Category Archives: Music

While it was Mom who brought me to my first concert (Peter, Paul & Mary) it was my friend Ann who took me to my first rock concert – and it was an initiation by brilliant fire: Guns ‘N Roses at Saratoga Performing Arts Center right between their ‘Appetite For Destruction’ and ‘Use Your Illusion’ albums. In other words, it was lightning in a bottle (and in the liner notes for one of the ‘Illusion’ albums the band thanked the SPAC audience which was part of one of the cuts). It was an epic show, one that I heard perfectly fine even through the cotton I’d shoved in my ears (just in case). In reality, the volume was easy managed by the scrappy teenager I was; I’d been throttling Madonna at the same decibels for years. While I enjoyed the performance, it was the time with friends that mattered the most, and I still remember the carefree fun and abandon I felt as we roamed the grassy realm of SPAC without parents.

Woke up to the sound of pouring rain
The wind would whisper and I’d think of you
And all the tears you cried, that called my name
And when you needed me I came through

I paint a picture of the days gone by
When love went blind and you would make me see
I’d stare a lifetime into your eyes
So that I knew that you were there for me
Time after time you there for me

For that show, the opening band was Skid Row – they were just becoming big too, and a few years later we would see them headline their own tour. Ann was with me for that one as well – she adored Sebastian Bach. That particular show was memorable for the full-frontal flashing he did (right while I was in the bathroom, thank you Sebastian), and I remember Autumn’s parents driving us there on some crazy summer night.

Remember yesterday, walking hand in hand
Love letters in the sand, I remember you
Through the sleepless nights through every endless day
I’d want to hear you say, I remember you

Ann has been of my mind lately, as have a few of my friends that go way back – perhaps it’s the slow-roll to fifty that we are all on right now. She is visiting next weekend with Missy, and the three of us always have a fun time reminiscing and picking up right where we left off – as if no time had passed and we were still in high school, laughing life off. Things are different now, and life has worn all of us down, so I think we are looking for relief and rejuvenation in our friendship. There is something incredibly soothing for the soul when you surround yourself with safe people who have known you at your worst and still can’t help but love you.

We spent the summer with the top rolled down
Wished ever after would be like this
You said I love you babe, without a sound
I said I’d give my life for just one kiss
I’d live for your smile and die for your kiss

We spent our summers more carelessly back when we were young, free from all responsibility and worry, back when kids – even teenagers – could just be kids and not work or do something constructive at all hours of the day. It was a time to simply be, and I’m forever grateful that we had that. It made us aware that such peace existed, that living could be slowing down to sleep in, stay out late, and turn the music up so loud it shook the house. We were luckier than we realized then, and I’m glad to realize it again now.

I’m looking forward to seeing my friends again.

Remember yesterday, walking hand in hand
Love letters in the sand, I remember you
Through the sleepless nights through every endless day
I’d want to hear you say, I remember you

We’ve had our share of hard times
But that’s the price we paid
And through it all we kept the promise that we made
I swear you’ll never be lonely

You have so many relationships in this life
Only one or two will last
You go through all the pain and strife
Then you turn your back and they’re gone so fast
Oh, so hold on the ones who really care
In the end, they’ll be the only ones there
When you get old, start losing your hair
Can you tell me who will still care?

Anu summed up our summer weekend reunion perfectly and succinctly, with the poignant realization that we have led a shared tapestry of charmed lives, and all those times when we wondered if we had it together, questioning whether we had found or achieved happiness – they were the moments, they were the charm – right around us, in our hugs, in our reunions, in our holidays, in the children of our lives, in the friends and in the family we’ve become.

The weekend almost didn’t come together at first, my suddenly-poor planning skills failing as the weekend coincided almost precisely with when Mercury entered retrograde motion. It struck Anu and Kristen first, as they ran out of gas shortly after entering the state of New York. How a car runs out of gas in this day and age proved the fuel for an entire weekend of questions and commentary, when talk wasn’t on Costco.

Suzie was the next one almost-felled, as she found her own car in the mechanic’s hands, where the power-steering needed some tinkering. The boys made it in without trauma or set-back – Tommy drove up from NY and Chris flew in from Detroit – and by Friday at midnight we were six once more.

With the happy, lifelong exception of Suzie, I didn’t meet these wonderful people until 1995, but it was as if the universe had saved them for when I needed them the most. The ensuing three decades would bring us through weddings, break-ups, funerals, births, holidays, vacations, and the undulating wear-and-tear of life. I understood what Anu meant – even in our heartache and hurt, we were there for each other, and we’ve always been charmed and lucky in that way.

There is always going to be trauma and drama to overcome in every life – finding the tribe of people who are going to help you through it – and to see you through the humor and happiness in every trying moment – is the simple secret to getting through the wilderness.

Our home glows differently when it is filled with adored guests, and this particular group of people – magical by all accounts – make wherever we may find ourselves at any given moment a home.

Plant a seed, plant a flower, plant a rose
You can plant any one of those
Keep planting to find out which one grows
It’s a secret no one knows
It’s a secret no one knows
Oh, no one knows

Our talk topics are a little different these days, but the laughter and the love are the same – and there’s no one else with whom I’d rather navigate this second half of life.

A bonus song dedication to Anu and Tommy.

IYKYK.

See you in November…

Summer sometimes seems deceptively sweet, carelessly benign as its sun beats down and lends a false aspect of cheer to whatever might be crumbling in the world around us. Strange really, as heartache knows no seasonal bounds, and occasionally summer’s relentless sweetness is a slap in the face when you’re faced with sadness. That sort of contradiction is rife throughout the memories of this song – ‘Toy Soldiers’ by Martika, of ‘Kids Incorporated’ fame.

It wasn’t my intention to mislead you
It never should have been this way
What can I say?
It’s true, I did extend the invitation
I never knew how long you’d stay

When you hear temptation call
It’s your heart that takes
Takes the fall
(Won’t you come out and play with me?)

Step by step, heart to heart (heart to heart)
Left, right, left, we all fall down (all fall down)
Like toy soldiers
Bit by bit (bit by bit), torn apart (torn apart)
We never win, but the battle wages on
For toy soldiers

In July of 1989, the song went to number one, which is when I remember it – and in many ways this was the section of life when music started mattering, when a song melded itself to a moment. I was thirteen years old, about to turn fourteen, and it feels far away. There are elements that are unrecognizable to me, and elements that are still very much the same. That’s the age the soul is said to solidify into what it will be for life. A powerful age, a tender age, an impossible age. How much we load onto ourselves without realizing it…

It’s getting hard to wake up in the morning
My head is spinning constantly
How can it be?
How could I be so blind to this addiction?
If I don’t stop, the next one’s gonna be me

The specifics of that summer escape me, but if I think back hard enough and reinhabit that section of youth, I remember feeling the dangers of growing up, while wanting nothing more than to be older and out in the world – the first stirrings of a restless heart. Throughout that summer Martika sang this plaintive song (reportedly about a friend enthralled in drug addiction) and though I had no idea what it was about, it called to me with all its 80’s glory. To this day, it reminds me of summer – the darker underside of summer – always there in the shade, in the shadows, in the night…

Only emptiness remains
It replaces all
All the pain
(Won’t you come out and play with me?)

Step by step, heart to heart (heart to heart)
Left, right, left, we all fall down (all fall down)
Like toy soldiers
Bit by bit (bit by bit), torn apart (torn apart)
We never win, but the battle wages on
For toy soldiers

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
Looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and they snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

When the words are taken away, when the voice is silenced, we still have the music, we still have the melody. Once, several years ago, I wrote a blog post using this Joni Mitchell song, but I cannot find it anymore. Like the rest of this site, one day it will all be lost – bits and pieces and fragments of whatever technological remnants might remain won’t ever come together like you see them here. Nothing lasts forever.

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way that you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way

But now it’s just another show
And you leave ’em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away

The sky was troubled on the night these photos were taken, on the night these words are being written. This moment will be over and done by the time anyone reads this post, and this precious capsule of time will have passed. But I can play it over again in my mind, like the way this song remains in memory, as long as I can remember, as long as I might pass it on.

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say, “I love you, ” right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way

Oh, but now old friends, they’re acting strange
And they shake their heads and they tell me that I’ve changed
Well, something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day

As I write this, the friends I met thirty years ago are scheduled to arrive tomorrow for a weekend of catching up and reminiscing, and maybe that’s why I’m feeling slightly nostalgic and contemplative – my ‘pensive pony’ pose as a former paramour once described this mood. Maybe it’s just Mercury in retrograde. As I perused a shirt in a store earlier tonight, it reminded me of my favorite Uncle – it was something he would have worn, likely selected by his wife and of no great concern to him, clothes not mattering as much as other things, and I almost started crying for the tender innocence of some men, and the tender guilt of all of us.

I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all

The Buck Moon shone this week, fucking things up like only a full moon can, and Mercury will soon be in retrograde motion through August, so everything is about to get wonky. As if Mars entering Virgo wasn’t enough, Uranus is also in Gemini, so all hell is about to break loose for anyone toying with the idea of fucking with a Virgo right now. If you’ve seen the new ‘Dune’ movies, you have an idea of how I intend to handle the astrological sandworm monsters about to come my way: picture me harnessing all the energy and transforming all the fuckery into potent, piercing, damning empirical evidence like only a Virgo can.

A song then, deceptively mellow, for a deceptive summer.

I’ll dig my talons in like an eagle and ride those sandworms into the ground, as if I’d strapped a pair of great whites onto my feet and decided to surf the seal-heavy shore. Anyone can become a hunter when the moon enters their soul. Virgos are said to be entering their villain era with all of the astrological events currently in motion. Last fall I thought I might have turned to the darkness, but I ended up pulling most of those punches. This year that won’t be the case, and summer has me feeling all kinds of punchy.

Gloria Estefan has never quite achieved the respect she’s deserved, and perhaps it’s from videos like this. I love its ridiculous visuals, and the bop of a song behind it. Summer Fridays are a good fit for such a song. It’s happy music, somewhat silly music, and perfect music for a summer weekend.

There’s a party to be had on any given summer Friday – and that’s a vibe we should carry with us each and every day of summer. I’m trying to remember that – trying to slow these sunny days, to still the summer – perhaps even more than I willed such magic in my childhood. Maybe I feel the quickening advance of time, ticking away faster and faster. On some objective plane, time may be consistent. Most of us feel it going by quicker as the years pass, even when it’s not the case.

And so I say dance – make your wishes and dance – just like Gloria.

Chased by demons both real and imagined, he runs down metallic stairs that echo against their concrete walls. This song runs through his head, adding to the intrigue with its dramatic push and driving beat. It is mood music, the soundtrack to an action sequence that drives the narrative while engaging with an underlying tension. Summer crafts a different sort of drama – heightened, feverish, and slightly more sinister than perhaps any other time of the year. Summer is supposed to be easy, so when trauma does rear its head, it somehow feels a little bit worse. Or a little more exciting. Life depends so much on interpretation and attitude.

Back to the opening sentence, and our protagonist, always some version of myself either current or past or even future, is running through the stairs of a Russian hotel during the summer of 1990. I was chasing myself, seeking the boy I used to be, and the man I was on the verge of becoming, and not quite catching up to either. I was just beginning to understand the art of conjuring drama, of telling a story, of being of such peaked interest to people that you stayed on their mind even and especially when absent. And in the absence of apparent love, this is what the adolescent does to emotionally survive.

The art of making an impression.

And so I ran, in the movie of my mind, and on an actual day when my absence might have been a matter of interest had anyone bothered to notice. La Habanera danced before my head, and I found a means of escape, and exit. Outside the hotel, the air was warm. A Russian night unfurled in the forest beyond the hotel grounds. Summer demands exploration, and danger bound inextricably to the fabric of discovery. The point of innocence is often only seen in its unraveling.