September 2022 - Page 5 of 6 - Ramblin' with Roger

The Most Awarded Songs #3

I know all of the lyrics to the song Tequila

From Joel Whitburn’s Top Pop Singles book, The Most Awarded Songs #3. This covers a range of categories: ASCAP, BMI, RIAA, Rolling Stone magazine, plus Grammys and Oscars, and more.

130. Strangers In The Night – Frank Sinatra. This was from the movie A Man Could Get Killed, starring James Garner, which I’ll admit I am unfamiliar with. But for Frank Sinatra, it was a #1 song in the midst of the rock and roll era, 1966, his first #1 in more than a decade. Yet Frank HATED the song and thought it was terrible. Especially the “doo-be-doo-be-doo” part, which later inspired CBS TV exec Fred Silverman to rename a cartoon character Scooby-Doo. Oh, and there is a complicated copyright issue.

129. Where Did Our Love Go – The Supremes. In 1964, this was the first of five consecutive #1 songs, for the former “No-Hit Supremes.” Like many of their hits, it was written by Holland-Dozier-Holland.

128. My Guy – Mary Wells. I was always impressed by the fact that My Guy and My Girl were both written and produced by Smokey Robinson. Both went to #1.

127. I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For – U2. Isn’t that true of many of us? From Joshua Tree, still my favorite U2 album, pretty much from the jump. I do find the Rattle and Hum version, with the gospel choir, intriguing, though.

126. The Way They Were – Barbra Streisand. I understood the relationship between the two main characters in the 1973 film of the same name, which I saw. Part of the film, starring Streisand and Robert Redford, was filmed at Union College in Schenectady. The idea of people who love each other but are ill-suited is quite relatable to me. The song, by Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman, and Marvin Hamlisch, expresses that melancholy.

Postage due

125. The Letter – The Box Tops. The Joe Cocker version is fine, but this one is both short and insistent. I feel as though I should have gotten into other Alex Chilton music, such as Big Star.

124. Tequila – The Champs. This was supposed to be the B-side to Train To Nowhere, but a DJ flipped the record. The song became so much a part of pop culture.

123. All Along The Watchtower – Jimi Hendrix. This is ALWAYS on lists of the greatest cover songs. Bob Dylan recorded the song dor his John Wesley Harding Harding album, but in his live shows, his version is more like the Hendrix iteration.

122. Coal Miner’s Daughter – Loretta Lynn. An epic recounting of her growing up in poor, rural Kentucky. But it could have been much longer, as she was asked to drop five or six verses. I always meant to see the movie with Sissy Spacek.

121. Purple Haze – The Jimi Hendrix Experience. This likewise is ALWAYS on the list of popular mondegreens. “‘Scuse me while I kiss this guy,” which I NEVER heard until others suggested it.

My rendezvous with destiny

10 Riverside Drive

Ely Park entrance — By Paul Konecny, used by permission

Recently, I commented on my friend David’s Facebook response to his Wordle 3 score that I’d gotten two 3s in a row, “my rendezvous with destiny.” This was an obtuse clue that day’s word, which was TRYST. He said, “That sounds like the title of your next blog post.” Okay, I always do what David says. (HA!)

ITEM: Someone posted a picture of the gateway to the hundred steps to Ely Park on Facebook’s Historic Binghamton site. This was at the corner of Oak and Prospect Streets, less than four blocks from both my Grandma Williams’ house on Maple Street, south of Prospect, and our house on Gaines Street, east of Oak Street.

The gateway was razed, along with dozens of houses in Binghamton, Johnson City (plus the baseball stadium Johnson Field), and westward in the late 1960s to build the new Route 17, which is becoming I-86. My grandma had relatives that were displaced. But somehow, I had it in my head that the construction was even more disruptive than it was.

If you take the westbound Exit 72 and turn right then left, I know you’ll find a cemetery where my friend Karen’s mom was buried in 2012. But if you turn right and then right again, you’ll find the Ely Park golf course. I haven’t been in that section of the city since the highway was built. Next time I’m in town, I’ll need to go there.

Les as a child

ITEM: My sister Marcia found a picture of my father from c. 1932, which I posted on the Historic Binghamton site, trying to find more information about it. I’ll post it here later this month.

One guy commented that my father “would sometimes sing with my Dad, Pete Reynolds. You and your family visited my family when we lived on Brady Hill Rd in Conklin Forks.” Always fascinating when my past comes back.

A woman named Arlene noted: “Knew your parents and the family through the dental office where I was a dental hygienist. Loved all of them!!” That was 10 Riverside Dr. with Dr. Levey. That was in a separate building right behind my pedestrian’s office, Israel J. Rosefsky, who retired at 88 and died in 2005 at 95. I have a favorable recollection of Arlene.

Old friend

ITEM: In the 1980s, I had a friend named Jean. We used to hang out together, going to plays or concerts; I’ll have to check my diaries eventually. She had a daughter who I was fond of. But I lost track of them.

As I noted, Sue from my choir died recently. I just discovered that Jean’s daughter is Susan’s granddaughter! Moreover, my wife knows the husband of Jean’s daughter. At the funeral, I discovered I had given Jean’s daughter some Elfquest comics back in the day. She knew who Raoul Vezina, my FantaCo friend, was and even remembered that he died from an asthma attack in 1983.

I think a better title for this would have been, My Ever-Present Past, a Paul McCartney song title.

It’s not easy until it is

no coffee

“It’s not easy until it is” is my mantra concerning anything even the slightest bit mechanical. For instance, there is a bike rack – actually two – on the buses run by the CDTA. The first time I attempted to use it, I couldn’t figure it out for about three minutes. I do think that there was a busload of people who want to go home didn’t help. The bus driver was not allowed to leave the bus to assist.

Finally, voila. Then it was easy. So simple, in fact, when other people are having trouble figuring out its use, I have gotten out of the bus to help them.

The first time I took an at-home COVID test, the instructions made it seem very complicated. Now, easy peasy. (Do people still say easy peasy?)

This happens to me a lot with technology. I read the manual, but there’s a disconnect in my brain. This does depend on who’s writing them, of course. There was a Picasa software for putting pictures in a Blogger/Blogspot blog; I NEVER understood it. By trial and error, I figured out a workaround.

Java

The most complicated thing at church had nothing to do with the fact that our pastors are on sabbatical from May to September. Making coffee had been the purview of the custodian. Since the last fellow left early in 2022, the church’s elders hired a service to clean the bathrooms, vacuum, etc. This doesn’t include making coffee, though. A series of volunteers have to make it.

One recent Sunday, my wife was tasked to set up for the coffee hour, meaning making coffee. She had once made coffee at another venue with a different machine, but she was hardly experienced.

I was of no help. Back in the early days of my last job, someone determined that everybody had to make the coffee because it was “fair.” Fair to whom? I never have drunk coffee, to the apparent horror of some people. Seriously.

But I made it once. It was apparently so terrible that I never had to do it again. I’d like to say that I sabotaged it intentionally, but I did not. Still, I couldn’t tell if it was too strong or weak because, as noted, I don’t drink coffee.

For my wife’s task, it turned out to be more complicated than she thought. So when a couple of folks who had made the coffee before came in, I enlisted their help. One said, “There are instructions.” Yes, I know; my wife knows. But the coffee was spilling on the burner. It turns out the whatchamacallit had to be in a certain position, totally contrary to her instincts or mine. So next time, it’ll be easier, probably.

How do I consume my music?

If it’s May, it must be Winwood and Wonder

As is often the case, this post, How do I consume my music?, was inspired by old buddy Greg Burgas’ post. Before I get to the crux of the matter, let me address some of his introductory comments.

He writes: “I still buy physical compact discs because, like comics, I like the physical objects, but I’m certainly not averse to getting something only digitally.” This is true of me as well. I know I HAVE various recordings that are digital only, but I have not organized them in any systematic way.

“I don’t listen to Spotify or any other music service, and I rarely listen to the radio.” Ditto. The radio in the car is controlled by my wife and, to some degree, my daughter.

“I don’t tend to find a lot of new music, which is fine with me. A lot of the bands I like are still releasing albums, and I’m good.” This is largely true. I’m more likely to buy the new Bonnie Raitt or Elvis Costello – I bought them both in 2022, though Elvis now has ANOTHER album.

Most of the artists who put out their first albums in the 21st century, I learned about them from watching Saturday Sessions on CBS’ morning show. Regina Spektor and especially Jason Isbell are the examples that immediately come to mind.

The crux of the matter

“My point with my friend was: If you liked something for years, why don’t you listen to it anymore?” Well, I think it’s just how different minds work. I remember a trip to Cooperstown back in the 1990s, and we had Talking Heads’ Speaking in Tongues on probably the cassette player. And when Naive Melody (This Must Be The Place) came up, they did not remember it, even though they owned the album! They fell in love with it anew.

“I have a CD player in the car.” The new car does not, to the disappointment of both my wife and me.

“So my Question is: How do you consume your music? Do you listen to music?”

I consume my music almost constantly, roughly seven CDs per day. I had a portable CD player at work, and now at home. And I play them more or less systematically, based on the artist’s birthday. I play musicals in June and movie soundtracks in February. At some point – ooh, in 2007! – I wrote about that.

If I have no CD player, I’ve been known to go to my Amazon list, which is comprised not only of albums I’ve bought there but random freebies I don’t recognize.

“What do you do in the car if you don’t listen to music? Audiobooks? (Gasp) Silence? Let me know!!!!!” My wife will listen to National Public Radio. But if the daughter is listening – she often has her own devices – we’ll listen to the pop radio stations. And my wife has listened to books on tape.

With a good friend

I spent time with a good friend of mine sometime in the past five years. We were working on a project that was very dear to my heart. My friend threw themselves in with vigor and enthusiasm that suggested personal involvement. It was quite touching to me.

On day two, pretty much out of the blue, my friend said, “You know, I’m really sorry for all the…” And I cut them off. “YOU’RE sorry? I’m the one who ought to be apologizing!” And that was that because there was no useful reason to rehash our many individual failings over time because they remember, and I remember. And now, it’s all good.

Sometimes, you can follow the trajectory of a relationship over a lot of years. Thinking back, you wonder how you survived all of the Sturm und Drang that the relationship went through and come out okay. Actually, way better than okay.

The obvious Beatles reference

I’d been thinking a lot about how people enter and sometimes leave one’s circle. At a local store, I saw someone who used to work on my floor at work. I hadn’t seen them in three years, but we picked up as though almost no time had passed.

I have friends I’ve known since kindergarten, second grade, high school, or the first day of college, and we’re still in touch. In many ways, I’m a very lucky guy.

Even those relationships that seem to have faded away, I still find value in our time.

My goodness, this feels a lot like some of the lyrics of The Beatles’ song In My Life. Specifically, “I know I’ll never lose affection For people and things that went before.” When I was younger, I thought it was an overly sentimental song, and not in a good way. As I’ve gotten older, I find that I’ve become more sentimental and, occasionally, even sappy. So it goes.