Stop and Hear the Music

I remember going to a used record store with my father when I was ten. I’d been to many record stores before, but none were quite like this one. There were just so many records stuffed into a small unorganized space. I looked through boxes and boxes of record while my father talked and laughed with the store clerk.

When I finally found one I wanted, I brought it over to them. It was the newest looking record I’d seen in the boxes. That’s probably why I chose it. I didn’t know who Don Byas was. I liked the smooth album cover–all white with his name in black block letters. It had a picture of a man playing the saxophone on it but the picture liked like it had been cut out from a magazine and pasted on the cover.

That night at home, I listened to that album again and again. My favorite song on it was Moonlight In Vermont. I’d listen to it before I went to bed for about a month.

When I was little I used to watch the Jackson Five cartoon. I asked my husband if he knew about it because he likes The Jackson Five also. He said he’d never heard of it. How could you call yourself a Jackson Five fan if you’ve never seen the cartoon? So here is the opening from it. Now you can sit back and remember the Saturday mornings of your youth.

I found the Alfie cassette in my father’s moldy smelling cassette bag that he kept under the television. I listened to it constantly alone in my room. Sometimes I’d even pretend to play along even though at the time I didn’t play any instrument.

I especially liked Alfie’s Theme. I also wondered who Alfie was. I wanted an equally as exciting theme for myself. I tried to make one up but wasn’t successful.

A few years ago I watched the movie Alfie. It wasn’t what I expected. It was too long and bored me out of my mind. Nothing like the tune. After watching the movie, I decided that Alfie really didn’t deserve to have such a good theme.

This performance cuts off in the middle, but it’s still worth watching. We can just imagine what the rest of it might be like.

“Give me the token,” she said as we pulled up to the toll both. “I can get it in the basket from here.” She beamed with excitement as she rolled down the passenger side window. She took the token from me, undid her seat belt and started climbing out the window.

“What are you doing?” I asked, panicked. The cars behind us had already started beeping their horns.

She sat on the edge of the window and launched the token over the roof of the car towards the basket. It hit the brim and bounced onto the concrete below. The honking behind us became even more impatient. I drove off, a short siren sounded behind us as we pulled out of the booth, calling attention to the unpaid toll.

She slid back into her seat and buckled her seat belt. “Next time I’ll make it,” she laughed and I wondered what it must be like to be her.

She was from the west, where there were mountains and fry sauce and no humidity. She ‘d never seen a pink moon or experienced thunder so loud it made your house shake. She smiled most of the time and never said an unkind word about anyone.

I wonder how much of who you are is determined by where you’re from. I wonder if I would have such a cynical outlook if I weren’t from New Jersey. I always thought I’m From New Jersey best captured what it’s like to be from New Jersey.

I’m from New Jersey
I don’t expect too much
If the world ended today
I would adjust

When I was little I thought this was the jam. My father had a recording of it and I used to listen to it all the time. I especially liked the ending. I remember re-winding the tape so that I could hear Summertime over and over again until it snapped. I don’t think my father knows I snapped his tape. It’s good that he usually doesn’t remember what’s in his music library

When I found this on You Tube I was so excited because it brought back so many memories.

I remember making the drive several times a year from Vermont to my parents’ house in New Jersey. Long drives like that are most tedious when you’re alone. I’d stop as little as possible, desperate to make good time. I’d ignore the numbness of my butt and try my best not to be hypnotized by the white lines on the highway.

One year, I bought a Born in the USA – Bruce Springsteen cassette for a buck at a thrift store. Once I acquired that tape I started a driving tradition that I didn’t change, even if someone else happened to be in the car with me. Once I passed the Asbury Park exit (exit 102) on the Garden State Parkway–my parents’ house was at exit 36–I’d play my Born in the USA cassette full blast and sing along. I’d also roll down all the windows no matter what the temperature was outside. This kept me awake.

I always sang the loudest for the song Glory Days. That was my favorite on the cassette. I also always loved the dancing in the video for Dancing in the Dark. It’s classic. I usually only post videos on Wednesday, but I just couldn’t resist.

The accordion lay in the middle of the living room floor for days. The strap broken now. The words Jesus Saves in sparkly letters across the front.

He’d pick it up and play daily. A thin brown belt looped over his shoulder replacing the accordion’s strap. “I don’t play accordion,” he’d say. And I’d wonder how he makes something he doesn’t play sound good. I’ve tried to play the accordion and it’s never sounded good.

I stand in the kitchen watching the water flow from the tap into my glass. The fluorescent light bleaching my thoughts, I find myself singing. I nod my head quickly as I sing to get the right warble in my voice. “Let me give you a kiss goodnight.” The sound of late night news seeps under the bedroom door. “Before slipping into our dreams.”

The house is dark. “Let me awaken to find you there.” I go to sleep. “Your arms around me as you sleep.” I go to sleep hoping he’ll be home before morning.

Lydia is on Johnny Vanderlip’s Johnny’s Phresh Produce.

When I was in my late teens, I went with my father to see Keith Jarrett at Carnegie Hall. A friend of his had gotten some tickets to the concert and we went with him. We sat in the balcony. Once Keith Jarrett came out on stage my father’s friend got up and left to make a phone call. He spent the entire concert outside on the phone. Who goes to a Keith Jarrett concert and spends the whole time on the phone? What was the phone call about? It must’ve been urgent.

I was thinking about that concert today. So I decided to post this. I don’t know where this concert was or the name of the tune, but it’s a pretty good video. I love the crazy movements he does when he performs. When I went to the concert, I had never seen Keith Jarrett perform before. I remember feeling slightly embarrassed because it looked like he was humping the piano.

In my sixties style orange mini-dress and large plastic beaded necklace, I was ready for the party. I was never very social but I went through a stage of wanting to go to every party no matter how painful I knew it would be. Parties are usually painful for the socially awkward like me.

Getting ready for the party is the fun part. I would put on loud music and dance around my room as I got dressed. I enjoyed singing into a hairbrush and posing in the mirror. Once I was almost thirty minutes late meeting some friends to go out. I was dressed and ready to go. I’d just gotten way too into singing and posing in the mirror. I shamelessly admitted it to them when I arrived at the restaurant. They were waiting for me on benches outside. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” I said as I walked up. “I’ve been singing into my hairbrush and posing in the mirror for a half hour. Funny how time gets away from you.”

Earth Wind & Fire’s “All ‘n All” was released the year my little sister was born, 1977, but makes great getting ready for the party music even now. If I were a little less socially awkward and a little more able to notice what’s happening at the parties I attend beyond my own anxiety, I’d probably notice “All ‘n All” being played at some of those parties. I’m sure it makes great party music as well.

You don’t normally think of a cemetary as a place to hang out, but Hope Cemetary was different. It was included in the area tourist brochures as a place to see. I used to go there sometimes alone, but mostly with friends. We’d wander amoung the tombstones–talk and take pictures. Snow crunched beneath our winter boots.

That was when I was listening to Tom Waits all the time. I’d play Franks Wild Years too loudly while studying. The songs would still be swirling in my head as I headed to classes. Innocent When You Dream (78) was my favorite song then.