Wordless Wednesday: (Pictures of me and Brandon taken June of '08 for a vintage calendar called "Better Than Cheesecake".)
( Pictures for the same calendar taken in October of '08- these are individual of me, though there were 8 other hot tamales involved as well, but I don't have their permission to post the pictures on my blog.)
It's no secret that I have a romantic relationship with music.
It started in my early childhood. My mother always had the radio on, and to this day, without music in the background, i feel naked- like one of those awkward dreams where everyone you know sees you wearing nothing but a vintage apron, and they keep talking to you like there's nothing wrong, but you know you're naked and trying to cover yourself? Oh- am i the only one who has those?
The stuff I was raised on isn't necessarily my favorite music. My mom has a very strange idea of what is 'moral' and 'appropriate.' It's much different than my own idea. For example, once, I was in the house alone during a summer home from college. I took a shower with my music blasting while i sang along.
The music? The Me First and the Gimme Gimmies Broadway Mix. I mean, stuff like "Tomorrow" from Annie, and "The Phantom of the Opera" from it's obvious production. I believe there were also songs on it like "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and that song that Kermit sings all the time "Why are there so many songs about rainbows...the lovers, the dreamers and me...la la la la la la la...." you know the one.
My mom, who had come home while I was in the shower, told me when I got out that if I ever played it in her house again, I was welcome to leave.
Okay- the songs were punk covers. I was rocking out to them instead of swaying gently. Still, the lyrics were the same. She felt the same way about most of my college music, including Blink 182, Ataris, the Ramones, Green Day, and Weezer (which is still one of my favorites, and I think it's positively adorable when my 2 year old busts out singing "GIRL!!! If you're wondering if I want you to, I want you to....") to name just a select few.
No, the stuff I was raised on was general Country (which, I DO still like, by the way.) and stuff like Billy Joel (LOVE him! I have not heard a song by him that I am not smitten with. ), Harry Chapin, B.J. Thomas, and that ilk. I probably heard a whole lot of Air Supply (ew) and somewhere I picked up a smattering of Queen, though they were never anyone I sought out. Simon and Garfunkel were on the top of my mom's list too, and Scarborough Fair was the song I fell asleep to many a night. Nights In White Satin by the Moody Blues was the first real song I learned to play on the piano.
When i was 9, I found my mom's collection of Beatles cassette tapes while digging in boxes in the basement, and of course I fell in love immediately, which spurred me into several years of listening to oldies, wearing gauze and parting my hair down the middle. The oldies station I listened to covered much more than just the 60's, and I still swoon whenever I hear Frankie Vallie, and In The Still of the Night by the Five Satins is still one of the most romantic songs ever- unless I revert to my college punk ways for the day, and then it's a toss up between "So long Astoria" by the Ataris or "The Sand" by the Hippos. Then again, there's "Glory of Love" cover by Newfound Glory....but then you have to think about all the other genres, and...okay, I can't pick a favorite romantic song. So sue me.My mom broke out the Rat Pack music around Christmas time, along with Harry Conick Jr., Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole. I don't remember WHEN exactly, but two more love affairs began shortly after I heard these.
Out of everything there is out there, while I will spend time simmering in my memories of college, and my carefree punk days, and revel in the juvenile romance and anger of that music, while I dig the Beatles, and occasionally throw on some oldies to hand jive to with my kids, the kind of music I regularly come back to, the music I drop all other tunes for, are Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. And they fight over me constantly.
The thing is, my first love was Frank (yes, we are on a first name basis here.) When I was 15, and Brandon and I were just good friends, i gave him a Sinatra CD for his birthday. I knew he listened to a heck of a lot of Metallica and all kinds of random hair bands from the 80's but I had no clue, really, that he loved Frank as much as I did.
I once heard Frank be called a "glorified lounge singer" - but oh, he does it so WELL! Of course, while digging through the 1940's style Jazzy type genre at Graywhale (my regular go-to place whenever i wanted to just go somewhere.) I was introduced to others like Count Bassie, Cab Calloway, Glen Miller, Doris Day, Billie Holliday, Ella Fitzgerald (the best FEMALE voice of the time, in my honest opinion.) and Louis Armstrong.
Among the infinite list of new singers I found, Dean Martin stood out. Over the years, I have collected a very impressive and eclectic library of music, and Frank and Dean appear in nearly a third of it.
I spent the entire day yesterday being a good housewife and cleaned the whole house, did all the laundry, and slaved over a delicious pot roast dinner in preparation for my long-lost (literally) cousin to come to our house. Of course, lest I feel naked, I played an array of music all day, which, of course, included Ella, Frank, Louis and a few hours of Big Bad Voodoo Daddy's. When I put Dean on last (because, admittedly, he was what I wanted to be playing when my cousin came over. This wasn't our first meeting, but it was going to be the first impression he had of our home and family. For some reason, I felt like Dean needed to be involved.) I got a small prick of guilt that nagged at the edge of my mind and heart throughout the CD.
When I finally sat and thought about it, wondering exactly what it was I felt guilty about, I surprised myself.