Category: All the stuff what I like.

What fun it has been, looking back and recalling the musical encounters of my earlier years. This fourth entry in the ‘most influential albums I listened to growing up’ series takes me way back—I was maybe six or seven years old. In no particular order, here’s—

Post four of ten: Diamond Girl by Seals and Crofts

This album makes my list for more reasons than its tunes. For me, it’s connected to a larger collection of memories surrounding a hero of mine—my big brother Dave. 

There is a season in every child’s life that is so very frustrating. It’s that window of time when you know you’re capable of doing something on your own, but no one trusts you to do it by yourself. With the old vinyl records in my house, this was especially true. No one wanted to risk allowing the kid to scratch their records, so the oft heard refrain was DON’T TOUCH!

My oldest brother Dave broke ranks. He wanted to share his love of music with me—his fourteen-years-younger little brother. Dave took the time to teach me how to treat vinyl records, how to pick them up, hold them, put them on the turntable, apply the needle to them, and put them away when I was done.

And, here’s the most memorable part for me: After the lesson, Dave allowed me to play his records on his record player any time I wanted. Daredevil or hero? Yes!

Which brings me to Seals and Crofts. Among Dave’s many records was one with two hairy-faced men standing under weird green lamps with some scary looking gold ball with a face on it between them. I’m not sure what all that was, but to a little kid it was intriguing. I chose that as my first album of choice to play.

Musically, I loved the way these guys blended their voices. I also remember this album as my first experience of other stringed instruments beyond a guitar—they had mandolins and violins and maybe even a banjo or two in there. And of course, my true artistic love: story.

One song in particular caught my fancy. I’ll give you a verse:

Dust on my saddle, mud on my boots;
Couple of empty saddle bags except for two old suits;
I’m tired and I’m hungry, worried as can be,
Last night I saw a poster and they’re still after me.

[Note: Just gave you that verse from memory and I haven’t heard that song in more than forty years. I’m impressed even if you’re not.]

As a kid, that did it. I wanted to know this lonely cowboy/outlaw. I wanted to join him on the run. This may be the song that turned me into the western buff I became—it is true, I love every television western series ever made. In fact, if you’re ever on Millionaire and a question comes up about old TV westerns, make me your phone-a-friend. I’ll win you the cash, baby!

I’m sure, also, that the song served as a reminder to me of one of my favorite western characters in all the world, Big Al. Who of course sang, “Blood on my saddle …” A story for another time.

I do recall Dave telling me (and probably after he’d heard Dust on My Saddle for the fortieth time in a row), “You know, there are some other great songs on that record.” Hint, hint.

He took the time to play the rest of the record with me, pointing out the title track, Diamond Girl. I eventually came to appreciate the entire tracklist. We May Never Pass This Way Again became another favorite of mine, for all of its talk about dreams and their worth.

Here I am some forty-five years later. These tunes take me back. And they point me forward. Story does that. I’m grateful for this album and the recollections of my childhood which are connected to it, for their influence on my writing life … and my real life.

Another blast from my musical past. Continuing this series on the most influential albums I listened to growing up (in no particular order), here’s …

Post three of ten: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John

It’s always best to start at the beginning – and all you do is follow the Yellow Brick Road. –Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, The Wizard of Oz

A vivid childhood memory I’ll share with you, and honestly I shiver a little even as I write this–I was terrified of the Wicked Witch of the West. Her and her creepy crooked fingers, green skin, and those flying monkeys! I had nightmares about her after seeing the Wizard of Oz.

If you could only imagine my hesitance when my first girlfriend–I was five, she was six, so … an older woman–invited me into her bedroom to listen to a rock-n-roll album entitled Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. 

I remember looking at the cover. It was a man in a pink jacket–back in a day when men didn’t wear pink jackets. And he was stepping out on to a Yellow Brick Road wearing shoes … I thought my sister had a pair just like those, actually. I’ll admit it, I was confused.

Then we listened. I’ll tell you what, this dude was a crazy piano player! I’d never heard anything like it.

It was a double album. You know that whole thing about little girls not having little boys in their bedrooms? We didn’t get to the end of the first record of the double album before Katherine’s mom protested. I was shown the Yellow Brick Road … home.

But me and Katherine were mischievous. We did wild and crazy things our parents never knew about. Like brushing her family’s Pug dog’s teeth … with Katherine’s little sister Melinda’s toothbrush. And putting masking tape on her cat Marvella’s paws and watching her dance. I’m telling you, you cannot possibly have any more fun at five and six years old!

Of course, every chance we had over the next several days, whenever her mom was otherwise occupied, we were back at it–Elton was spinning on her little record player.

That double album contains some real gems. And story–every tune tells a story! I wasn’t aware of it then, but I’ve since learned about the partnership of Elton John and Bernie Taupin–it was John’s musicianship and Taupin’s storytelling lyrics that I fell in love with.

I recommend the whole double album, not a bad tune on it really. But for the writing side, the storytelling side, let me give you just one–Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting. Taupin paints a picture. John’s vocal takes you there–

[Verse 1]
It’s getting late, have you seen my mates?
Ma, tell me when the boys get here
It’s seven o’clock and I want to rock
Want to get a belly full of beer
My old man’s drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
And my old lady, she don’t care
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots
A handful of grease in her hair

[Chorus]
Don’t give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night’s alright for fighting
Get a little action in
Get about as oiled as a diesel train
Going to set this dance alight
Saturday night’s the night I like
Saturday night’s alright, alright, alright

[Verse 2]
Well, they’re packed pretty tight in here tonight
I’m looking for a dolly who’ll see me right
I may use a little muscle to get what I need
I may sink a little drink and shout out “she’s with me!”
A couple of the sounds that I really like
Are the sounds of a switchblade and a motorbike
I’m a juvenile product of the working class
Whose best friend floats at the bottom of a glass

Unfortunately, my romance with Katherine ended just a few months later. It was like Elton John shared in another song: “she went and left me for some foreign guy” … or at least that’s how my five-year-old self understood her family’s move to St. Augustine.

But the memories remain. And the influence of these songwriters/musicians is indelibly written on my literary life.