Even if I can't set off on my epic 14,000 mile cross-country drive this summer, it would still be an ideal time for a road trip of some sort, seeing as a monumental solar event is expected to take place, and seeing as I have a specific childhood memory related to it:
There was a solar eclipse on February 26, 1979, my kindergarten year. It was not a total eclipse where I was, but it was visible enough for our class to be called to the south-facing windows of the school to view with those cardboard box contraptions, called sunscopes, which 'project' an image of the eclipse through a pinhole. I can recall being amazed and excited by the concept of darkness during the day (I still am...), and even more so by the teacher informing us, as we each took a turn putting our head inside that box, that we would all be forty-four years old the next time something like this occurred.
I'm not sure how she knew this, she must have consulted some kind of almanac, but she actually named our future age, seemingly right off the top of her head, and her exact words ("forty-four") have stayed with me all these years. They were my introduction to the concept of myself as something other than what I saw in the mirror. I can recall - quite vividly - being able to picture myself as a grown-up, viewing an eclipse in an otherwise completely unimaginable future.
Sure enough, her prediction was right on the money. A total solar eclipse will indeed take place on August 21, 2017, and I will be forty-four years old, just as Mrs. Leciejewski said.
And who knows...with any luck, on the road somewhere.
The 1979 event dealt just a glancing blow to northern Wisconsin. The path of totality - that relatively narrow track of the moon's shadow that gets plunged into total darkness for a few minutes - swept through Washington State, Idaho and Montana, but then swung northward toward the arctic. But this time, it will sweep straight through the middle of the country. According to Wikipedia, the longest duration of total darkness will occur in Shawnee National Forest, south of Carbondale, Illinois.
February 26, 1979 - A total solar eclipse's path of totality (in blue) delivered a glancing blow only to the extreme northwestern states, but the event was partially visible through the south-facing windows of little ol' Beaser Elementary School in Ashland, Wisconsin....on the shore of Lake Superior. ;-)
Animation Courtesy of Andrew Sinclair http://web.archive.org/web/20080121012947/http://members.aol.com/eclsat3
August 21, 2017 - A total solar eclipse will sweep straight through the center of the U.S., with the "path of totality" being visible in a number of states, from west coast to east coast.
Images courtesy of Eclipse Predictions by Fred Espenak, NASA's GSFC - http://eclipse.gsfc.nasa.gov/.
It's only going to last less than three minutes, but what a potent show it's going to be. And how cool would it be if I were on the road somewhere, living nebulously, when it occurs?
But honestly, how cool would it be to view even if I'm not actually on 1/48/50, even if August 21 turns out to be just any old Monday? The eclipse will be visible from all over, but I really like the thought of viewing it from somewhere in the path of totality. I might just take a mini-road trip, if I can. I'm only nine hours from Carbondale, Illinois.
I could drive that in my sleep.
If I'm going to do it, however, I better make arrangements now...or be prepared to sleep in my car.
#217) "It's All Over But the Crying" by Hank Williams Jr. - Recorded in 1968, "It's All Over But the Crying" pre-dates the "Bocephus" persona that distinguished Hank Jr. in no uncertain terms from his father, whom Nashville was hell-bent (hell bound?) on forcing the younger Williams to look and sound exactly like for most of the 1960s.
It's not surprising that he wanted to shake all that off and establish himself as an artist in his own right, but there's something to be said - a lot, actually - for the old country music sound, as thin and clear as the AM band it was broadcast over in the days when that's all there was. It possesses none of the aggressive flair and flash pumping out of FM "Hot Country" radio today...it's really kind of an acquired taste, at this point. But it also doesn't inadvertently stereotype itself, as so many modern artists do by going out of their way to prove to the world how "country" or "southern" they are....it just kind of exists, a reflection of ordinary people, in ordinary towns, living ordinary lives fraught with joy, sorrow and turmoil. Honestly, it could be said classic country music is as much "folk music" as anything...which, in a way, makes "It's All Over But the Crying" a great road trip song, as the best road trips, the important ones at least, journey through the ordinary lives of ordinary people. "It sounded so true when you said I love you / Now I'll say my good-byin', cause it's all over but the crying..." #218) "Montana Cafe" by Hank Williams Jr. - This song is from the Hank Jr. era most people associate with him, the sunglasses, beard and bluster, but it's slower-paced, introspective, and illustrates his range as an artist, which too often gets overlooked. I like the sentiment a lot...the idea of escaping to a simpler life somewhere that almost seems like a simpler time and place...and I've always kept it a part of the ideal existence I maintain in my mind, and hope one day to get to.
A Montana Cafe still exists in the town of Darby. I'm not sure if it's the exact one Hank Jr. sang about in 1986...it does indeed seem to be "off Highway 93", but I think it may have been closed for a time, then re-opened under new ownership. In any case, it gets high marks on sites like Trip Advisor. Definitely a potential way point on 1/48/50. Hopefully it hasn't become too touristy and gimmicky.
Although who knows, maybe it was touristy and gimmicky when Hank Jr. was there (and Ernest Hemingway and Teddy Roosevelt, so the song goes...). Still worth a look. I suspect there's a lot in Montana, and out west in general, worth a look. "I'm so glad I reached this point in my life, I finally got my priorities right / And I'm way out here, on the Idaho line..."
#215) "All My Rowdy Friends (Have Settled Down)" by Hank Williams Jr. - Born of country music royalty, Hank Williams Jr. probably wouldn't want to hear this, but I think as an artist he has far outpaced his famous (and deservedly legendary) father, and I give him props for the personal demons and the stigmatization he overcame to get where he is. He's not the son of Hank Williams, he's Bocephus. Whether you like his music, it cannot be denied he's an American original, a living legend in his own right, and that doesn't often happen to the children of legends.
As the years have passed, Hank Jr. has found a political voice, like a lot of artists. Ultimately, of course, that's fine. That's what being an American ("original" or otherwise) is all about. But personally, I don't like when artists get political and start shooting off at the mouth. To be clear, it doesn't matter if their views are conservative or liberal, I don't like the distraction of knowing how they're going to vote, or how they'd prefer I vote, when I'm trying to dig on their music.
There was a time when "All My Rowdy Friends (Have Settled Down)" was easily applicable to my own life, and when I listen, I simply want to remember being twenty-five, standing on the precipice between young adulthood and...not middle age, but something else...pre-middle age...and realizing, with some shock, that everyone I know has or is about to leave the college years behind, get on a career path, get married and start having children, and that I'm seconds from being left behind, becoming "that guy" who has nothing going on. Not to mention the disillusionment that comes with realizing that despite what you dreamed about in the days and months and years leading up to turning twenty-one, the bar scene is actually pretty lame, and becomes exponentially sadder (as in pathetic) with each year that passes, once you start crowding thirty.
It's a unique milestone in life, with a unique set of emotions. And it doesn't really matter who the president is when it's happening, or whether it's happening in a red state or a blue state.
"And the hangovers hurt more than they used / And corn bread and ice tea's took the place of pills and 90 proof / And it seems that none of us do things quite like we used to do..."
#216) "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues" by Danny O'Keefe - Another song about trying to stay young too long and allowing time to slip from your grasp, "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues" takes a more somber approach. In fact, no other song I've ever listened to better exemplifies the experience I had as a young adult in my hometown, or captures the quiet but potent angst of a small town Sunday afternoon (and all that that implies).
I lived in the perfect town for that angst to be especially acute. It's gotten better in recent years, but twenty years ago, my hometown was locked in the glacial ice of despair, a thirty-year hangover separating it from the "good times", which, when they ended, left not a lot in the way of jobs or opportunity. For a few years, from about age 22 to 25, I was lost, schlepping through the despairing days and nights, bumping from one dead end job to another, where my path would cross the paths of other losers who hadn't bothered to go to school, and were exiting the "college years" in name only...
For a better explanation of what my town was like, and a sense of how significant "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues" was (and why), CLICK HERE
I've grown up since then, snapped out of my malaise by refusing to let despair turn into self-pity, but this song still haunts me, for what could have been, and was for a short while. "You know my heart keeps telling me, you're not a kid at thirty-three..."
I know...I know...this sort of thing is really supposed to improve our lives, and our safety, yadda, yadda, I get it...
But what I can't get is on board. Just can't do it. To me, everything about robots and cyborgs and the like is unnerving, and putting ourselves in a position where we're depending on their artificial intelligence in any way, for any reason, seems perverse, like something from an apocalyptic movie.
#213) "Tug of War" by Paul McCartney - I know I've said this a couple of times now, but once more, Macca (uhh, yeah...about that) demonstrates that when he wants to drive an emotionally charged point home, take a break from the silly loves songs everyone has come to expect from the "cute Beatle", he's damn good at it. "Tug of War" is the title track off Sir Paul's (definitely a more appropriate nickname) most emotional album (from 1981), and not surprisingly, it contains one of the most potent lines in music for my money, reflecting, I'd be willing to bet, his state of mind in the immediate aftermath of John Lennon's murder.
And (the point being) also accurately reflecting anyone's state of mind in any kind of "aftermath"... "In years to come, they may discover what the air we breathe and the live we lead are all about / But it won't be soon enough, soon enough for me..." #214) "The Entertainer" by Billy Joel - I've always thought Billy Joel gets a bad rap, unfairly maligned (at least by music snobs) as a pop music sell-out to a street cred early in his career that was itself not entirely legitimate, mostly just "gangs that dance"...
But even if that's true (and I don't know that it is), he's still one of the greatest songwriters of the twentieth century. Like McCartney (maybe even a little more so), Joel is a true crafter of music. Over the years he has written and recorded countless durable ditties that never become too dated, and also reveal a far-reaching range of musicianship and vocal ability. He tries different things, different styles, and - more often than not - succeeds in getting them to sound really good.
Among the standouts on his long hit list is 1974's "The Entertainer", a sharply satirical indictment of the music industry that is just as relevant now as it was 40 years ago. If anything, things have only gotten worse, much worse, as symbolism has replaced substance, image has replaced artistry, and an undeniably lazy approach to pop music has eroded the original heart of the art form down to a barely discernible nub that is no longer freeing or enlightening or emboldening, but too often a prescription for conformity.
This song alone would seem a prime example of how drastically things have changed. It hit #34 on the U.S. Charts in 1974, but with its minstrel guitar and plunking banjo, would be unlikely to even chart today.
Top 40 music seems to be populated mostly by "entertainers" these days, rather than artists.
"I am the entertainer, and I know just where I stand, another serenader, and another long-haired band / Today I am your champion, I may have won your hearts / But I know the game and you'll forget my name, and I won't be here in another year if I don't stay on the charts..."
#209) "Cycles" by Frank Sinatra - About as far away as can be imagined from what people think of when they hear the name "Sinatra", "Cycles" is the title track from a 1968 album of cover songs, some of which have appeared on this list by other artists.
Make no mistake, this is not 1940s/50s crooner Frankie, or Frankie ringa-dinga-lingin' with his Rat Pack buddies and complement of cuckoo broads. "Cycles" doesn't have the flair or flash, or the energy, to get that job done. And to its credit, it doesn't seem to care. What the song does instead, in my opinion, is reveal Sinatra the artist, the consummate interpreter of music. All music.
"Cycles" is a soft-spoken (and for this, moving) testament to the life we all must endure sometimes, gentle reassurance in moments of hardship, anguish, frustration and fear that things are going to be all right, that indeed, "after winter, comes the spring..." Sinatra makes you believe that he believes, and that's what being a "consummate interpreter of music" is all about.
Not much more needs to be said, really...nothing that the album cover doesn't say, before a single word is even sung:
"I've been many places, maybe not as far as you / So I think I'll stay a while, and see if some dreams some true..."
#210) "Rag Doll" by Aerosmith - Arguably one of the greatest rock and roll bands of all time, Aerosmith has a unique claim to having been icons of the 1970s before fading away almost to oblivion, then coming back and achieving icon status in the late 80s and early 90s, producing music throughout both periods that never seems dated. Whether you like it, you have to admit, most of it sounds just as fresh and urgent as the day it was recorded.
They achieved this, in part, by creating a unique sound, something just a little different, with a flair nobody else rockin' big hair and spandex at the time had, a style nobody else would (dare) try on for size. "Rag Doll" is a perfect example of the band's ability to think outside the box, and do nothing less than reinvent the rock and roll business model.
Who the hell else could"Rag Doll" be, but Aerosmith? "Rag doll, livin' in a movie / Hot tramp, daddy's little cutie..."
#211) "Back in the Saddle" by Aerosmith - Not quite as outside the box as "Rag Doll", 1977's "Back in the Saddle" still tears it up and spits it out, and in that uniquely Aerosmith fashion. It's not merely hard rock, and it's surely not half-baked "hair metal"...it's an oddly potent brew, the sounds you hear rumbling from behind the bulwark of the male psyche, with just a wisp of the frantic overcompensation most men are disposed to, even if they never admit it.
In a word, "Back in the Saddle" is the motherfucker. The bass line bounces off the walls of that bulwark, manages to escape, and starts smashing windows around the neighborhood...and Steven Tyler's voice, man...for my money, nobody even comes close.
Who the hell else could sing "Back in the Saddle", but Steven Tyler? "I'm calling all the shots tonight, I'm like a loaded gun..."
#212) "Pink" by Aerosmith - See #210 and #211....
Who the hell else could "Pink" be, but Aerosmith? 😉
"Pink, it's my new obsession, pink, it's not even a question / Pink on the lips of your lover, 'cause pink is the love you discover..."
#207) "The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul" by XTC - From an intense album (Skylarking - 1987), comes an intense scorcher of a song, a true collaboration between music and lyrics to create not just a piece of music, but an experience (similar to the best of Prince's work).
This could really be said about the entire album. XTC had already been around for a while by '87, but Skylarking sent them over the top, gave them that sought-after mainstream success. Were their talent not met halfway by Todd Rundgren's competent production, this album might have faded into the cauldron of derivative Beatles-esque neo-psychedelia popping up at the time.
Actually, on second thought, I don't know if that's entirely true. It might be more accurate to say Rundgren's production enhanced - perhaps sewed together, or punctuated - singer Andy Partridge and band mate Colin Moulding's already burgeoning musical vision. They were the songwriters, after all, the genesis.
Either way, Skylarking is fucking fantastic. The aforementioned collaboration of music and lyrics is well-matched to Partridge's vocal delivery, and will find a listener in just about anyone, and keep them, because this music is not feckless, floppy dribble, not "hippies" dancing in circles, and that's what makes it so good. It's emotionally charged, angry, sometimes frightening, even, in its revelations...humorous too, at moments, but never without the cutting edge of snark.
The off-the hook percussion, the romping, jazz-infused melody, the lyrics serving as a kind of universal indictment of human flaws and frailty, all conspire to make "The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul" the best musical ambassador for the album. In the song's closing moments, the listener is led on a finger-snapping stroll through the dark woods of consciousness, to one revealing, and horrifying, final three seconds.
Wait for it...wait for it...
"The man who sailed around his soul, from East to West, from pole to pole / With ego as his drunken captain, Greed, the mutineer, had trapped all reason in the hold."
#208) "Gentle On My Mind" by Glen Campbell - One of the new American standards that has been covered by countless artists over the years, Glen Campbell's version of "Gentle On My Mind" does the song the most justice, in my opinion. Very "of the time" in which it was written and recorded, it just sounds like afternoon sunshine, although truthfully, it was probably kind of edgy in the late 1960s, for country music at least, addressing divorce and the relief that follows it, and suggesting that marriage may not only be not ideal, but not all that necessary.
It's sad that country music doesn't sound like this anymore. That is, not at all. Today, the genre has become largely a breeding ground for carefully prescribed stereotypes that seem almost unwittingly self-mocking, and leave little room for anything outside the box.
What better "road song" is there, really? What more do or can we expect from a road trip, then for everything to become gentle on the mind, everything to sound like afternoon sunshine?
"I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face, and the summer sun might burn me till I'm blind / But not to where I cannot see you walkin' on the back roads, by the rivers flowin' gentle on my mind..."
#205) "Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)" by The Offspring - One of the best bands to come out of the 1990s (although they actually date back to the 80s), The Offspring always struck me as an edgier version of Weezer. Same kind of funny and offbeat music, but more intense. There is a sharpness to both The Offspring's sound and subject matter. It is as much social commentary as entertainment.
To that end, it's not at all a surprise, really, that lead singer and songwriter Dexter Holland is now a doctoral student in molecular biology. You can just tell, in all of his songs, that he's no dummy, no typical rock and roller, that is, the "hoodlum" that has been terrifying parents in one form or another since the 1950s.
Nowhere is this more evident than in "Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)". This song cracks me up, which ultimately is what it's supposed to do. But it's also painfully accurate. I KNEW a kid like this once... a lily white dude, hailing from west-central Wisconsin, he would swagger into work with his hat sideways and his pants low, muttering black slang so carefully considered and clumsily interjected into conversations, I'd have sworn he took an "Ebonics" course through Rosetta Stone.
No kidding, he actually had "Thug Life" tattooed on his skinny little white arm.
He even looked like the kid in this video. There were times looking at him, listening to him, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Which also, I'd venture, is the point of this song.
"So if you don't rate, just overcompensate / At least you know you can always go on Ricki Lake..."
#206) "Come Out and Play" by The Offspring - See all of the above, only instead of a humorous look at white posers, "Come Out and Play" is a more intense examination of gang life in teen culture, from more than twenty years ago now. That fact alone is sort of hard to believe.
Both songs...all of The Offspring's music, really - belongs on a road trip. "The Kids Aren't Alright", "Self-Esteem"....great stuff. Holland's got a killer voice, as well.
"Your never-ending spree of death and violence and hate, is gonna tie your own rope, tie your own rope, tie your own..."
#203) "Rainy Night in Georgia" by Brook Benton - I first heard this song when I was in high school, and I legitimately liked it, but I also went out of my way to tell everyone I liked it, in an effort to make myself look musically complex, or sophisticated, or something or other. I didn't know who the hell Brook Benton was, knew only that the song was unique, mood-creating, and thus mood-altering, and most importantly, wasn't just another hair-metal song.
Now, years later, I still really, really like it. It's a sensually beautiful song, painting a dimly-lit but still vivid picture of not just a rainy night in Georgia, but a rainy night in the soul wherever you are, a moment when, indeed, it does feel like it's raining all over the world. Oddly perfect road song, actually. "A distant moaning of a train, seems to play a sad refrain to the night..." #204) "Little Green Apples" by O.C. Smith - This song is just a simple dimple on the musical landscape. It doesn't go anywhere, doesn't say anything important, doesn't push any musical boundaries or expand any horizons...but it too succeeds in simply setting a potent mood, and it has one of the most beautiful lines I've ever heard in a song.
"And if that's not loving me, then all I gotta say / God didn't make little green apples, and it don't rain in Indianapolis, in the summertime..."
It don't rain in Indianapolis in the summertime... has probably ignited more wanderlust in my heart than all the blustery highway freedom songs ever recorded. Ironic, since the song is actually about there being no reason to want to be somewhere else other than right where you are. The guy in the song seems pretty damn content. Pretty in love. Good for him.
But anyway, about Indianapolis...
"God didn't make little green apples / And it don't snow in Minneapolis when the winter comes..." Make sure to vote on Tuesday!
#201) "If You Don't Know Me by Now" by Simply Red - To be perfectly honest, the original 1972 version of this song by Harold Melvin and The Blue Notes, with Teddy Pendergrass tearing it up vocally, is the better version. Downright gorgeous, in fact. But I prefer Simply Red's interpretation on account of when it was released - the summer of 1989, when I was sixteen years old. That was a true summer of firsts for me - first with a driver's license, my own car, staying up and out all night, first time for a lot of things teenagers experience as rites of passage (including horrendous acne...but I choose not to remember that ;-).
Not only do I think Mike Hucknall's reliable crooning does the original justice, but it was the first time I ever heard a song on the radio and felt it was telling my story in real time. Sure, I had plenty of songs placed on the newly burgeoning "soundtrack of my life" by then, but all of those were rooted in teenage fantasies - overly dramatized and highly idealized mental illustrations of how I felt things should have been, or at the very least would be someday. That is: the way I saw myself in the new, summer blockbuster movie of my life, as opposed to how I actually was. Most of it was pie-in-the-sky, to say the least.
But when "If You Don't Know Me by Now" by Simply Red played on the radio that summer (back when radio still mattered), I remember thinking, for the first time (in keeping with that summer of firsts): holy shit, what he's singing about is happening right here, right now, right in front of me, and there's nothing dramatic about it. In fact, I'm standing at a frustrating impasse.
It was a lesson (in preparation for impending adulthood) that not everything in life is a scene in a movie from which there is an escape, or even a solution. Sometimes (most of the time) life just happens. You don't get to go anywhere. But you still have to move on.
I'll definitely be bringing memories of my summer of firsts along with me on 1/48/50.
Just thankfully not the acne.
Hopefully. ;-)
"Just get yourself together, or we might as well say goodbye / What good is a love affair, when you can't see eye to eye...?"
#202)"Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" by Marvin Gaye - Talk about gorgeous...musically speaking, what's not to love about this song? The rhythm, the melody, the strings, the message about the environment so ground-breaking for the time (AHEAD of its time, really). The song climaxes with one whippersnapper of a sax solo, then dissolves into a musical horror at the very end - an auditory warning (not always heard on the radio edit) that perhaps we shouldn't let that same thing happen to our planet.
Marvin Gaye was an incredible talent. And the 1971 album on which this song appears, What's Going On, will definitely be placed on my next "Whole Albums to Travel By" list.
"What about this overcrowded land, how much more abuse from man, can she stand...?"
#198) "Rapture" by Blondie - When this song was recorded in 1980, America was at a crossroads: post sexual revolution, pre-political correctness. It was a time when our sexual impulses, and the manner, extent and honesty to which we acknowledged them had been freshly brought out from under the pall of repression, allowed to soak in a little sunlight, but were not yet getting manipulated by insulting and desensitizing image overkill, the kind that would eventually come to define our society in decades to come.
To be sure, the news wasn't all good then: the newfound sexual freedom led to newfound aberrations, dark spots in the human psyche that needed to be reined in BY things like political correctness, lest our society collapse completely into some modern day Gomorrah. But that being said, it must have been a great time to be young - before Madison Avenue took over and image really did become everything. By the time I was "young", about ten years later, AIDS had already entered the scene, as had corporate America's stranglehold on every move we make. From these turns of events, an intractable cynicism and jadedness became as much a part of a free lifestyle as anything for disaffected Gen X'ers.
Maybe it was always that way, I don't know. But in any case, the bass line in "Rapture" is itself a sexual expression, as are the drums, and the horns, and the bells, all chained together by Debbie Harry's voice, which is crystal clear and angelic sounding, and at the same time enticingly amoral and untrustworthy. As a song, a "jam", it's dated...definitely sounds like a disco ball monument to the hedonistic 70s...and yet, it's not dated the way, say, an Andy Gibb song might be. It's better than that. Much better. It stands the test of time. Try NOT to listen to it. Ain't easy. And for that matter, Harry, as an object of desire, was herself impossible to ignore.
But there is something else about this song that makes it special:
Recently I was driving with my youngest son, who is 19. This song came on the radio and played through without evoking comment from him, that is, until the end, when Harry begins her rap verse, to which it might be said the title of the song, "Rapture", owes part of a double meaning.
The boy, a fan of rap and hip hop (and like many 19-year-olds, a self-styled music authority, the finest kind, in his young mind...;-), went off at what he saw as her clutzy, white girl flow - rolling his eyes, snorting, scoffing, making sarcastic fart sounds, even rapping along mockingly.
I just kept driving, let him unload, wear himself out. There was no way I could have effectively explained what it was he was listening to, how unwarranted (and/or unfair) his mockery was. I could have tried I guess, popped the balloon of his indignation with a few heavily barbed words from my own music "authority", but I have absolutely no interest in bridging the generation gap. I'm confident he will learn eventually; he does know music, knows "things" in general...he'll figure it out (once his balls drop fully...;-). Or he won't. That's okay too.
You have to put Harry's rapping in perspective. My son was judging it by the modern day rubric, which in terms of popular music has seen countless artists come and go over the last thirty-plus years, each contributing to the standards and best practices of the craft. Over time, there has been great rap music produced, and horrible rap music produced. And it's not really a race thing. There are black people who simply should not be rapping, and every once in a while, an Eminem comes along...(well, okay, just once, but still...)
But in 1980, there was none of that. There was the Sugar Hill Gang's "Rapper's Delight" from 1979, which Deborah Harry borrows a line from in her verse ("Rapture" is notably derivative in other ways, actually, though that's another post...), and not much else. There was certainly nothing on Top 40 radio at the time that could have been considered "rap", and really no chance for such a thing in an age when Juice Newton, 38 Special, and Alabama were scoring No. 1 hits.
Is Debbie Harry's flow ice cold? (I dunno...Epic Rap Battles, I think...) Not quite. Admittedly, it'spretty lukewarm, actually, by today's standards, sounds a lot like a suburban housewife rocking mom jeans and the family karaoke machine during a Saturday afternoon cook out. This is the kind of tragically myopic thinking my son, God bless him, was pinned under as he launched his barrage of snickers, snorts, chortles and horizon-to-horizon eye rolls.
But she was one of the first to do it, one of the first to step outside the box, rethink her whole musical brand, and give this crazy new thing a try. In '80, this was ground-breaking, and I would say it's possible it excited the hell out of people, in mainstream America at the very least, to hear for the first time. It was something nobody else was doing, tacked onto a song that didn't really need it and yet strangely benefited from it. I was eight...I don't remember the song in its day. But I'd bet that while I was lying on my bed, playing with action figures and picking my nose with Air Supply, Hall and Oates and Rick Springfield (or the Oak Ridge Boys! 8-[ ) dribbling from the little pinhole speaker of my transistor radio, in some club somewhere, some 19, 20, 21-year-old kid, standing on the cusp of discovering his or own own definition of rapture for the first time - and on his or her own terms - was probably pretty blown away.
"Cause the man from Mars stopped eating cars and eating bars and now he only eats guitars! Get up...!"
#199) "Drops of Jupiter (Tell Me)" by Train - This is an odd piece of music for me: breezy, upbeat and inspiring, just pleasant to listen to, like a sunny afternoon in June...and at the same time one of the saddest songs ever.
Like all of Train's music, I hated it when it was released in 2001 (Pat Monahan and crew trying too hard, in my view, to be or say something...). But like much of Train's music, it's grown on me over time, and has come to represent how things felt, generally speaking, when I was in my twenties - that sense of invincibility you don't get in any other phase of life: you're not a kid anymore, you're an adult, but you still have so much time ahead of you, all the time in the world (you think). That joyous sense of unbridled anticipation, fueled by all the wide open possibilities, can be found in "Drops of Jupiter's..."bouncing piano and windystring arrangement.
But the song also touches on one of the saddest tropes in story telling: the possibility that one person might outgrow, and thus leave behind, another. Goodbyes are a bitch in any scenario, at any age, but it's one thing if a relationship stalls out from mutual dissatisfaction, or a mutual acknowledgement that everything has changed, or (of course) if there is abuse or cheating going on.
If it's just because one person has changed while the other one hasn't, either because they can't, or they won't, that's heart-breaking. The notion of two people drifting apart, one person moving forward, the other held back, their bond corroded by the slow, unstoppable grind of time as assuredly as something left out in the rain will eventually return to dust, is discouraging, to say the least.
And from what I remember of so many moments in my twenties (not all of them, but some....a few that had nothing to do with me...), I'd say the guy in this song, the protagonist, so hopeful that he was "missed" while his girl was off on her "soul vacation", is a dead man walking. It's been my experience that "soul vacations" are kind of like Stephen King's "Pet Sematary"....people say they'll come back, and they may actually come back, but they're never quite the same when they do.
That's just my interpretation. If nothing else, "Drops of Jupiter (Tell Me)" is a fantastic song to drive to. ALSO on account of the bouncing piano and windy string arrangement.
"Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet, did you finally get a chance to dance along the light of day...?"
#200) "Ironic" by Alanis Morissette - Yes, I know, I've heard it many times before: there isn't really anything ironic in this song. To be honest, I don't know if that's true...at least, I'm not quite as sure as I was twenty years ago. The balloon of my indignation may have been popped by the testimony of a person much smarter than I, some on-line blogger, who suggested everything in the song actually IS ironic, if you accept a broadened definition of the word. Or if nothing else, the WHOLE of the song is ironic BECAUSE nothing in it is.
I've always understood that the song is pretty much just Morissette's list of coincidences or bad luck episodes. What WOULD have been ironic in this song, for instance, is if the man who waited his whole damn life to take that flight, started screaming (as the plane crashed down), "Okay, everyone start flapping your arms!"
Whatever, I still like it a lot. Its breezy message of hope glowed especially bright in the midst of the drearily jaded music scene of the 1990s...and I especially enjoy the video, with Alanis playing all four girls on a road trip. I'm not sure why...there's just something about it: the winter scenes, the way the washed-out sunshine crashes through the windshield as they cruise along some desolate two-lane highway, the clumps of snow and ice covering the car...it's always really pleased me. Reminds me, perhaps, of something seminal to my young life. And I suspect this is what they were going for (indirectly, at least), but I feel like I've dated some version of all four of those girls at one point or another in my life.
And IN that very car, come to think of it...gotta love the old 70s boats that got me around then. ;-)
Dani Mathers is obviously a cruel, horrendous excuse for a human being, but it's the larger point here that makes this so awful: that anyone can take a picture of anyone, at any time, and post it to a world-wide audience, that we can all essentially create our own edition of "Inside Edition" at will....is fucking perverse.
This just might be the most compelling "Reason to Live Nebulously" I've ever posted. :-/
Knock on wood, I've never been in a car accident. At least not one
with devastating results. I've slid on ice and wound up in the ditch two times (which is better than sliding on ice and winding up on top of someone's hood) and once, when I was in high school, as my mother pulled up in the bus loop to drop
me off, we were rear-ended by another mother dropping her son off. The physical jolt of that impact was remarkable, given the lady was only going about five miles per hour, but happily, no damage to human or vehicle. For all
the many miles I've driven over the last 27 years, I am fortunate never to have crossed paths with another vehicle in motion.
Part of this, I
must say, is my own doing. I think I'm a pretty good driver. I'm not a leadfoot, I stay aware of my surroundings, don't take unnecessary risks or make overly aggressive moves, never drive while under the influence, etc. Smart and/or defensive
driving has managed to keep me safe.
In fact, I can say truthfully that defensive driving once saved my life. Many years ago, my then-girlfriend, her infant son and I were driving west along U.S. Highway 2. We had just crossed the Michigan border into Wisconsin, headed home on a bright winter afternoon. It was cold, but both skies and roads were perfectly clear. As we cruised along, a large pick-up appeared in the distance, approaching at a fast rate of speed. When it got within about two-thousand feet, it suddenly veered into our lane, and stayed there. It took a moment for me to realize what was happening. I sat up straight and reaffirmed my grip on the steering wheel with a tense uncurling and curling of my fingers. The truck hadn't just drifted over slowly, and it wasn't passing anyone (there were no other
cars for it to pass). It had simply switched lanes and was headed straight at us. A dead-on, head-on collision.
My instinct (in the fraction of a second that fate allowed me to think about it) was to stay the course, wait for him to correct what obviously was a mistake. He was going to switch
back into his laneeventually...er, right...??? Of course he was! People don't drive in the wrong lane against oncoming traffic! Sheesh! There has to be a reason for this, and he'll figure it out. Give him a second... But he didn't figure it out, and it quickly became clear he didn't want to. He just kept coming straight on, as though that two-lane highway was really four lane, and we were the ones traveling in the wrong direction. I had no choice
but to slam my brakes and veer onto the shoulder. He actually moved with me for a second, toward the shoulder, but at the very last possible moment, veered back to his lane and sailed past. It was a big
black pick-up, with a lift kit and Michigan plates. I can only assume it was full of teenagers,
and the driver thought it would be funny to try running someone off the road. Even now, so many years later, that explanation seems extreme (I'm not generally inclined to cry conspiracy, or foul...), but I simply can't think
of any other reason for that to have happened. He stayed in our lane too long, too purposefully, for it to be just a drunk driver weaving back and forth, or a case of inattentive driving.
But a big part of the fact that I've never been in an accident can also be attributed to mere luck. Drivingisinherently dangerous: we are all operating 2000-plus pound missiles, often at 70-plus miles per hour, and always within the shaky parameters of rules that are intended to preserve that thin border between order and utter chaos, but are only effective if EVERYONE is following them all the time. Something to think about before you head off to work in the morning, much less drive 14,000 miles across the country. Frankly, the way most people drive, or conduct themselves while driving, it's amazing there aren't more accidents on any given day. (Again: knock on wood.)
Drunk driving is an on-going problem. I imagine the strong campaign against it in the last forty years has improved the statistics somewhat, but unfortunately, I still see drunk drivers frequently: people weaving back and
forth, braking when they don't need to, slowing down, then speeding up. This really annoys me, not only because they're stupidly taking the lives of everyone around them into their hands when they do this (to speak nothing of their own lives), but because
I've always been really good about not drinking and driving. When I was a
younger man and partied a lot more, I made it a point to NOT drive, and would either call a taxi or walk my drunken self home rather than get behind the wheel. Beyond the possibility of dying, or killing someone else, I simply didn't want to spend the night in jail, didn't want to pay a bunch of fines, or, God forbid, see my driver's license revoked. But mostly, I never, ever deluded myself into thinking that I was "okay" to drive. I knew I wasn't, and I never had anything to prove. And so I stumbled home in rain, snow, ice and thunder.
High driving is
another real concern, and more insidious than drunk driving, truth be told. As pot becomes less taboo, more socially acceptable,
people think nothing of smoking WHILE they're driving, as assuredly as they think nothing of showing up to work high, whereas they wouldn't dream of showing up to work drunk. In my line of work, I have to deal with that every single day: the perception that because the effects of weed are generally milder than alcohol, it's okay to do things after you've smoked that you wouldn't if you've been drinking. But don't kid yourself. You're not capable of operating a motor vehicle when you've been smoking weed; you're just not. And the people who hope to see marijuana legalized in their state (or in the country) someday are not helping the cause by acting irresponsibly and recklessly.
Even more
dangerous still: texting while driving. And to this end, I'm amazed any of us have survived. Unfortunately, EVERYONE texts and drives, or messes around with their phone while they're switching lanes at the very least. Nearly every car I pass, or get passed by, is being driven by someone with their nose stuck in their phone. I see more texting drivers than drunk drivers these days. They may not be under the influence of drugs or alcohol, but they are under the influence of the delusion that some inconsequential piece of information, a bread crumb from the pantry of their life - or the 70 mph selfie they've just taken - is worth sharing, and more absurdly, MUST be shared immediately. I can't say I've never checked or used my phone while I was driving on the highway. But I don't do it anymore. And I never attempt to type out texts to people. I pull over if I really have something important to say (usually I don't), or use text-speak. And one thing I never do is use my phone when I'm driving in the city. I leave it the hell alone, and concentrate on the ebb and flow of traffic around me. If only all drivers were so vigilant. I can't tell you how many times I've been stopped at lights and watched in my rear-view as a car races up behind me, at which time I'm offered a glimpse of the driver's head tilted downward, looking at his phone as he screeches to a stop within inches of my rear bumper. That's especially unnerving because there's nothing I can do. One of these days, he (or she) isn't going to brake in time, and no amount of "defensive driving" will help. The only thing I'll be able to do is brace for impact.
I can't say whether there are actually more accidents these days than in the past, but I have noticed - just in the last five years - that more often than not, accidents that get reported on the news are caused by one vehicle "crossing the center line". For that reason, when I'm on a highway, I instinctively hug the shoulder. I've gotten into the habit of assuming the driver of the approaching vehicle is texting (or who knows, might try to run me off the road...) and could accidentally cross the center line at any moment. Evasive maneuver has become SOP.
Couple this with
the normal human driving behaviors that have plagued our roadways since Henry Ford first made
his horseless carriage available to the masses, and it's a truly dangerous world we make our way in: The overly aggressive driver, the impatient jerk, who MUST be first in line, the first to turn, the first to go, and insists on driving 85 in
a 55 zone (or 55 in a 35). The driver who may not be impaired, may not be texting, but just doesn't seem to know how to properly operate his vehicle. The one who accelerates like an Indy 500 driver, brakes like he's about to go over an embankment...makes sloppy lane changes without signalling...seemingly unable to absorb the rhythm of traffic. It would seem, there are definitely some people who shouldn't have a driver's license. And let us not forget those who drive too slow, the Sunday drivers. I'm not a leadfoot, but I
do insist everyone drive the speed limit. And semi drivers. Most are very courteous, to be sure, but too many are pressured to make time, especially the OTR drivers. They drive too fast for conditions, bounce in an out of lanes, around other vehicles, don't get adequate rest between runs, all in a mad dash to get where they're going as quickly as possible. And every May and every August, at least in the Midwest, there is the onslaught of farm equipment plugging up roadways, some gargantuan, Star Wars-looking mechanical creature chugging along a county trunk at 10 or 12 miles per hour, with a string of 10 or 12 vehicles pooled up behind it. It's difficult to see around, near impossible to pass, and possesses the unique ability to turn me into the "overly aggressive driver", the "impatient jerk"... Yes, it's a big bad world out there on our highways and byways. Driving 14,000 miles through it all is almost tempting fate. But I can't wait to take that risk.
It was a great summer. One of the best in recent memory.
It was wet. Lots of days when sunshine and sun showers seemed to be taking turns as the afternoon went on.
There was almost too much rain, actually, causing flooding in some areas, which is never good, and surely contributing to this year's bumper hatch of mosquitoes. But the plentiful moisture also made for a great growing season...and you want to eat, don't you? ;-)
It was warm. There was not a single stretch of damp, chilly weather (the kind that ruins picnics, softball games and barbecues). In fact, I don't think I remember a single chilly day...odd for Wisconsin. At the same time, it never stayed unbearably hot for too long. Nights were downright lovely.
My job had me driving a lot this summer, mostly through farm country where there was a lot of open sky, and up in those vast spaces there always seemed to be clouds hanging, forming or approaching:
Sometimes they brought mayhem
(in this case, the very weather front itself clearly defined)...
Sometimes no threat of violence, just more rain...
Sometimes they formed speckled patterns, a kind of celestial latticework, and these often led to a stellar sunset, or sunrise, and more than a few nights on which dappled moonlight fell across the remote corn and soy fields I cruised past on my way home.
There came the odd rainbow...
Or two...
Sometimes clouds lingered around AFTER a storm had passed...
But most of the time, they sailed past happily,
soft puffs of cotton that wouldn't hurt a fly,
breathing gently on the neck of a perfect summer day...
I had the privilege of driving through some intense thunderstorms too. In fact, I was treated to a stellar light show not two nights ago...
I saw some interesting things while driving:
* A sandhill crane, for the first time ever....actually two of them.
* A flock of wild turkeys causing traffic to back up as they made their way across a busy city highway.
* Lots of deer in the area. Didn't hit any, thankfully, although someone did, because a few of the ones I saw were lying crumpled on the side of the road.
Sadly, I didn't avoid road carnage completely:
* I unintentionally slaughtered a family of skunks, who appeared in the cone of my headlights too quickly to take evasive action. I hit another skunk several weeks later, in a different location, and was pretty upset. But the other night, during that light show, I successfully avoided hitting a third skunk by skillfully veering around it, so I like (choose) to think I redeemed myself. Deer either freeze up, or take dumb risks trying to cross the road, but at least they know what's going on around them. Skunks never seem aware of where they are, or even that something's about to happen.
All the driving this summer left me with time to listen:
* George Carlin's "Brain Droppings", read by the great one, himself.
* Meat Loaf's "Bat Out of Hell", which is still a great album, although I can't relate to it quite the same way I (thought I) could in high school. That's probably a good thing.
* Sometime in early July, "The Dark Side of the Moon" replaced "The Wall" as my favorite Pink Floyd album.
* Tom Waits is still brilliant.
* Inexplicably, I really came to like Selena Gomez's "The Heart Wants What it Wants"....don't tell anyone.
Sometimes I turned the radio off and let my mind wander:
* I ate a Whatchamacallit candy bar for the first time since Jimmy Carter was president. It was not at all what I remember, kind of disgusting actually (I'm good for another 37 years), but the experience got me thinking: IS it different from when I was a kid, or am I different? That is, have my tastes changed?
* I weighed my options in the upcoming presidential election...fell to grief, for a bit.
* I thought about how I would fare as president. There would be just one slogan for a Glovsky 2020 campaign: "Infrastructure, First and Foremost." But how would I handle ISIS? Immigration? The racial divide in this country? Cop shootings? Mall shootings? School shootings? (Fell to grief again, for a bit). And what if the press found out that I like "The Heart Wants What it Wants" by Selena Gomez? 8-/
* I realized I am the age my father was in 1976.
I watched some of the Olympics on TV...er, tried to, at least. Okay, I pretty much just answered "yes" when asked if I was watching, because I felt I should, because to my surprise, a lot of people seemed to be following the action in Rio. Truthfully, I was not one of them. Ryan Lochte...seriously...? I'm not talking about the fake robbery in Rio, just....Ryan Lochte??
I was more interested in the Little League World Series. Having played myself, long ago, I can imagine how amazing it must be for those kids, ages 11- 13, to play at that level, to have their games carried on ESPN, on a world stage, and have it still be just about the game. That is what sports, in the purest sense of the word, is all about. Just playing the game. No eight-figure contracts, endorsement deals or future wives of wherever turning good fortune into sick-making opulence. No agents, sign-on bonuses (or blow jobs), reality shows, or fake South American robbery reports. Just playing the game.
Playing the game.
Playing the game, and feeling like a pretty big deal for just a little while.
I was able to do some gardening this summer, for the first time in several years. I grew hot peppers and tomatoes, made chili with both, reaffirming something I learned back in the day: there is nothing more viscerally satisfying than consuming what you grow.
I worked on my farmer's tan.
I fished a new lake (while working on my farmer's tan).
Kayaked for the first time (stayed upright!).
I went to see the Braves play the Brewers at Miller Park. The Braves lost, but I kicked ass at "20 Questions" on the drive there.
Speaking of kicking ass, I also played on a volleyball team called Blue Philadelphia...and we...well, you know...
All things considered, a great summer! But another year down, another year of my life gone, and am I any closer to 1/48/50? I'm closer to the self-imposed deadline, sure....but no closer to actually making it happen.
The kind of trip I want to take is itself a pretty big deal. There will be major financial considerations. For starters, I've got to start thinking seriously about acquiring an RV, one that a) will make the 14,000+ mile journey, and b) I will feel comfortable living in for six months. And then there are the expenses on the road. I have a preliminary budget mapped out, an idea of what the entire trip will cost...and honestly, it's going to be a tall order. Not impossible, but seeing as my last name isn't Rockefeller, it's certainly something I'll have to start saving for.
But preparation is going to involve more than just saving money. It's going to involve nurturing a strong commitment to making it happen. That is, declaring not only that I'm going to do it, but when I'm going to do it. Setting a date (something more concrete than "before I turn 50"), and sticking to it.
Work is going to be a factor. Not so much because I won't get paid if I don't work, but whether I will even be able to get away. Right now, honestly, I don't think I could take six months off. I'm kind of integral to what's going on, and while that can be a good thing (it's nice to be needed...), it means a six-month road trip would be an unacceptable, and therefore impossible, interruption.
I guess there's a reason why people wait to retire before they set out to "find America". But that is precisely what I don't want to do. I really want to pull this trip off while I'm still young(ish)...still vital, still capable of long drives, still up for anything, as it were. Before I turn 50 sounds great, but the sooner the better.
Fact is, there will probably always be a million excuses not to do it, myriad reasons why I can't, or shouldn't. I'll probably always find it hard to get away, this summer, next summer, the summer after that. I don't want to fall into that pattern, because before I know it, I'll still be sitting here blogging about the trip, but having to call it 1/48/70.
Perhaps one of the things that I thought about most this summer during all that driving is whether there's a part of me that's afraid to do it. I'm not sure why that would be the case. Maybe I'm afraid of the commitment, as though once I commit, I have to go through with it. Maybe, in certain moments, I find the whole thing a little intimidating...
Maybe I'm reluctant to do it because after all this planning and mapping and budgeting and anticipation, when I finally get out there, drive 14,000 miles and come home, it will be over. And then what?
Maybe I'm terrified of the way other people drive... ;-)
Music, like all things creative, is very subjective. I know the list of "road songs" I've been cobbling together for almost three years now is not the last word. I know everyone would have a vastly different group of songs to place on something so ceremonial as a road trip mix. I like to think I have fairly eclectic taste, fed by an open mind. If something moves me, it moves me. I don't generally get bogged down in image or genre. But there are some songs I simply cannot get on board with. Sometimes they try too hard. Sometimes they don't try hard enough. Sometimes they don't make any sense...or make too much sense (which usually leads back to trying too hard...) Sometimes they're just boring..."different ways of yawning", as my brother has said. And boring me is really the only way I can be offended. Sometimes it's a song from a band or an artist I otherwise dig. Sometimes this one left turn into a musically bad neighborhood is an aberration. But sometimes a certain song is so horrible, so insulting to its genre, the artist performing it, and the LISTENER, it makes my skin crawl, even pissing me off a little, if I'm stuck listening to it long enough. Sometimes there's not really anything wrong with the song, it just reminds me of a time in my life I don't wish to remember. Music hath charms, good and bad. Here are a few of the musical lemons that will not be coming along for the ride on 1/48/50. I won't comment beyond the listing. Readers can take them for what they will, not take them at all, decide I don't know what I'm talking about (if they haven't already), or cry out 'Hallelujah!'. ;-) ❌ "Love Stinks" by The J. Geils Band ❌ "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by The Rolling Stones
Music, like all things creative, is very subjective. I know the list of "road songs" I've been cobbling together for almost three years now is not the last word. I know everyone would have a vastly different group of songs to place on something so ceremonial as a road trip mix. I like to think I have fairly eclectic taste, fed by an open mind. If something moves me, it moves me. I don't generally get bogged down in image or genre. But there are some songs I simply cannot get on board with. Sometimes they try too hard. Sometimes they don't try hard enough. Sometimes they don't make any sense...or make too much sense (which usually leads back to trying too hard...) Sometimes they're just boring..."different ways of yawning", as my brother has said. And boring me is really the only way I can be offended. Sometimes it's a song from a band or an artist I otherwise dig. Sometimes this one left turn into a musically bad neighborhood is an aberration. But sometimes a certain song is so horrible, so insulting to its genre, the artist performing it, and the LISTENER, it makes my skin crawl, even pissing me off a little, if I'm stuck listening to it long enough. Sometimes there's not really anything wrong with the song, it just reminds me of a time in my life I don't wish to remember. Music hath charms, good and bad. Here are a few of the musical lemons that will not be coming along for the ride on 1/48/50. I won't comment beyond the listing. Readers can take them for what they will, not take them at all, decide I don't know what I'm talking about (if they haven't already), or cry out 'Hallelujah!'. ;-) ❌ "Hard To Say I'm Sorry" by Chicago ❌ "Brave" by Sara Bareilles ❌ "Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton
The overly aggressive driver, the impatient jerk, who MUST be first in line, the first to turn, the first to go, and insists on driving 85 in
a 55 zone (or 55 in a 35). 
