Tis The Season

It’s the time of year for fun things like Christmas trees and cookie baking and surprises. It’s also the season for not-so-fun things like addressing holiday cards,  The Chipmunks’ Christmas album and, especially, running errands. 

If you read my post “Park and Shop,” you know I’m a world-class errand runner with extensive on-the-job training and millions of car miles and sales receipts in my resume.  This year, however, the pre Christmas rush of busy streets and crowded parking lots is getting to me. What keeps me going is the music of the 50’s and 60’s on my car’s Sirius Radio.

The Sirius Radio connection started out to be Paul’s birthday present two years ago. Unfortunately, the control box would have had to be installed right out there on the dashboard of the Lexus rather than stashed away neatly in some little compartment – SO unaesthetic!! That was a deal breaker for Paul who has neatness issues (my post “The Secret Lives of Dentists” explains this) and for the Lexus which has snottiness issues (my post “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” explains that.)

My van and I don’t have any issues.  So, while I’m navigating from Macy’s, to Kroger’s, to Target, to Barnes and Noble, to Dick’s Sporting Goods, to the Party Store, to Bed, Bath and Beyond, and beyond, I can sing along to the music and enjoy the tunes, the lyrics and the memories.

I can count on getting a lift from the Supremes – the ultimate feel-good group.  On the radio, their music absolutely shimmers. I can’t see them, but I know they always shimmered, too - slinky, sparkly gowns, shiny hair, glittery eyelids and glossy lips.  And, what I like best is the Supremes never fail to sound upbeat and happy, even after some guy has ditched them as in “Where Did Our Love Go?” or “Reflections” or “The Happening.” (Click  The Supremes and see for yourself.)

Surf and drag racing music is also fun and I’ve always loved the Beach Boys.  I picture them rolling out of bed, bare-footed, wearing faded t-shirts with stretched out necks and frayed cutoffs, sun-bleached blonde hair in their eyes, swigging milk right out of the carton, belching, and, then, stumbling through another chorus of “Barbara Ann.” (Click this link to hear them: Beach Boys )  Raffish but wholesome, they take you on a “Surfin’ Safari,” urge you to “Be True to Your School” and wonder what life will be like “When I Grow Up to Be a Man.” (By now, they must know the answers to the questions in that song including, “Will my kids be proud or think their old man’s really a square?”)

Then, there’s “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You,” sung slowly and suggestively as only Elvis could do it. (Click for Elvis) That song, and other like it, brings back memories of junior high parties and dances. To launch me into adolescent social life, my mom sent me to weekly social dancing lessons with a bunch of other 12 and 13-year-olds - boys wearing clip-on ties and girls wearing anklets and white gloves.  Two years of lessons taught me important stuff like how to meet people in a receiving line, how to accept punch and cookies from a dance partner and how to do the jitterbug, the waltz and the fox trot.  I went to a lot of eighth grade parties and never once did I find a receiving line or punch and cookies or someone who wanted to foxtrot.  What I wished I had learned was how to dance in low light with a partner holding me so close that I couldn't watch my feet.

There is so much entertainment in these oldies that sometimes I have to wait until a song like “American Pie” is over before I tackle Hobby Lobby.    I get a laugh out of the names of the groups like the Orlons, the Ronettes, the Chiffons and the Shirelles.  I love the politically incorrect songs you’d never record today like “A-Hab the A-Rab,” “You Better Come Home, Speedy Gonzales” and “Johnny Get Angry” – with lyrics like “Let me know that you’re the boss” and “I want a brave man, I want a cave man,” music that Gloria Steinem could really relate to. 

The Mamas and the Papas’ “California Dreaming” takes me back to my first all-night work session on the high school annual. The Fifth Dimension’s “Wedding Bell Blues” reminds me of Friday nights at the sorority house when everyone was showering, powdering, perfuming, hot rollering and dressing for dates.  And every time I hear “We Gotta Get Out of This Place,” I feel the strobe-lit pulsation of loud music and tightly packed bodies at college parties.  Those were the days . . . I think.

This summer, a disillusioning and frightening encounter with the musical past confirmed the value of radio when it comes to oldies.  I was with a group of women friends on what one husband called a “Cat’s away weekend” when, late one evening, “Malt Shop Memories,” a PBS special about music of the 50’s and early 60’s came on T.V. 

We were just in time to see and hear Frankie Avalon who was cute but definitely flat, and, with my musical ear, if I can tell he’s flat then he’s a pancake – no, make that a crepe. Fortunately he and most of the other guys talked a lot of their lyrics, but the talk wasn’t always on key either.  Bobby Rydell had the best voice and moves of the group but he’s gotten a little fuzzy around the edges like the rest of us.  The biggest disappointment was Fabian who has a size 25 neck and was unrecognizable. He and the rest of those formerly sexy Italian boys from Philly have apparently gone overboard on cannelloni and cannoli.(The photo at the left shows Frankie, Bobby and Fabian with Dick Clark - the Malt Shop photo is at above.)   My friend Carol just kept shaking her head and muttering, “That is NOT Fabian.”  From beginning to end, “Malt Shop Memories” was something you might call “sweet” but certainly not what you would call “pretty.”  Part way through the show I took out my contacts which helped a little.

The biggest surprise of all came at the end when Lesley Gore burst onto the stage. I always thought of her as an annoying whiner (“It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To”) with a snarky, vengeful streak ("Now It’s Judy’s Turn To Cry.”)  Well, she was outstanding that night – right on key (a welcome change) and to top it off, she pranced around the stage like a 30-year-old or at least like Mick Jagger at Super Bowl XL.  I’d like to get hold of whatever Lesley’s taking.

After that, I decided to stick with Sirius Radio, especially since I can’t take the “Malt Shop” with me when I run my errands, thank goodness. I’m counting on the entire crowd from Buddy Holly to Ricky Nelson, from Simon and Garfunkel to Sonny and Cher, from the Monkees to the Turtles to the Beatles to the Animals, from Dionne Warwick to Connie Francis to Petula Clark, and from the Big Bopper to Little Anthony, Little Richard, Little Stevie Wonder and Little Eva to stick with me through all my holiday preparations this year.  And I’m hoping that when I’m 85 or 90, those songs of the 50’s and 60’s will still be around.  I’m going to need them.