Since I’m listening to my “Lifetime Memory Bath” I’ve always meant to get down some thumbnail descriptions of why the music is meaningful to me, the idea being that if I listen to it too much the memory of those original impressions will be lost. That’s likely to be the effect of having written it out too, but at least I’ll have the words to remind me…. This is playing on Spotify on SHUFFLE, so the order is totally random… 12/22/20
Christlike – by the Roches — Makes me think about the time in Brooklyn, post-break up with Ellen, when I listened to them all the time. I feel like they are kind of angels to me, just staggered away from me in time. I get consumed by longing for their sweet rescue. This is embarrassing, but I don’t know how else to describe. Interesting that one of Sevi’s teacher’s (Hart’s?) At the Children’s School, PS372, was apparently a good friend of theirs. She definitely had soul and a blithe spirit, but also seemed so dandruffy and worn out too.
The Night Chicago Died – used to be sung by John Clare, in the Clare’s house at the end of Mill Road. He had the lyrics down pat. This would have been somewhere between 1971-1975.
I Wanna Be Back in Your Life – Jonathan Richman — Of course, the humor leavened goofy longing of this song was exactly how l liked to think of myself as I continually tried to get back (or get!) Kendall Cornell’s affection. So this would have been, like 1987-88, heavily listened to. I think she actually introduced me to him, which of course made it stick that much more…. Sweet and painful!
Because the Night – Patti Smith – reminds me of course of Jane, and what she had going for her, that punk fire. Would’ve been listening to this a lot in 1990-93.
Neverbird – Johnny Cunningham The seeringly beautiful theme from “Peter and Wendy” that we saw at the New Victory Theatre with Sevi when she was probably not much older than 3 or 4, probably shortly before Hart came. As it happened, the one playing the flute I would finally meet years and years later, Ivan Goff. I remember being so struck that this song in a way capture what was so moving about Peter Pan, about the evanescence of childhood how we can’t hold it. And this, even as her childhood was just starting out!
Leaving on Jet Plane – Peter Paul and Mary – This takes me all the way back Gulf Mills and later Mill Road, so the period of my earliest memories 1969-1974. My parents used to love listening to Peter Paul and Mary, especially on car rides, when we eventually had 8-track tapes to play them. The love spoken of in this song was I felt a proxy for my parents’ love, and their domestic problems clearly must have played out, to me this was the purity of what was essentially there between them. It was of course my romanticizing, what I needed to have them be. The song also reminds me of Undine.
Sueno de Una Noche de Verano – Silvio Rodriguez – The whole discovery of Rodriguez I owe to Deborah Magocsci, who opened the window to a lot of things culturally to me. Same with Sueno Con Serpientes, with its Brecht quote. Revolutionary and exciting. Of course I couldn’t keep up with her, and her craziness (bipolar? I have still have no idea what it was) was crippling to me. I’ve never been more of a helpless mess in my entire life than when I was going out with her. It’s also when my back problems began. So I would’ve been listening to this stuff a lot 1988-1990..
Rikki, Don’t Lose That Number – Steely Dan — OMG, the anthem of my nostalgia.. I listened to this on the plane coming back from France after 11 months away from home, age 17. I guess to pinpoint it exactly, it would have been in early June of 1981. Hell, that’s more than 40 years ago!! Anyway, it EXACTLY captured the feeling, on the lyric that ends “when you get home” of longing, of all I hoped to keep, of the wisdom I hoped to bring to my senior year to come. It was all tied up in beauty and the sadness of losing my good friends from the past year. What number could I use when I got back home? Later I learned that it was all about an assignation with one of their school teachers or something, which leant it that sly foxy air that it has, which I’m sure I also keyed into. Anyway, of all the songs on this list, this is maybe the REASON for having such a list. The UR song, in a way, for me, of wallowing nostalgia. I know, Montaigne warns against losing oneself in the past. But tell that Proust!
Ne Me Quitte Pas – Nina Simone — I don’t have a definite memory of why this is meaningful to me. I think it’s probably owing to the Jacques Brel connection, who I listened to incessantly in college (Freshman – Junior Years, at least). I don’t think I heard the Simone version til later. The backing flutes and strings of course put me in mind of French New Wave films, which hold a lot of emotional longing for me.
The Look of Love – Diana Krall — Of course this reminds me of Jane and that era, but more strongly Jenniphr Goodman, who on film shoots used to vamp to this. And I had such a crazy crush on her. I remember that one long laughing jag we had on that shoot out on Long Island (who’s film it was I can’t remember.. Wendy’s?). When we just tickled each other so strongly by something that was said. It was like an orgasm of laughter. I’ve seldom since had such an erotically charged laughing fit as that time…
I Say a Little Prayer – Aretha Franklin — This would belong to the body of songs that I associate with hearing on the radio while driving around in the little red car, Mercedes 280SL with mom. She was clearly beautiful and attractive to all who saw her in the neat little package. These voices on the radio was just beauty to me. I had no concept of where they came from, that they (nearly all) were black women. They were just unmediated joy, and it was all sort of wrapped up in maternal love too. This would be from my earliest memories,1969-1971.
Dreams – Fleetwood Mac. — Definitely takes me back to the period 1975-1979, listening to this on 8-track tapes. I totally associate with puberty, with West Meadow in Chester Springs. Reminds me a lot of Undine and Chris, with riding around on my bike with my friends, looking for beer cans, the Kimberton Fair etc.
God Give Me Strength – Burt Bacharach and Elvis Costello — I guess I heard this first in the film in which it was featured about the Motown woman composer? Anyway, beautiful blend of them both. Moving to me. ~1993-1997?
Killing Me Softly With His Song – Roberta Flack — Bigtime memories, see also “I Say a Little Prayer”. A black woman singing? Had no idea. It was just a purely unmediated voice. Only this one is much more tuned into the beginnings of libido I didn’t know what to do with. So powerful. This was so moving I felt the need to use it, in a lamely diegetic way, in the film I limpingly made in second year of film school, SATURDAY. The dad plays it on the radio as he heads to the assignation in the parking lot with the jilted lover. Really struggled for something there. When dad saw a cut of the film later that year, 1988?, he was mortified, and later said I had insulted my mother with it. Wow. Nearly forgot about that. See, that’s what music can do, make you remember stuff!
Poor People on TV – Julia Douglass — Of course this came into my life through the very loose acquaintance with Martin Kihn from college and Julia, his later girlfriend. They also all somehow later knew Jane and Henry and the Park Slope era gang. So this would date for me to 1990-1993. Her voice and lyrics, totally original to me. Such feeling and wit inseparable. Kind of a music crush.
Stand By Me – Ben E. King. — I remember feeling extremely lost when trying to orchestrate the cast and corral the story of SATURDAY in film school. I had made multiple field trips to PA to find young actors—including one cringing trip back to THE HILL… I finally found my actor via an ad, the son of a guy who had been Harrison Ford’s stunt double in Witness. Anyway, I was so tortured and ashamed while trying to pull this film together, and also feeling bereft for the usual reasons by the whole Kendall ongoing heartache. This song came on the radio as I waited in traffic about to enter the Holland Tunnel coming back into Manhattan from New Jersey. This would have been I guess then some time in the late summer of 1987? Anyway, I felt rescued by it. For what that’s worth!
Morning Dance – Spyro Gyra – Had this on 8-track tape, and was so excited to listen to it on my new stereo while at West Meadow., dating this to 1975-79. This was my first “jazz”. I can’t remember where it came from or who recommended it? It’s like dentist office music.. But there you have it. Maybe it related somehow to Chuck Mangione, which I also listened to that that time because he played trumpet, just like me! I remember taking to this to the Hill and listening to it there too..
Up, Up and Away – The 5th Dimension – Totally connected to my earliest memories, and of Valley Forge Elementary School, and Balloon Day!!! 1971-1975 Also my brother’s genius poem about balloons “Balloons, Balloons” that I so envied and could not figure how he could have pulled off something so genius. Anyway, totally 60s vibe, and of course so nostalgic for that uncomplicated, wholesome white bread, thing. Who knew anything more was needed?
Time of the Season – The Zombies – I came to this one later than you would think, but found it a PERFECT FIT for the anthem of my third first year film at NYU, PEARLS BEFORE SWINE, so named from the casting notice (get it!). Anyway, I must have listened to this a thousand times while I was editing it. That film was a class favorite that year, and I was much lauded. My high point!! It also told me, upon reflection, that ANY great piece of music can do that to a film. Flash-forward to Wes Anderson ad nauseum. Anyway, lots of nostalgia for it, the whole Kendall thing. What a fucked up saga that was.
Silver Bells – Bing Crosby – reminds me of Elm Court and the Butler years – 1976—1982. Everything about it seemed so Bedford Falls. Now, in 2020, Butler may have become a sort of Pottersville, with drug addiction, Trump conspiracy-mongers etc. It’s more a throwback to mid-20th century optimism and homogenization. Yet, still, I can’t deny I have a weakness for it. There’s something to America, after all..
It’s Tricky – Run DMC – This was all about one memory. Peter Gould’s goofy music video first year of film school. Fall of 1986. His theories of “mind-screening” whatever the hell that was. He was such a funny guy, pompous, but self-aware on some level too. Just a great guy. Whom few knew (including me) had been in a car accident before film school that left him prone to epileptic fits, controlled by medication. Apparently he lapsed on the medication and fell or asphyxiated and died in his bathroom a few years after film school. Very sad. He was, of all people in film school, the CONNECTOR, the wiseacre with a joke whom everyone knew. His dying really felt like it broke the connection between a lot of people.
Lucky Number – Lene Lovich — Totally from Mark and what his friends were listening to as freshman at Dartmouth, which would have been 1980.. I listened to all their music, including the Talking Heads. It was pretty much the beginning of my acquaintance with popular music. Total libido trigger…
Sara Smile — Hall & Oates — Well, Hall & Oates were from Butler, but I didn’t know that. This song was just a sort of background song on the radio at some point—the late 70s, early 80s? I should look it up. It got a lot more gravity when Ted Montgomery here at Ten Stones chose it for Sara’s memorial ~2012?, sung by John Gilmore (I think that was his name, local singer with bell-like delivery and chops). Beautiful song.
Abracadabra – Steve Miller Band — Ok, this song is deeply shameful for me to hear. It’s totally connected with my final summer at Elm Court, before going to Yale. We had, through mom’s cousin Ben and Anne in Paris, this young French girl come stay with us. And she was pretty! I was so horny I couldn’t see straight and made the moves on her, repeatedly, and was brushed off repeatedly! At movie theaters, outside her bedroom window, the whole thing. It was horrid!! What can I say, I was NOT in control. This would have been the summer of 1982.
Skyway – The Replacements — Associated totally with Scott Eichelson (sp?) my too cool suite-mate asshole on Second Avenue in 1987. Maybe also somehow with Paul Federbush, a better association…. Anyway, great song, and I think of it whenever I drive by (or used to, is it still there) the Pulaski Skyway, that hulking TRex of rust sticking out about the toxic landscape of New Jersey slouching across the Hudson from NYC.
1999 – Prince — Our probably most rousing dance tune from our wedding. Really got people out on the floor! When? October 2, 1999!
Celia – Simon & Garfunkel — Totally a sexual awakening song, at a VERY young age. Like somewhere in the 1971-1975 era. (So I’m 7-11 years old). I remember thinking strongly about my friend Kyle Radakker’s sister (whose name may have been something VERY like Celia) who greeted us in her bathrobe when I was sleeping over at his house. She was probably, 13 or 14? Anyway, wet hair, white robe, pouty lips. Totally hot. Could NOT drive the thought of her out of my head. And this also fused in the HUGE obsession I discovered, and other followed, for Lois Bingham at school. And mind you this was in the days BEFORE masturbation was something known or its mechanics even fathomed…so that stuff just simmered, painfully and with beautiful undirected purpose. The song EXACTLY spoke to it somehow.
Prologue – Tango Apasionada – Astor Piazzola – File this under, music that Deborah Magosci brought into my life and that I ran with. A whole new tango world that talks to me of illicit love and fall leaves at night, verve and mastery, Halloweenish? Sexiness, great volumes of unplumbed space to occupy with one’s dreams, and that those dreams are valid because they have blood and wisdom coursing through them.
12/28/20
If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out – Cat Stevens — I guess this meaningful from Harold & Maude. But more deeply it connects back to Undine and I think Millstream or Gulph Mills (1970-1974)
Beautiful Boy – John Lennon – Used to listen to this along with all Lennon in my despondent years re: Kendall ~1987-1993. So much wanted that sweetness and harmony, that projected bliss. Midway between missing the dream of family, and missing out on the perfect dream of starting one.
Call Me – Blondie – I guess this takes me back to late high school? ~1980-1982. Awkwardness, longing. Maybe something about LA, or my feeling of what LA must be like. Maybe that impression came later? Deborah Harry always something an alien to me.
Un Enfant – Jacques Brel – This was on our turntable constantly Sophomore and Junior years (1983-85), as Robert loved it. Like most songs, I seldom listen to the words, just the feeling of the words. In this song, the longing, the tenderness, its pauses. In some sense, Jacques Brel represents an idealized France. Not exactly at odds with the one I knew, but not inconsistent with it.
Let Me Count the Ways – Yoko Ono & John Lennon – see also “Beautiful Boy”. This was the idealized love I wasn’t getting. Listened to mostly in 1987. It’s why I chose it to begin “Pearls Before Swine” (and end it?). This humble voice. This essential thing. That’s all I wanted, to the exclusion of all else.
Every Breath You Take – The Police— This song now makes me sad, as it reminds me of the summer of ’83 when George and I stayed in New Haven painting houses. On the radio it was really the anthem of that summer. All I could think of that hot dry lonely summer was Amanda Barhite, on whom I had a devastating crush. We played this cassette non-stop, and I remember it begin covered with drips of white paint in the course of our one and only ill-fated job painting the home of Dr. Petrelli’s mother somewhere just out of town. What a fiasco. George and I would get uproarious about this years later. What inept clowns we were as college Freshmen.
L’Ostendaise – Jacques Brel — see also other Jacques Brel stuff, like “Un Enfant”. Same thing.
1/2/2021
Mr. Jones – The Talking Heads — This pegs directly to my scouting locations for the second big film I made in film school, “Saturday”. Playing in the car on long trips, fall nights. Heading back to Chester Springs. Trying to do something meaningful to pry myself away from the ruin of that Kendall relationship. Feeling like the music and drive of the Talking Heads was helping. I also associate this with Rae C. Wright, in light of the years-later fling. Again, I hardly every listen to the lyrics—it’s my soundtrack, underlying my stream of impressions and thoughts. The same phenomenon for most people, I assume.
Satellite – Elvis Costello – This I associate most strongly with being in a tent in some craggy campground, maybe in Montana? It was during my bike trip summer of 1993, at a point when I wasn’t biking with anyone. Near Yellowstone? It was a spacious uneven terrain. I probably wrote about it in the bike trip journal. I was shivering in my tent, listening to this on cassette tape (the whole album, Spike, in fact) overhearing some happy family activities in tents that were somewhat near. Wondered to myself whether I would ever have that. Longing.. a recurring theme!
I Want You – Elvis Costello — The devastating crash of rejection and its pathology. The dire thought that if only the ardor could be perfectly expressed it would win over its object. Stewed in this sentiment for months and months, intermittently for years? Violence never once occurred to me, but it seems like if I had been just a slightly different person, who knows?. That’s the undercurrent of the song.. ~1987-1988.
With or Without You – U2 — This song reminds me of time spent with George, who really liked U2. I think he put this in one of his super-8s. I grafted it onto the crush on Amanda Barhite. Summer of ’83, maybe the Olympic summer in LA?
Closer to Fine – Indigo Girls — Strong memories of listening to this over and over as we drove to TX to make what was later to be called “Picture This” late summer/fall of ’89?. Reminds me of the filming of that and of course most strongly of the beginning relationship with Deb Magocsi. Mad trips to Dallas—exhausting, confused ardor. Her manic passion that was just frying to me on some level, yet I was still very much attached (and would be for a few years more). I was also trying to put together “Park Tragedy”, the filming of which took place the next summer? ’90 was it? I’d have think through it.
Vesoul – Jacques Brel — This eponymous song of the album somehow most intrigued me. I connect it with my time in France, but BEFORE being there, when I was kid still dreaming about it. But I think I didn’t even become aware of the album until years later, at college. Anyway, the speed-lyrics, the frenzy. Very catchy and sweeps me up in that cosmopolitan something.
Back on the Chain Gang — Pretenders — I’m pretty sure this was on the tape Kendall made for me—or that I made from songs Kendall had? Fall of 1987 It was right in there at the heart of that obsession…It represented the savvy she had that I couldn’t even “pretend” to. Sexual savvy, relationships, ironies..that eluded and attracted me.
Clair de Lune – Debussy — This was on a piano roll that we had at Elm Court, the ones that played in the piano expressly, pressed by the actual performers, and sometimes the composers themselves. Mom also played a rudimentary version of this I think. Not sure if Undine ever did, but I’m sure she could have easily, as she had Fantaisie Impromptu down! 1979-1982..
Main Title. (Love is A Song that Never Ends) from “Bambi” — Such a primal love feeling that goes right back to my first memories. Everything opening up, everything mysterious and urgent and light and large, and there, like wet leaves to be brushed through revealing something tender—a mama thing, a tingling generative thing—not yet sex, but exciting.
Rocky Mountain High – John Denver. — Just joy and possibility. Reminds me of when Mark took up the guitar and tried to sing! I guess this dates mostly to Millstream (1971-1975). The world of adults that it conjures, solid, mysterious, to be anticipated eagerly. What will I become? Will I discover what John Denver discovered? Or am I discovering it already through this song? When Denver later appeared in “Oh God” with George Burns, that wholesome image was somehow burnished in a totally innocent and authentic way. Always brings up the sadness of his dying in a plane crash. I don’t know when that was, but it seems his sensibility didn’t make into the 1980s..
Irish Boy – Mark Knopfler (from the film CAL) — This is right up there with the music from soundtracks that just thoroughly absorbed me. Something about love in winter, walking home in the blue, slushy tracks, anticipating the loving embrace. I only learned decades later (at age 50!) That the playing was partly uilleann pipes and none other than Liam O’Flynn! Casting his spell purely through the music. The whistle too. Beautiful beautiful track. THe internet tells me this movie came out in 1984, which means I probably saw it at the York Square movie theater in college as a first-run, so I’d areadly decided on film.
Comment Tuer L’Amant de Sa Femme — Jacques Brel — see also, the other Jacques Brel comments..
1/3/2021
Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying – Rickie Lee Jones — reminds me of Deb Magocsi, who introduced me to RLJ. Reminds me of that apartment on Hoyt St? Or Nevins? That her friend whom the director John Boorman left his wife for (Stephanie?) was being basically squatted in by Deb and Rick Putnam. What a weird weak time of my life. Totally under her thumb, desperate, unhappy. 1989-1990. This was right before Jane, the relationship springing out of the film in 1990.
Big Yellow Taxi — Joni Mitchell. —- quite a pentimento over this one, so I can’t really remember where I first heard it, but probably from Kendall, as I know “Chelsea Morning” was definitely on music I got/compiled from her.. so 1987..
I Never Talk to Strangers – Bette Midler/Tom Waits — definitely reminds me of Jane, who was really into Tom Waits. This also reminds me, strangely of “One from the Heart” because of Waits and his music in it. Anyway, Park Slope, living out the end of my time with Jane at 215 Garfield Place, 2nd floor… ~1990-1993..
We’re in This Love Together – Al Jarreau — one of my first 8-track tapes. Don’t know where I’d heard it or why I got it, but I feel that it was among the first albums that I chose as opposed to hand-me-down music. Must have been big on the radio. I think by the time I got to Hill I was very embarrassed by it. ~1976-1978.
O-o-h Child – The Five Stairsteps — This was in a film, Spike Lee film?, or maybe Boyz n the Hood? Totally hooked me, a latecomer.
Puff, the Magic Dragon – Peter, Paul & Mary — earliest memory stuff. 1969-1975. Gulf Mills and Millstream. Such a pre-sexual crush on Mary Travers. My oh my. Inexhaustible mystery and beauty. This was on the 8-track tape we would have playing over and over on trips to the Jersey Shore.
I Love My Baby — Joan Armatrading — On my flattened futon at 19 St. Marks Place, living with Roger Miner, I would try to shut out the world with my walkman and grieve the rejection from Kendall. This was probably the most direct and sorrowful expression of it. I would cry and cry to this song, inwardly if Roger was in the room, or outwardly if just me in the apartment. I may have become aware of Armatrading from Kendall— yes it was the album “Track Record”. Which made it even more powerful and effective. I wallowed in this for months and months… 1987-1988
Sugar, Sugar – The Archies — This takes me back to Gulph Mills, and Undine’s friends. I remember we went to a friend (of hers?) named Melanie and I think they had one of those raised pools. Something, like sunburn or summer fever colors the memory. But it was definitely one of those forays into the world beyond the one I knew (which was the house, at home) that made an impression. 1969-1970.
Come On-A My House – Rosemary Clooney — Kendall all the way, and that first affair of my life in her “house”. It was her house at 369 Bergen Street, 2nd floor, where it all happened for me for the first time. The weird cloistered emotional/sexual confusion was teased out and blossomed into a thing I worshipped, and lost within weeks of finding it. My first little tragedy. Huge for me. I lost interest in everything that wasn’t this relationship. It would save or wreck me. It was totally I-Thou, as I would later learn, and yet…not. Crazy attachment like I’d never known—or never had consummated, I guess.
1/5/2021
Into the Mystic – Van Morrison — I guess we listened to this a lot while living at 215 Garfield, Paul Federbush, Mark Edgington and I (1988-1991, before Mark moved out and Jane moved in..) but I most associate it with the dalliance with Rae C. Wright while I was living at 5th avenue and 19th Street (above “Non-Stop Discounts”) in that weird indeterminate neighborhood skirting Greenwood Cemetery. You could hardly name the neighborhood “Greenwood Cemetery”…. I remember playing a lot of Van Morrison and fantasizing about Rae, and then, wildly improbably, consummating that crush—something I never dreamed could happen. But then immediately having misgivings. And this happened a number of times. This would have been 1992-93, so just before the relationship with Ellen Binder. I think I associated the Caravan song with Rae’s “New York Street Theater Caravan” that I guess had been active in the 80s (or even late 70s?). [Internet check—MUCH MUCH longer, from the 60s. Marketa Kimbrell, who was at NYU was its founder, and I found that Rae donated their archives to the NYPL..] Kind of touring troupe of actors living out their dreams. I never knew much about it, but it threw off something that resonated with me through Rae. Plus, that address I lived at for those years, enormous 4000 sq ft space, former furniture warehouse from what felt like a century ago, had also been the temporary home of Julian Beck & Judith Malina’s “Living Theater” so that also connected with me. It was sort of a locus of art, in feeling. There was also the fact that my very bedroom (constructed with sheetrock into the space off the kitchen, had been used just prior to me by the roommate (labor activist, can’t remember her name)’ friend, Ani Di Franco, whom I knew had achieved some alt-music icon status, although I never listened much to her music. Anyway, the Van Morrison, played over those huge hung concert speakers in the living room, courtesy of our illegally subletting landlord, Burl Hash, who had originally had them for the Prospect Park bandshell, would just fill the room and delight me.
I Just Called to Say I Love You — Stevie Wonder — This reminds me strongly of Tim Vasen during Junior year at Yale, because he had let me use his red moped and I would head out to Lighthouse Point on it, incredible mobility all of a sudden for me at college, and somehow listening to this song connects with that. How? I have no idea. Was there a Walkman yet, back then? A part of me also associates this song with Montserrat and that curly-headed woman from Panama, and trying to dance at the dance club in Plymouth—endlessly awkward and lost. What a weird episode that was. ~1989?
The Weakness in Me – Joan Armatrading — see also “I Love My Baby”. Same connotations, same love-wracked feelings. Except here the love triangle was explicit. There is something here about the “I-Thou” that if only I could bring to something created, would leave me totally fulfilled as having produced something imperishably valuable. Can I do that?
Senses Working Overtime — XTC — probably listened to it mostly after moving in with Paul Federbush and Ana Josenhans in 1988 in Caroll Gardens, but I think also had it in my head a lot while living with Scott Eichelson, Stephanie Berry & Roy Peabody on 2nd avenue between 4th and 5th streets in the East Village. That horrible year—“log-rolling” I used to call it, not being able to stay in one place for long. I had left 15 Washington Place after being kicked out by Frank Tancredi, the neurotic emaciated painter for NYU, pulled a number off a phone and ended up with Roger Miner on St. Marks Place between 1st and 2nd Aves. Can’t remember why I left there, probably just wanted to get out. This arrangement on 2nd avenue coincided with full-blown Kendall grief. Completely stuck and miserable. This was the period I drew on when writing the screenplay “Knowing She Would”, that and my first months in NYC working at the restaurant. This would have been then definitely 1987. Coincidentally, that was also the time of the Anita Hill-Clarence Thomas debacle, and I remember was the first time I’d become aware of Joe Biden, as he squirmed through how to put questions to Thomas about allegations of “Long Dong Silver” and pubic hair on soda glasses (or something). It seemed incredible that a member of Congress was even talking about such stuff. [Just checked this on the internet. Something’s not jibing, as the Anita Hill hearing wasn’t til 1991. This would’ve been after I was already living with Paul and Jane at 215 Garfield? So was it Iran-Contra I was watching chez Eichelman/Berry/Peabody? Yes, it appears it was. Oliver North and his Alfred E. Newman grin 24/7. At the time I had little to no interest in anything political. A political naif! Surprisingly so. I remember until I met Kendall I couldn’t have even really articulated what made a Democrat different from a Republican. And somehow I went to Yale?] My oh my how innocent we were of the future to come. And at the time, my mantra was how horrendous the 1980s were, and that I couldn’t wait for them to be over, as if there would be some better reset come 1990…
2/2/2021
My Best Friend’s Girl – The Cars — I guess this dates to somewhere in early high school.. So ~1980. Heady sexual stuff.. But also an element of something scarily grotesque to me.
Scenes from an Italian Restaurant – Billy Joel — Like all early Billy Joel, this takes me right back to 3rd and 4th form at the Hill School, so I guess 1978-1979. It just made me aware of this world of New York (Long Island?) and this emerging sophisticated sexual stuff that was entirely percolating through me. I know that later Billy Joel is considered a joke, and he’s too obvious etc, but this early stuff is so lyrical and urgent and (maybe) unironic? that it went straight to the psyche of a 14-16 yr old, especially one anxious and fearful about his status in this new school. Feeling like I was somehow part of the “elect” to even be in this school, I desperately needed self-affirmation. This first exposure to something passionate and maybe suave (?), who knew any better? It was just the thing. Also spoke the loneliness I felt at mom and dad’s violently disintegrating marriage. This song in particular, with his epic recounting of a romance and aftermath, kind of hit home…
Free Bird — Lynyrd Skynyrd — Ok, this was of course the anthem of every dance I attended as a teenager, especially those royally awkward dances devised by the Hill School with girls schools. So, 1978-80. It was always the last song, and it went on forever. I especially remember the heat of the girl Peggy…from (Emma Willard?) who really had a thing for me. How she clinged to me, and I was overcome with mostly revulsion and tiny bit of desire. The pressure to dance for the last dance, feeling like a coward not to. I think I actually went to one away dance (probably at Emma Willard) and there was Peggy, broad forehead, frizzy reddish hair, maybe some kind of girly perfume. The hot sweaty hand that wouldn’t let go. She was clearly smart, and a sympathetic soul, and yet, I just couldn’t.. Something repelled me, and I was super conscious of being seen by others and made fun of for being with her. Craven memories! It’s not like this was the first glimmer of attraction at a dance. Years before Hill there was Junior Capers dance class held at Valley Forge Elementary, so I was all of 12? And the real attraction I had to Laura Strenk. Silky blouse, my hand on her back, her shoulder blade. Doing the fox trot. Age 12! No one can accuse me of having an underdeveloped libido.