Dancing In Place

I recently unpacked my music collection following a move to a new home, and it occurred to me that the different formats of music delivery reflect eras in my life. I remember buying my first 45 rpm, "She Loves You" / "I'll Get You," by the Beatles, sometime in 1964. I recall my first record album, "The Beach Boy's Greatest Hits Vol. 2," a year or two later. I stayed with the album format until college, when cassettes provided both more compact storage and the opportunity to have two albums on one tape -- and to customize "mixes." CD's came around while I was a young parent, opening the door for mp3s, iPods, and the digital music delivery era.  Through the changes in music delivery formats, a few things remain constant.

One, a well written song is timeless and easily transcends changing formats. "Sgt. Pepper" sounds just as amazing in 2011 as it did in 1967.

Two, a great song can be reinterpreted by different artists. I prefer songs performed by their originators, but give me Harry Nilsson's version of "Without You" over the original by Badfinger any day of the week (not to mention Jimi Hendrix's take on Bob Dylan's "All Along The Watchtower").

• Nillson: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vAX1rkdzUH4
• Hendrix: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bng3agUOYiI

Three, the music of our youth travels with us throughout our lives. With a few exceptions, it tends to be "the best music" of our lives, subjectively.

Four, it's a great pleasure hearing your children -- at any age -- singing some of your favorite songs.

I recently wrote a song to capture the times of my life: childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, parenthood, and finally grandparenthood -- my current condition.  It's called "Dancing In Place," written shortly after my first grandchild was born. Dance and music are my metaphor for living, changing, and experiencing time as we dance through it.

http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=1

Formats change, styles change, people change, and yet there's something constant, something lasting, in music.  Life needs a soundtrack, indeed; the one we make as well as the one we hear.

Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain

It's raining.

Hard.

This is way beyond cats and dogs; it's more like rhinos and hippos. Good for the hippos, not so much for the rhinos. Having just walked several hundred yards in the torrent with a miniature, bright green umbrella borrowed from my wife, I'm feeling a bit like the rhino right now.

Could this be the hard rain that Bob Dylan warned us about?

I'm reminded that rain is a strong metaphor in music. It's often associated with broken hearts, washed away dreams, tears from heaven, and other sad things.  Every now and then, there's a song about the finer qualities of sky water. John Lennon didn't seem to be bothered by it. Wise before and after his time, he pointed out that the good or bad of any condition, weather or otherwise, has more to do with us than it does with the condition.

So why so many songs about rain? There's a website that lists nearly 800 songs about rain:

http://www.lacarte.org/songs/rain/

There's even a song that's called "Songs About Rain."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEkQGa_O5tU

There's black rain (Ozzy Osbourne), purple rain (Prince), and red rain (Peter Gabriel). Early morning rain (Gordon Lightfoot) and rainy nights (Eddie Rabbit). Someone even left a cake out in the rain (Jimmy Webb). Rain on our heads (David/Bacharach) and in our hearts (Holly).  Laughter in the rain (Sedaka) and crying in the rain (Nelson). The list goes on and on.

My first rain song, Sweet September, was written just before I left my hometown for college. For as long as I could remember, the first day of September seemed to be rainy, perhaps in an effort to wash away summer and let the autumn fall in its place. Leaving the only place I'd ever known as home for a new place, a new life, and a new beginning was a transition: letting go of the old, making a change, and embracing the new.  When I recorded the song, I slowed it down and gave it some tremelo to evoke the peaceful, lazy feel of a warm summer day.

Sweet September: http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=80

"Sweet September comes at last;

Winter's coming, summer's passed.

Such a friend won't go away,

Rainy sweet September day."

While not every September 1st has been rainy in subsequent years, there's generally at least one rainy day early in the month to set the stage for the changing of the seasons. Maybe that's why Harry Warren and Al Dubin in 1937 wrote "September in the Rain" for the film, "Melody for Two." Dozens of artists including the Beatles, Chad & Jeremy (my personal favorite rendition), Bing Crosby, Rod Stewart, Willie Nelson, and Norah Jones have recorded the song. Here's Dinah Washington's take on the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvB6rrnzDM8

A few years later while a graduate student at Colorado State, I wrote another rain song called It's Easy. Part "get over yourself" and part "make the best of any situation," I wanted to recapture the innocence and exuberance of getting caught in the rain.

It's Easy: http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=41

"What's the use of getting down, complaining about the rain:

There is nothing you can do, so why should you complain?

Take it easy, let it pour, and let yourself get wet;

I ain't heard of anybody dying from it yet...

...Like the rain that comes and goes and leaves its tears behind

Ride the wind and catch the sun, and that is what you'll find."

It's true that some people suffer for lack of shelter and warmth. It's easy to say "It's easy" when you've got the resources. In the context of this song, it's may also be easy to change your mind and change your mood. Cognitive behavioral therapists tell us that feelings/moods are based on thoughts, and thoughts are created by us; thoughts aren't necessarily reality, but rather our interpretation of circumstances.

A mind is a terrible thing to not change.

Pete Townsend ends his rock opera, Quadrophenia, with a little double entendre:

"Only love can bring the rain

That makes you yearn to the sky

Only love can bring the rain

That falls like tears from on high,

Love, reign o'er me..."

It's easy, like love is supposed to be. Love, rain over me.

Life Needs A Soundtrack

In his hierarchy of needs, Maslow left out two very important considerations. Beyond safety, food, and shelter, most humans need music and stories to survive. It's nice when both come in one package.

I watch a good number of movies -- some for entertainment, some for inspiration. Music is a major character in most movies, used to punctuate the action or story line. It can be subliminal, in your face, or anyplace in between, but the music brings the two-dimensional visuals to three-dimensional life. Good movies need good soundtracks.

Just like our lives.

Music invokes memories of times, places, and people gone by. Many years ago, Mac McAnally wrote a song called "Tryin' To Make The Yellow Lights" which contained the following lines:

"Radio plays a never ending song,
And when it's good and when it's bad I sing along.
And the words, they don't mean nothing;
It's just a soundtrack for my life..."

Yeah; that's what I believe too!

In my life (another good life soundtrack song by John Lennon), I've written quite a few songs. Collectively, they make up the soundtrack of my life so far. At 56, I'm hoping I have a few more songs to write. My songs cover many bases. A Colorado native, a Tennessee sojourner, and a Virginia Settler, I was born in the 50s, a child of the 60s, a student of the early 70s, a husband of the late 70s, a father in the 80s, and author in the 90s, a doctor of education in the 00s, a grandfather of the early 10s, and who knows what I'll be tomorrow. If I'm lucky, I'll continue to be a songrwriter.

After all, life needs a soundtrack.

For a sampling, try the Bandizmo link below. Start with "Castles of Sand" and "Windshield Full of Nebraska."

http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=5

http://www.bandizmo.com/user/player.php?page=songs&member=2819&nr=9

I do beg to differ with Mr. McAnally. The words do mean something.  I met Mac when I was producing concerts at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville in the early 1980s. He's an amazing songwriter / story-teller.

Nearly 30 years later, my youngest daughter just started working with an entertainment committee at a university in Maryland. Some songs were meant to be remade.