These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

Contrary to what some people might say, I am NOT like the kid Mikey in this iconic TV commercial.  I don't really hate everything.  Not yet, anyway.  It's just that my tastes tend to be decidedly ... shall we say ... non-mainstream.  Perhaps unique would be more appropriate. Maybe even distinctive?  Since I haven't posted anything in quite a while, I thought I might dust off my blog and share a few of my eccentricities with you. (If you would like to buy my book as a result of reading this post, so much the better!)


Music
For me, music is life and life is music.  I'd rather die than live in a country in which music was forbidden by government--or any other--edict.

There's a select group of musicians whom I consider my musical idols.  They are: Jeff Lynne of Electric Light Orchestra fame; Canadian songwriter and folksinger Gordon Lightfoot; Percy Faith--another Canadian--who in his day was the undisputed king of orchestral music; the Beatles (n'est-ce pas?); Carole King who is my unquestioned queen of the angst-ridden, let's-get-melancholy and-sing-sad-songs genre; and Richard Carpenter, who teamed with his late sister Karen to define an entirely new niche of smooth, mellow rock in an era of dominated by the works of Led Zeppelin, the Doors, the Stones, Black Sabbath, and a host of others.


Jeff Lynne
The Electric Light Orchestra was my hands-down favorite band of all time.  Masterminded by lead guitarist/lead vocalist/songwriter Jeff Lynne, this innovative group took standard, electric-guitar-driven rock and took it to an unheard-of new level through the addition of cellos, violins, full orchestral propulsion, and unconventional full choral backing.  Combined with Lynne's melodic, hooky songs (I believe he wrote most of their hits with the exception of Chuck Berry's Roll Over Beethoven) , ELO introduced an appealingly eccentric sound that propelled them to the highest reaches of the rock world.

I offer this clip from one of their landmark shows at London's Wembley Stadium in 1978 at the height of their fame.  Watch these somewhat offbeat musicians leave it all on the stage during the finale of Roll Over Beethoven:
http://dai.ly/xs8542

Fast forward to 2001.  Having just completed work on an ELO-branded comeback album called Zoom, Lynne and a reconstituted group of musicians (the lone holdover being longtime keyboardist and friend Richard Tandy) find themselves in a Los Angeles TV studio drumming up support for an upcoming concert tour to promote the new disk.  However, due to anemic ticket sales, the tour never happens.  It wouldn't surprise me if Zoom turns out to be one of the final ELO-branded albums released as Jeff has turned his energies to producing other artists' works.  This is my favorite track from Zoom, a song with a fun, funky beat called "Alright."
https://youtu.be/vVafbGsN5zA

Gordon Lightfoot
During a rare televised concert for PBS in Chicago in 1980, Gordon Lightfoot was introduced this way: "If the word 'troubador' can be applied to 20th Century music at all, then Gordon Lightfoot is a troubadour--perhaps the last one we'll ever know."

Well put!

He sang songs of lost love, lost hope, lost people, social relevance, injustice, the joy of lust, working-class life, and coping with all the nonsense that permeates the world.  His masterful songs--combined with the virtuoso work of his sidemen--made his music a dependable source of comfort and entertainment through most of my life.

However, time, tide, smoking, touring, and a lifesaving medical procedure have combined to nearly destroy his voice.  A resonant, rich baritone has been choked into a thin, watery tone that I find painful to listen to.  Perhaps I'm being overly critical; he continues to sell CDs and concert tickets.  I think I prefer to remember him in his prime when his voice was full and strong and his songs were instantly recognizable and loved far beyond his native Canada.  This is a TV clip of him performing one of his signature tunes:
https://youtu.be/DK--A-IaZnA


Percy Faith
What?!  Doctor's office music?  Elevator music?  Okay, call it what you want.  But I think it takes a rare sort of musical mastery to blend the shimmer of violins, the shrill audacity of brass, the mellow fullness of woodwinds, and the solid subtlety of French horns, combine them with popular music, and produce a sound that brought a sense of civility to a musically-turbulent age.  Percy Faith did that and more.  I remember spending countless hours of my teenage (and later) years marvelling at how that man could weave the many disparate voices of an orchestra into a cohesive unit executing charts of exquisite quality.  Later, he would add women's (and men's) voices to the blend, adding a new dimension to his already-impressive resume.  Composer, pianist, arranger, and musician extraordinaire, Percy Faith's music will live forever.  In a rare Canadian TV shot, Faith and his orchestra perform their signature work:
https://youtu.be/tFi_CKNJjwE

Richard and Karen Carpenter
What?!  More elevator music?!  More doctor's office music?!  You bet!  While his sister was the "face" and the unmistakable "voice" of the group, Richard was merely the co-composer of several of their hits, the orchestrator, arranger, conductor, musical director, backing vocalist, and yes, keyboard artist.  But despite her angelic voice, her wealth, a guaranteed place in music history, and her fame, Karen was a lonely and very troubled young woman rarely able to enjoy emotional peace.  In this next clip, watch her eyes.  They are so sad and mournful, two elements that she channelled into her performances until her private pain became unbearable.  I hope she is resting in peace, comforted by how much her fans--myself very much included--still love her to this day.   
https://youtu.be/HQx1dAaavxc


Carole King
Whenever I hear this Carole King song, I get the urge to settle into my reclining chair, open a bottle of wine, and remember how long it's been since I've been to MY personal Canaan.  Ever since "It's Too Late" first soothed my ears, I've especially connected with her songs about past times, past loves, and past promises that never quite came true.
https://youtu.be/KJmAFW4idbc

If there's one song category in which Ms. King really shines, it's the you-and-I-just-aren't-working-anymore-are-we? genre.  A case in point:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzeURZigSws

The Beatles
In the music industry's most laughable case of "dont-always-listen-to-the-experts," this obscure combo (at the time) was rejected by a major record label who disdained "guitar groups."  Go figure.
https://youtu.be/jenWdylTtzs

Honorable Mentions:
Okay, disco music wasn't the most cerebral art form on the block; but bits and pieces of that era still survive to this day having survived wave after wave of music trends and fads.  Although I personally will never forgive disco for destroying 1970s rock, the catchy beat and "fun" element still compels me to ask the musical question: did we REALLY talk and dress like that?????

This catchy tune is still heard during intermissions and extended breaks at sporting events.
https://youtu.be/Vc0gYbTNctU

This Florida-based band could be heard in any discotheque in
America (does anybody remember discotheques?) on any night of the week:
https://youtu.be/mABuS9eSWnQ

Some songs actually had a legitimate point to them:
https://youtu.be/WhgY4Te0uFs

Here's the one that started the whole tsunami, the mother of all disco songs:
https://youtu.be/wj23_nDFSfE

How about a quick look back of one of the pioneers?  This oldie goldie makes you want to comma-comma-down-dooby-do-down-down all over again, doesn't it?
https://youtu.be/tbad22CKlB4

Rock's Red Rooster is STILL a chick magnet.
https://youtu.be/mPib8z8Rf7k

These two songs are just too damn catchy and likable for their own good:
https://youtu.be/BzIbyDbmsyg

https://youtu.be/lsHld-iArOc

I saved my last Honorable Mention for the man who brought us "That Old Time Rock And Roll."  This next song, "Roll Me Away," has special significance for me.  Bob Seger perfectly describes an apocalyptic journey I would've given my right arm to undertake in my younger days.  Sadly, a number of personal limitations (health being the most compelling) forbid me from even considering it anymore.  So I must be content with Bob taking this musical journey for me by proxy.  Thankfully, he does it sooooooo well.
https://youtu.be/AM4DxUVGlIk

Although primarily a hard rocker, Bob can also convincingly handle a nostalgic ballad as well.  He infuses this song so full of melancholia that it arouses a number of my own personal memories as well.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH29n-MVW4k

Before anyone accuses me of being comatose, there is that occasional current-day song that'll catch my ear and delight my musical palate.  Such is the case with these two songs capably performed by these two talented artists:
https://youtu.be/xKN-2YEYb-4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKN-2YEYb-4


Places:
Do I have any favorite places?  Of course.  Otherwise I'd have nothing to write here.  Here is a blatant advertisement for one of my favorite places on earth.  Every railfan (and even you non-railroadaholics out there) should consider spending a relaxing summer (or autumn) afternoon here.
https://youtu.be/j-zmNlUqdnc


For the true railfan, this is the 3rd best seat on the train--following only the engineer's and fireman's perches in the locomotive cab.  The view is awesome if you don't mind a little coal dust on your butt (and a true railfan wouldn't mind that at all!)
https://youtu.be/pweLvipznEU



My favorite foods:
Authors do not live by writing alone.  If that were the case, we would all be quite slender and haggard-looking.  I certainly don't have those problems ... at least not the slender part.  Italian Beef has been a passion of mine for many years.  There is something about tender, succulent roast beef--perfectly spiced--and cooked to mouthwatering perfection by folks who take family pride in preparing it and carrying on the tradition started by their fathers and grandfathers.  Want a little sample?  I thought you'd never ask:

That is 10 inches of gravy-moistened Heaven.  There is indeed some beauty left in this world.


COFFEE!!!!  How many authors like coffee?  Millions of hands just went up.  In my case, I always brake for McDonald's Iced Coffee--caramel syrup, please--as a quick pick-me-up or a reward for ... whatever ... or as a consolation prize.  Or just because I'm thirsty.  An excuse is not always mandatory.  So there.  When I first tried it, the flavor reminded me of an overloaded ashtray.  But doggone, the cursed thing grew on me.  Now there's no driving past a McD's without stopping:

I think the bakers of Girl Scout Thin Mints add some sort of secret ingredient to make these chocolatey treats absolutely addictive.  Because that's what they are: absolutely addictive.  I anxiously wait for February and March to roll around so I can stock up on TM's for the rest of the year.  And they freeze very well as a bonus.  So if I control myself and ration my supply, I can have Thin Mints all year round.  But with these tasty little morsels as close as my freezer, can I be counted upon to control myself?  NOT A CHANCE!!!!

Does Ross Ponderson (the author of the compelling and must-read novel, "Child of Privilege") like BBQ ribs?  I'm glad you asked that question.  ABSOLUTELY!!

To paraphrase the legendary Led Zeppelin song, here are 3 Stairways to BBQ Heaven.  Three stairways--but there is some waiting.  Fast BBQ is not great BBQ!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6xHWroEAXA
https://youtu.be/tC6keui55e8
https://youtu.be/Pf03vpxk96M


There you have it: a partial list of things that make me happy ... aside from nice folks like you buying my book.  Now it's time to get back to work on novel #2.  But first I'll listen to some ELO, run to McD's for coffee, pick up some ribs or Italian Beef, and enjoy a couple of thin Mints.

Priorities, you understand.  Until next time....

Don't forget to pet your thesaurus today!

We Were So Innocent

Several days ago, I popped one of my all-time favorite movies into my DVD player: American Graffiti.

I sheepishly confess to seeing George Lucas's pre-Star Wars paean to 1960s teenage angst ten times during its U.S. theater run in 1973.  Nearly 45 years later, that DVD and my little Sony player frequently get together for a couple of hours of nostalgic fun.

While it meets the classic requirements for "coming of age" flicks (raging hormones, fast cars, rock and roll music, parent-duping, and continuous misbehavior), there's a certain depth to this film that still touches me after all these years; something of a philosophical message, if you will.

We were so damn INNOCENT back then, an innocence we sacrificed at the altar of sophistication.  You won't see cell phones, the Internet, email, digital cameras, GPS, texting, MP3 players, personal computers, surveillance cameras, or Google in this movie.  Yet the characters had one hell of a night with only drive-ins, hot rods, a howling disk jockey playing continuous rock and roll, movies, gangs, blondes driving T-Birds, sock hops, and the single-minded pursuit of sex to entertain them.  They were a hardy breed back then, weren't they?  Hardy ... innocent ... unsophisticated.  We're so much happier and better off today entombed in cyberspace and our virtual realities.

Aren't we?

Aren't we?

I'm sorry.  The number you have reached is thinking about it.

Even the juvenile delinquents of the day didn't seem quite so ... delinquent ... in retrospect.  Sure, they drove souped-up cars, rumbled, smoked, drank, and chased girls.

But make no mistake about it: every "nice kid" in the neighborhood secretly admired and envied them.  I know I did.  Why?  We "nice kids" lived vicariously through the neighborhood gossip of the bad boys' misdeeds, sampling a swagger, attitude, and lifestyle we knew we'd never experience.  The line between "nice" and "bad" wasn't often crossed; so they were our connection to life's "wild side."

But even the bad boys sometimes had their moments.

I recall one tough guy from my old neighborhood.  Although Frank came from a solid and close-knit family, my father labeled him a JD and warned me repeatedly to stay the hell away from him.  Frank wore a black leather jacket and white t-shirt, smoked cigarettes, slicked his hair back, and had that carefully-cultivated aura of BAD about him.  His reputation around the 'hood was that of a dude not to be messed with; a future guest of the state prison system, right?

Wrong!

I remember Mister Black Leather Jacket spending hours with me in my backyard trying to teach me to play baseball.  He did manage to show me how to catch the ball without my looking like a complete klutz.  That in itself was a major accomplishment.  He also took the time to teach me the finer points of pitching, laughing under his breath as he struggled to corral my out-of-control throws.  Frank did laugh at me a lot during those hours but I hereby publicly forgive him.  Because thanks to a juvenile delinquent similar to AG's John Milner, I was infamous for a wicked curve ball in our street-corner baseball games.

Anyway, AG's setting is Modesto, California (although most of the exterior filming was done in Petaluma), on the final summer night of 1962.  A tight-knit group of friends is enjoying a final night's mischief together before two of them would depart the following day for an eastern college.

Lucas does concede to a little character stereotyping: Terry the nerd complete with pimples, glasses, a perpetual hard-on, and romantic ineptitude; Curt the sensitive, intellectual, future writer who spends the evening searching for sex, gang membership, truth, justice, the American way, and an elusive blonde in a white T-Bird; John the bad-ass hot-rodder with a marshmallow heart and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve; Laurie, an overly needy (but unbearably cute) head cheerleader portrayed by a pre-Laverne-and-Shirley Cindy Williams; and Steve, the clean-cut, every mother's son played by a post-Andy-Griffith-but-pre-directorial Ron Howard.

I won't grind though the entire plot here, but suffice it to say the five principal stories intertwine and diverge repeatedly throughout the night, backed by the ubiquitous howling of enigmatic disc jockey Wolfman Jack and one of the best movie soundtracks ever assembled.

Even the music of that era reflected an America only slightly bruised by the stony terrain of the Cold War.

The Beach Boys sang of surfing safaris, good vibrations, surfer girls, and little deuce coupes; Elvis Presley, well, he was Elvis ... need I say more?; Bobby Vinton, Connie Francis, Bobby Vee, and a thousand others sang of broken hearts and starry-eyed love; countless doo-wop groups shang-a-lang'ed, waa-waa-waa'ed, sha-la-la'ed, and dooby-dooby-doo'ed while we listened and dreamed of finding true love at the drive-in; songs such as Since I Don't Have You, Sixteen Candles, I Only Have Eyes For You, Come Go With Me, and Barbara Ann told stories of puppy love untainted by a world destined to turn upside down all too soon. 

But the old concerns about driving a cool car, having enough money to buy the latest records (what are "records"?), evading the radar-like surveillance of one's parents, getting to "first base" (or even beyond, you lucky dog!) with tonight's date, getting passing grades, and finding someone cool to dance with at the high school hop would soon be replaced by worries much more ominous, many having potentially deadly consequences.

That idyllic American innocence was about to come to a shattering end.  Massive rocks and boulders were waiting just beyond the next bend in the road.

Lucas chose to conclude his film with a downbeat ending.  I won't reveal it here, but his decision only added to American Graffiti's uniqueness, reality, and depth.  Real life doesn't always end happily with everybody smiling and pretty music playing.

Steve, Laurie, Terry, Curt, and John could not have seen it coming; neither could anyone else.  The age of America's innocence was about to end ... and never return.

With wide, disbelieving, and sometimes tear-filled eyes, we watched (and still do) as our comfortable old American tapestry was abruptly ripped to shreds and replaced by bizarre, confusing, and sometimes terrifying colors: the assassinations of President Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; the Marines landing at Da Nang and the start of the Viet Nam War; the Beatles; Watergate; the Challenger Disaster; the Internet; anti-war protests rocking the streets and college campuses; terrorism; the civil rights movement; rogue nations with nuclear capabilities; disco music; the war on terror; the Kent State shootings; social media; the British music invasion; LSD; Chicago's 1968 Democratic Convention; climate change; personal computers; our inner cities in flames; the sexual revolution; cell phones; bullying; pet rocks, lava lamps, and mood rings; the fall of Saigon; 9/11; the My Lai Massacre; the hijacking of personal privacy by business and government; street, school, home, church, and workplace violence; hacking and data breaches.

After all that, can I interest anyone in a little innocence and unsophistication?

American Graffiti is truly a time capsule, a cinematic record of how simple, easy, and carefree life used to be ... once upon a happier time when we were so wonderfully innocent.  It's a great place to go back and visit.  And there have been many moments when I again wanted to live there.



Don't forget to pet your thesaurus today.


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