Bon Jovi was right in a way. I guess iTunes has changed the game. And sure, I’ll probably take the Night Ranger album and throw it on my mp3 player to take with me. Will I listen to it day and night? Probably not. But favorite songs aren’t meant to be just some digital file on an iPod.
They’re meant to stay with you for a lifetime.
Extra: Be sure to check out my other Night Ranger blog article here
Even if you’ve never played guitar before you will cringe when you hear the tale I’m about to tell. It’s something you might read right out of a Steven King novel. I’m warning you now that it’s not for the weak of heart.
I started playing guitar in the early 1980’s and struggled for years learning chord progressions and scales. Having to learn how to play on a cheap imitation Fender Stratocaster wasn’t of much help either. If you’re a guitar player you know what I’m talking about. The better the guitar, the easier it is to learn on. And although I played with what my parents could afford to get me, I still dreamed of one day getting a Gibson Les Paul. The guitar that players like Jimmy Page from Led Zeppelin and Ace Frehley from Kiss played. A guitar that at the time I wasn’t worthy enough to play or financially responsible to own.
Someday.
My hard work eventually started paying off. By paying my dues as a working musician over the next few years I was able to purchase a used Gibson Explorer and genuine Fender Stratocaster. But the elusive Les Paul was always slightly out of my reach.
Fast forward now to 2004 and the local band I was in is at the top of our game. We had just successfully completed a long string of summer shows including one as the opening act for American Idol runner-up Clay Aiken.
Now, before you laugh consider this: Clay was almost God-Like at this time. His first album debuted at number one on the Billboard 200 and was, with 613,000 copies sold in its first week, the highest-selling debut for a solo artist in over ten years and an album that was eventually certified multi-platinum.
To help celebrate my hard work and musical devotion I FINALLY purchased my Les Paul just in time for the Clay gig. Much like being a car enthusiast who for years has driven nothing but clunkers until eventually getting their dream car, getting the Les Paul and the chance to play it at the ultimate show in front of 6,000 fans was a dream come true.
Needless to say, the euphoria of this combination of events had me feeling pretty good when the band rolled into the Franklin Township Fair a few weeks later.
The Franklin Township Fair is an annual event held in the wide-open boon docks of Northern Pennsylvania. With sponsorships from a variety of local businesses all supporting the volunteer fire company, the event raises a lot of money to help continue to fight the good fight.
I spent the early portion of the day setting up my gear on the big concrete stage we would be performing on. I had my polished Les Paul, strung with new strings, all tuned and ready to go and gently placed it on the guitar stand.
To make this day even more special, I had just finished recording a brand new song I had written and this was the perfect opportunity to listen to it on the big PA system for the first time. I placed the CD into the drive and pressed play. I then jumped off the stage and made my way out onto the midway.
I was able to completely ignore the smell of funnel cake and the sound of spinning wheels as people tried to match numbers and win gigantic stuffed animals. I just stood there and let the perfect balance of music seep into my soul. Not just any music mind you. This was my music and nothing beats the first time you hear the final mix of a song that you wrote.
Paging Steven King.
As I’m listening to the sound of guitar and lyric in blissful perfection another sound begins to fill my ears. It’s the sound of an approaching helicopter. You see, one of the “benefits” fair goers get to see as part of the festivities is a demonstration of a Med-Evac helicopter landing.
People nearby begin to get excited and cheer as the copter slowly descends and lands onto a small clearing next to the fairgrounds. I myself begin to get a little worried when the breeze coming off of the still spinning helicopter blades continues to pick up. I know the copter has already landed safely but the high wind on my face is definitely a cause for concern.
It’s at this point that everything turns into slow motion.
My attention is quickly drawn back to front and I now see set lists and cables blowing around on the concrete stage. A stage I am standing at least fifty or sixty yards away from. My heart goes into my throat as I now fear the worst. And sure enough, the worst happens.
My beloved Les Paul, the one I had spent twenty years of my life trying to obtain, the one that is now sitting on a guitar stand in what feels like a mile away begins to teeter and totter in the wind. There is nothing I can do as I watch it fall forward and land face down on the concrete stage.
I run as fast as I can to assess the damage. The guitar now has a two-inch crack near the head stock. And the nut, or portion where the strings attach near the tuning pegs, is broken off right where the sixth string passes making that string completely useless.
So here I am, pissed off beyond belief that my beloved guitar, and the only guitar I brought to the gig, has suffered damage and also knowing that I still had to perform for ninety minutes. How I was able to hold it together remains a mystery. The show must go on I suppose.
Not surprisingly, even with the damage sustained I was still able to play the guitar (minus the sixth string) for the entire show and it not once went out of tune. After all, it’s a Les Paul.
Insurance was able to cover the damages and to this day my beloved Les Paul is still rocking. Only now, it has its own identity.
I remember being a teenager and going to my first dance. It was one of those events where I wanted everything to be perfect. My brother, who was a few years older than me, had his own room and a bottle of cologne that he had bought with his own hard-earned money sitting in his dresser drawer.
Even though I had already showered, I still remember wanting to make a big impression with the “ladies” that night. I certainly didn’t want to take the chance of coming across smelling like teenage sweat and gasoline from mowing the lawn earlier in the day.
My brother was away so I secretly crept into his room, donned some of the essence of manhood, resealed the bottle and was on my way. “He’s got so much of it, he won’t mind if I use it”, I said to myself.
Of course, when I came home from the dance and my brother smelled the remnants of his cologne on me well, needless to say my arm hurt for weeks from the punches I had received.
My point is: there are consequences for doing things without permission.
The same can be said for politicians who decide to use artists songs without permission for rallying cries and campaign themes. As was evident most recently when Newt Gingrich decided to use the song “Eye of The Tiger” by the band Survivor as the entrance theme for his political events. An author himself, and probably more knowledgeable in the area of copyright laws than the average person, Newt should have known better.
Consider this: What if someone were to raise money for their own cause at some conference by reading verbatim one of Newt’s books? If large amounts of cash started pouring in, how long would it be before Mr. Gingrich would send a registered letter with a cease and desist order attached to it?
We’ve seen this before. In 2011 Congresswoman Michele Bachman tried to use Tom Petty’s “American Girl” without permission. In 2008 then republican presidential candidate John McCain tried to use the song “Running on Empty” by Jackson Browne without permission.
Even as far back as 1984 President Reagan attempted to use the Bruce Springsteen anthem “Born in The USA” as part of his re-election campaign . In each case the candidate was eventually, and sometimes embarrassingly denied.
But unauthorized use of songs isn’t just restricted to republicans. in 2008, then candidate Barack Obama started using the song “Hold On! I’m Comin'” made famous by R&B group Sam and Dave. That is of course until Sam Moore, the songwriter, requested he stop using it.
All of these are good songs and ones that would be a no brainer for use at rallies and campaign events. But the people using them all forgot to seek permission to use them first.
Now some may think to the contrary but I personally don’t believe songwriters choosing to sue or have cease and desist orders sent out are based on personal politics. What most people don’t understand is that songwriters put their heart and soul into their material.
Songs aren’t just something you create like a paper airplane. The words and music contained in songs are the thoughts, pains and struggles of the writer. They’re actually living, breathing works of art and as such, it’s the writers duty to protect their copyright. As a songwriter myself, I can relate to this.
But whether or not a songwriter chooses to allow a political candidate, or anyone for that matter, to use their material is irrelevant. Maybe they will let you use it and maybe they won’t. But to avoid consequence, much like the lesson I learned using my brothers cologne, you should always remember to do one thing:
A few days ago a friend of mine asked me to go online and check out a new CD the band he was in had just released. I quickly pointed my web browser to the CD Baby website to give a listen to a buddy whose cover band has been tearing up the local watering holes around town for years. Finally getting to hear his own original music was really going to be a treat.
CD Baby is a gold mine for independent artists. A website most local and regional bands use to promote their new music. It’s a great way for unknowns to get the word out to people who may not even know who they are.
But I never would have guessed that the CD Baby platform would ever be used in the opposite way.
Case in point: While listening to my boy’s uptempo bar songs I happened upon a CD listing for a band whose name sounded familiar to me. The album for sale was called “Replay” and the band was “The Outfield”.
“The Outfield?? It couldn’t be”, I said to myself. But by checking the band description it didn’t take long to realize that yes, this “Outfield” was the exact same Outfield who had been all over radio and MTV and sold five million records thirty-two years ago. Riding a stream of hits including “Say It Isn’t So”, “For You” and “Your Love” (a song which ironically has been in the set list of my buddy’s band for years). What the hell were these guys doing on CD Baby?
I gave a listen to some of the preview tracks just to verify that this was the band whose catchy hooks were a staple of the mid 1980’s. The new songs I heard were actually quite good. Just as good if not better than some of the ones I had heard from them during the Reagan administration. Music that brought back memories of blaring boom boxes, feathered hair and childhood summers. Music that, in my opinion, should now still be played on Top-40 radio and what ever the alternative is for MTV.
Sadly, there was no point in me picking up the phone and calling the local radio station to request California Sun, a track from the new record. Although it would personally be cool to request “The Outfield” again what were the odds that the DJ on the other end of the line would even know who this band was?
Now, had I said Bruno Mars, Katy Perry or Taylor Swift it would be a different story. There is a plethora of songs to choose from there. “Music” that saturates radio today. Song by artists that quite honestly are completely interchangeable with each other. All manufactured with the same chords, the same beat and the same theme. The only difference being the actual lyrics of the song and even most of those are cliché’.
I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of hearing about skies full of lighters, a drunk party or crying out in the yard at two in the morning because my boyfriend broke up with me. They only make me long more for the days of Josie being on a vacation far away.
Music isn’t created anymore, its manufactured on an assembly line. The songwriters are gathered together with ideas already in place by the suits at the record company and the music is programmed in a high-tech studio in some big city. It makes me wonder how many actual musicians are playing their instruments on these tracks. Finally, it’s all put together, packaged and backed by a gigantic marketing team with deals already in place with major suppliers.
The days of the public deciding what music is good and bad are over – companies now tell you what you should buy and price their product appropriately.
Want proof? Just check out in stores and digital downloads. Ever notice that some new digital music singles sell for 30% less than standard 99-cent rate? And new CDs, for certain popular artists, which normally sell for $13.99 at a store, sell for $7.99? Not coincidence.
It’s no longer about the music or how much money sales generate, it’s only about how many physical units are sold. Selling a million physical copies of a single or a CD offsets the loss of millions of dollars in the art that created it.
Worst of all, this manufactured stuff gets top billing in stores, radio and I-Tunes while “real” new music gets pushed to Indie web sites to be stumbled upon by accident.
To help reinforce my point about the difference between real music and today’s manufactured material let’s do a quick comparison of #1 songs in the USA from the years 1982 and 2011.
Entire month of January 1982: Physical: Olivia-Newton John Entire month of January 2011:Grenade: Bruno Mars
Entire Month of April 1982:I Love Rock and Roll: Joan Jett and The Black Hearts
Entire Month of April 2011: ET (Katy Perry w. Kanye West) – No, it’s not about the little alien guy who ironically, first appeared in 1982.
Half of the month of July and all of August 1982: Eye of The Tiger (Survivor) Entire month of July and Half of August 2011: Party Rock (LMFAO Featuring Lauren Bennett & GoonRock)
Now, armed with this knowledge, ask yourself this question:
Thirty years from now, which songs will you still remember?
Yesterday I wrote about the over saturation of Christmas music being played non-stop on my local radio station. And although they have tried their best to ruin songs that I’ve grown up with and adore they haven’t succeeded.
There are certain songs played only this time of year that not only remind me about the true meaning of the holiday but also conjure up memories of family and Christmases long gone by. After all, there really is no place like home for the holidays.
The list of songs I’ve compiled here all have one thing in common: visual imagery. When ever I hear these songs (done well of course) I find myself being caught up “in” the story of the song. So with this in mind you’ll see that none of these songs contain barking dogs, Christmas donkeys or Grandmas getting run over. Yes, songs like that are cute but they aren’t even in the same league as the ones below.
Although I don’t ever recall toasting marshmallows this time of year or telling tales of glory or ghosts (although there was that one time I saved the cat that was stuck out on the roof) these songs forever hold a special place in my heart. Let’s see if you agree.
My Favorite Christmas songs of all time:
5. Christmas Time Is Here – (1965): It’s got to be the version by Vince Guaraldi for The Charlie Brown Christmas Special. No other song sets the mood for Christmas more for me than this. When I hear this song I immediately conjure up memories of Snoopy and all the children skating on the ice as the snow softly falls. For a short while I’m a child again sitting in the parlor with my grandparents watching the show underneath a lighted Christmas tree and all is well with the world.
4. Happy Christmas (War is Over) – (1971): I’ve always been a big fan of John Lennon. But in all of the songs he’s written nothing (well except for maybe Imagine) makes you think more than this one does. From the very first line it immediately asks the question:
“So this is Christmas, and what have you done?”
And I think, what have I done? What have we all done to make this a better world? It can happen….if we only want it to. So why haven’t we?
3. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas (1944): Initially written to coincide with a scene in the Judy Garland movie Meet Me In St. Louis, I can only imagine what it must have been like to have watched this movie in the theater and heard that song for the very first time. This song also brings back warm memories of family for me, most notably the line:
“Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow”
What a promise of hope. Although families may be apart due to death, distance or war someday, God willing, we will once again all be together.
2. Do You Hear What I Hear – (1962): Believe it or not this song was actually written during the Cuban Missile Crisis. A time when the threat of nuclear war was very real and very near. Although the real meaning of this song dealt with one of the scariest times in our nation’s history when I listen to this song now I immediately become one with the night wind, Sheppard boy and mighty king. In my mind’s eye I see an old kingdom on the first Christmas morning where royal and peasant join in unison in praising the name of the newborn. I see myself high above the tree looking down and taking it all in as the call to pray for peace everywhere is made. Sadly, 50 years since it was written and this same proclamation couldn’t be needed more.
1. Hark The Herald Angels Sing – A carol that actually began in the mid 1700’s and went through several iterations to become what it is today. This song is my all time favorite for several reasons but mostly because of just one line that pretty much sums up the entire holiday for me:
Peace on Earth and Mercy Mild, God and Sinners reconciled.
So tell me, what are some of your favorite songs of Christmas?
All of the shopping, tree trimming, wrapping of presents and church activities will soon be over. Just a few more days and Christmas will be here. The hustle and bustle we’ve all been consumed by while waiting for the birth of the Christ Child or the fat man in a red suit to arrive will soon reach its peak.
I must admit that I always used to be a bit saddened once the festivities were over. Even after every last one was accounted for, I still found myself looking around for that one stray present with my name on it that requires unwrapping.
Conversely, one thing I definitely will NOT miss when the holiday is over is the local radio station playing non-stop Christmas music. What started out as perhaps the coolest thing ever has gotten way out of hand.
It all started years ago when our local FM station decided to give the Lehigh Valley a present and play nothing but holiday songs on Christmas day. I always looked forward to the Christmas morning tradition of brewing a huge cup of coffee, grabbing garbage bags to house shredded wrappings in and turning on the radio to hear Andy Williams belt out a carol or two or ten. Songs that I hadn’t heard since I was a wee boy traveling to Grandma’s house in the back of my parents beat up Chevelle were now blaring once again through the speakers. Life was good.
Then someone decided to make the most of a good thing. Soon the radio station bumped the 24/7 Christmas extravaganza to include Christmas eve beginning around 6PM, which at the time I thought made a nice prelude to the holiday magic and celebrations.
I began to become a bit concerned the following year when the suits at the radio station decided to start playing the Christmas songs at the start of the shopping season. Much to my chagrin Black Friday soon became the starting point for decking the halls. There seemed to be nothing to look forward to as far as music was concerned.
Flash forward to today and it’s really gotten sickening.
The local station here decided to start playing their annual CHRISTMAS MUSIC 24 hours a day, seven days a week starting November 1st. That’s right, the day after HALLOWEEN! The day you start recovering from binging on your kid’s Snickers and Milky Way mini-bars and for the next FIFTY-FOUR days is a row you get plenty of Andy, The Carpenters, Mariah Carey and the Chipmunks. Punishment that would only put a smile on the face of the Grinch. I swear, if I have to listen to Mariah Carey sing “All I Want For Christmas is You” one more time I’m going to drop a fruit cake on my head and end it all.
What’s supposed to put you in a cheery holiday mood only gives me a big ol’ case of the bah-humbugs.
I have to laugh when ever I look back at the journal I kept twenty-five years ago. The red spiral bound notebook now worn and tattered with age still feels like youth when I hold it and delve into its pages. It began its journey originally as a notebook for my music theory class before becoming the repository for my thoughts and dreams. Over the months of my final year in high-school it was covered with stickers that would indicate to anyone who dared view some of my real obsessions:
“Gibson”, “Explorer” and “Guitar” to stand for the electric guitar that I played and “5150” for the Van-Halen album I was listening to and wearing out at the time.
So many years have since passed and it’s amusing to once again read the adventures of the seventeen year old boy trying to find himself during his final year of public education.
This post, with entries written a quarter century ago, deals with me getting ready for the Easton Area High School Concert Choir Christmas show and facing the notion that my life may be falling apart.
I had just recently resigned my position as fry cook at the local McDonald’s and wanted to concentrate solely on my music. A stupid move in retrospect considering that in addition to resigning my burger flipping duties I also sacrificed my only source of income.
My mother had been renting an electric guitar for me to learn on for over a year (one I still have to this day) and I used to spend most of my free time practicing it up in my room after school. At the time, my only real social activity was limited to seeing the 80’s hair bands whenever they came to town to perform.
Looking back it’s also kind of sad to think about how serious I took the insignificant issues I was going through. But I suppose that when you are seventeen and have only the belief that rock superstardom awaits you every little bump in the road suddenly becomes a major event. But I am happy to report that at least these entries contain a happy ending as you’ll soon discover.
After reading me vent about my inner turmoil feel free to leave your own comments or, if you were there with me at the time, leave some of your own memories about those days.
12/17/86: Tonight is the choir christmas concert. Who knows, it might work out ok. As for practice: hardly any due to the fact that I have to find a ride to school because of the shitty headlights on my car. It starts at 6:45. I have to be there by then so I’ll leave around a quarter after six to have enough time.
It’s over. I mean I’ve lost all interest it’s so I don’t have the feeling anymore. The spark is gone. I don’t get inspiration anymore. All of my songs I try to write just don’t seem right. The words all come out wrong. You know, my career is dying….and part of me shall die with it.
It’s time I confess my problems. Last night, several things came into focus to really put me down for the count. They are as follows:
1. A very low-grade on my Mythology test.
2. Trouble with seeing Bon Jovi due to headlight failure and it being at night. The headlights worked perfectly the night before.
3. No money: Probably my biggest problem
4. No interest – It’s been falling for about a week
5. No guitar – though I possess it it’s not mine yet (it’s rented) and I feel I’m losing out somehow.
6. Aggravation – Peer pressure and the like but I’ve been dealing with that for years.
7. Finding a ride to and from the concert tonight.
8. Losing friends rapidly
If I gave it more thought there would be more than eight problems but these are the big ones. It’s over now….done.
12/18/86: Well, my life is still falling. I’ve never felt this way before. Lately I’ve been flipping out on everyone for no reason. Yesterday I discovered my car needs a register or some part to fix the headlights…good luck with that!
One good thing: Last night at the choir concert some girl got me confused with someone else she wanted to hug….but I obliged. Haha… It was funny though. I’m beginning to get myself together both psychologically and musically.
I never met Davy Jones. Never even saw him perform in concert for that matter. And yet somehow I still felt a sense of loss when word of his death reached me yesterday.
go.Jimmy.go 