When I was in high school, my Mom and Stepdad decided to try their entrepreneurial hand in Dallas, Texas, which left me and our hapless German Shepherd Freeway alone in a large house in Coach Hill. Sensing imminent mischief, my folks asked my older brother Jim to move into the house while they were in the U.S.
This was good timing, as Jimmy was making life adjustments after coming out of a relationship, and, as typically happens after coming out of a relationship, he was entering that raw period of uncertain freedom and growth, where one sheds the carapace of the past and emerges, naked, into a novel world of self-reclamation and discovery. Continue reading “Jimmy”
My erstwhile colleague and proximate cubicle partner Rick initiated our work version of Desert Island Discs, based on the BBC4 Radio Programme of the same name, in which we choose our top 5 songs (or albums) we would want to bring with us if we were stranded on a desert island. Below are my selections.
1. Bobby Hebb – Sunny
Bobby Hebb wrote Sunny in the two days following November 22, 1963—the day JFK was assassinated, and the day Hebb’s older brother was stabbed to death outside a Nashville nightclub. Of the song, Hebb said, “All my intentions were to think of happier times and pay tribute to my brother – basically looking for a brighter day – because times were at a low.”
For me, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come home from the bar, fucked up and sentimental, and played this song, over and over and over again. In fact, if I could only pick one song on my desert island, this would likely be it. Continue reading “Desert Island Discs”
You might think I like all electronic music, but you’d be wrong. As much as hell is eternal, this song will forever remind me of the summer of 2014 and the flaccid 5:00 p.m. gym monkeys who hogged the squat rack for an hour at a time, doing anything BUT exercising. Every…single…time I walked into the gym that summer, I’d see the same guys chatting at the squat rack, and not two seconds later, by dint of back luck or something more sinister, I’d hear the whiny “When I met you in the summer” intro come through the speakers, followed by the nauseating string riff, which would tenaciously embed itself for the entire workout and beyond. If ever there were a contemporary case of classical conditioning, this song would be it, for every time I hear it, I want to punch something. It’s like that scene in Kingsman – Secret Service, when Colin Firth hears Freebird. Except Freebird is good. Continue reading “The Songs You Will Hear in Hell”
On account of this likely being the best day we’re going to have all of 2016, here are my picks for the Top 5 Summer Songs poll we did at work a few weeks’ back.
1. Mungo Jerry – Summertime
I’ve liked this song ever since I was a kid, riding shotgun in my Dad’s shitbox Chevrolet Impala (and later, his Dodge Magnum) to go see the harness races at Stampede Park . My Dad had friends from A to Z, and, being the bar manager at a number of bars, he of course got invited to parties and whatnot that the younger cocktail waitresses were having, and, you know, lots of these waitresses’ guy friends actually looked like Mungo Jerry. Continue reading “Top 5 Summer Songs”
At work as of late we’ve been sharing different song themes, from “Desert Island Discs” (in which we share the top 5 songs (or albums) that we’d want if we were stranded on a desert island), to “Five Songs You’d Hear in Hell”, to “Top 5 Five Country Songs that Actually Don’t Make You Puke”, to “Summer Songs”, and, most recently, the apropos “Rain Songs”. Here’s my rain list: