“Just take those old records off the shelf
I’ll sit and listen to ’em by myself
Today’s music ain’t got the same soul
I like that old time rock ‘n’ roll”

— Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band, “Old Time Rock & Roll”

“Don’t leave me this way, no
I can’t survive, I can’t stay alive without your love
Baby, don’t leave me this way”

— Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes, “Don’t Leave Me This Way”

There’s an old hoary chestnut about how you become more conservative as you age. The kernel of truth behind that adage doesn’t necessarily apply to political views; in fact, one can become more liberal with age even if they started out solidly liberal. The truly proper way to interpret the belief is to acknowledge that our preferences, tastes, and inclinations calcify with age — our desire to try new things withers and we become more risk adverse. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean we don’t find new ways to enjoy the things that have always given us pleasure.

Music is a wonderful example. Every generation thinks the music their children enjoy is awful. In the ‘50s, parents hated the emerging rock & roll their teens listened to. Then, when their kids were teenagers, they didn’t care for rap and the other forms of music emerging during the ‘80s. Now those former teenagers, such as myself, are themselves three decades years older and find it difficult to appreciate the artistic merit in the autotuned, overly-produced sounds of what passes for most current pop music. Yet, each generation of parents who still loves listening to music continues to seeks out new material to enjoy.

For this particular dad, the search predominantly takes two forms. Outside of the new (to me) artists I’ve encountered on various NPR programs, it’s easiest to simply follow already beloved artists and listen to their output, no matter how entrenched they may be with their sound and style. Unfortunately, no matter how hard musicians try, the overwhelming majority of them have well-delineated range they simply work best within. They all typically mine this zone for everything it’s worth. The ones that don’t simply stay within their comfort zone then typically work out from the margins while simultaneously reworking/reinterpreting old themes and even rearranging old favorites. Springsteen fans, for example, can tell you all about the many songs he has reimagined using new arrangements. Those artists that attempt anything radically different, more often than not, frequently encounter indifference from the long-time fans that can become, in worst case scenarios like Metallica, utterly hostility. A few truly good artists successfully manage to expand their repertoire, but they are rare

The other option: explore the back catalog. Admittedly, this wasn’t easy before today’s era of streaming music. Because the current rock/pop paradigm literally began in the ‘50s, a teenager from that time already knew a good amount of what already existed when faced with changes in the direction of pop/rock of their children. However, for this ‘80s teenager, and those that came later, there was three decades or more of music that hadn’t appeared on the current cultural radar for some time — at least not on the radio stations that predominantly focused on new music, regardless of musical genre. Yes, the cultural stepping stones, such as The Beatles and songs such as “Hotel California” become timeless standards. However, there remains plenty of good, older music that younger listeners need to actively seek out. 

Personal case in point: Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes. Despite spending a significant portion of my childhood and early adult years living in the greater Philadelphia area, their hometown, until recently this band was a great unknown. Knowing that Teddy Pendergrass was a R&B singer of note did not equate to awareness that he was the lead singer of The Blue Notes during the early ‘70s, the period in which they had many of their greatest hits. Even worse: the Blue Notes song I knew best was a cover version of their original.

Nothing against Thelma Houston’s disco cover “Don’t Leave Me This Way.” It’s a solid dance version of the song. However, the full impact of the lyrics get lost in the translation: in comparison, Houston barely implies the emotional urgency and anguish Pendergrass evokes. Hell, it feels like Houston will stay alive without her lover by dancing night away. Pendergrass, on the other hand, sounds he absolutely won’t survive being left that way; he sounds distraught — especially during his various exclamations and pleads during the fade out.

It seems odd that Houston’s cover, and not the original, is the one enshrined in the cultural metaconsciousnes. Yes, it was a bigger hit, but once you’ve heard Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes’ original recording, it feels somewhat milquetoast — though nowhere near as much as the original recording of “Try a Little Tenderness” sounds when compared to Otis Redding’s definitive reinterpretation. Though I’ll happily listen to her Houston’s dance version in the right circumstances, I’ll be thinking about Pendergrass’s whenever I do so.

Harold Melvin and The Blue Notes
”Don’t Leave Me This Way”
Wake Up Everybody
1975

Hall of Songs: 2019 Inductee

“I liked pop. I liked soul. I liked rock, but I never liked disco.”
— Everclear, “AM Radio”

“Who the hell are we fooling? This isn’t really what we do. We had to borrow these keyboards. We only listen to Mötley Crüe.”

— Bowling for Soup, “A Really Cool Dance Song”

It took a long time to admit liking any dance music at all. Despite being a teenager who claimed to fervently embrace individuality, acknowledging enjoyment in any kind of song expressly recorded to make your body move seemed like a form of moral failure. The thought that anyone might discover I enjoyed any kind of dance music resulted in feeling a foreboding sense of dread. Bruce Springsteen, ZZ Top, The Beatles, Prince, Sting, Van Halen… these were the artists that mattered. Huey Lewis and the News and “Weird” Al also mattered, but the less that’s said about that, the better.

In retrospect, this is absurd. Aside from the logical inconsistency of being a proud individual who didn’t want anyone thinking he liked certain musical genres, a significant number of the songs I enjoyed also appeared on the dance charts. In fact, many of the acceptable artists and pop hits in the ‘80s also appeared in the dance charts. The fact that one could actually shake their rump to Prince’s “When Doves Cry,” Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This),” or Thomas Dolby’s “She Blinded Me With Science” was simply an unacknowledged coincidence. It was kind of like a don’t ask, don’t tell situation — not that there’s anything wrong with that.

This reticence to accept the truth was certainly reinforced by the terror induced by the thought of actually dancing. Like a significant number of teenage boys, every single attempt at rhythmically my body to the beat resulted in motions similar to those of a robot’s spastic movements whilst experiencing widespread system failure. I recall one friend valiantly attempting to teach me how to dance in junior year of high school. All her efforts were doomed from the start by my absolute inability to overcome any feelings of self-consciousness engendered by even the slightest attempt to move shoulders or hips to the beat.

Alas, it’s three decades later, and I still don’t dance. I know… As Annie Savoy said in Bull Durham, “How sad.” Many women, including my wife, have managed to drag this poor boy onto a dance floor only to barely escape accidental injury. No one can determine whether the blood alcohol content in each of those instances was a mitigating or aggravating influence.

Despite those ill-advised attempts at shaking my groove thing, the teenage stubbornness regarding dance music faded. It’s now easy to openly enjoy the dance songs that sound appealing. Oh, they are the minority when it comes to the types of genres and songs that typically receive airplay, but there’s no attempt to hide or downplay how much I enjoy them. Yet, songs that are parodies or tongue-in-cheek renditions of dance songs bring a special enjoyment of their own. 

That’s the area “A Really Cool Dance Song” falls into. It’s kinda-sorta a dance song, and the whether or not the lyrics are accurate portray Bowling for Soup’s musical taste, it is by far the closest they’ve come to writing a dance song — even though it’s abundantly clear that they are treating the exercise as a well-intentioned joke. Unfortunately, Bowling for Soup is one of those bands that have an exceedingly narrow range, and by the time they released this track, they had mined their musical talent for every song it was worth. Oh, but what a great job did they of getting maximum value out it.

This song almost makes me want to go up and dance.

Almost.

Bowling for Soup
“A Really Cool Dance Song”
Sorry for Partyin’
2009

Hall of Songs: 2019 inductee

Back in 2013, for our own amusement and listening pleasure, Sally and I compiled individual lists of our all-time favorite songs. We selected respectively 100 and 120, with my list dubbed a “Hall of Songs” that made minimal efforts at sorting. She followed that by impressively composing a brief Facebook post for each song, while a similar project on my former LiveJournal page fizzled out after 43 songs and remains unfinished. (You can still access all those posts via the post about “Walk,” by the Foo Fighters.)

The original concept included a plan to revisit the lists five years later. Given exposure to new music, as well as additional listening to the selections and to those that just missed the cut, what changes would those lists undergo? Last year, as planned, we started revisiting those songs. During the interim, though, the original plan mutated. Instead of reviewing and revising, Sally chose to compile a new list of 100: the 100 songs not in her original 100 favorites that she’s enjoying the most these days. Conversely, 80 new songs will join the Hall of Songs to create my expanded list of 200 all-time favorites, with the original selections remaining unaltered.

Unfortunately, much like the aborted series of LiveJournal posts, work on revisiting those lists remains incomplete. However, progress is gradually creeping along. As the work continues on that project, I decided to challenge myself with rather structured writing project — despite a spectacularly long and inglorious history of dormant, unfinished projects (writing and otherwise). So, as the work on adding to the Hall of Songs continues, I will begin a series of a song-a-week posts. 

These weekly posts can take many different forms. Song associations, feelings the song engenders, thoughts about the lyrics/music, something tangentially related in the most tenuous way possible… anything, with no constraints or targets on length. The posts will go up in no particular order, and there may even be posts about songs that didn’t get selected for the Hall on either occasion. The point is to challenge myself and rise to the occasion. The smart betting money regarding how long the project lasts would certainly go on the posts halting well before 43 are posted — hell, I’d bet against myself too. However, that’s the whole point of a challenge; it shouldn’t be easy. 

So, the first post goes up this weekend. Let’s see how far the project goes.