Betty better butter Brad's bread

That , my friends, is a tongue twister.
This blog, my friends, is a list.

You know my penchant for lists...referenced many times in past blogs, but none since my New Year's resolutions list (some of which I've still not broken)
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/12/take-five.html

Well, it's time for another one....and that was so last year. Literally.

I now present to you THE DEFINITIVE LIST OF THE 7 BEST OPENING LINES IN MUSIC.
Like my other lists, there is no disputing this list. You may have your own opinions, but they would be (like the other times) wrong.

Why seven do you ask ?...well because I started this out as twelve, but it was getting way to convoluted and became imminently clear to me that that I had to winnow it down a bit, hence the seven.
To avoid confusion (and because I like adding color to my blogs) my comments will be in red. The lyrics themselves will be in black. Got it?



Oh, I'll post a couple of the videos to a few of these, but mostly just the album covers (yes, albums...for crying out loud). Do yourself a favor...if any of these are unfamiliar to you, please, by all means, search them out and take a listen. Then thank me the next time you see me.


So, without further ado...
THE DEFINITIVE LIST OF THE BEST OPENING LINES IN MUSIC

7) Joe Jackson - Is She Really Going out with Him?

Pretty women out walking with gorillas down my street.
From my window I'm staring as my coffee grows cold.

What adolescent boy hasn't experienced these feelings, put so eloquently forth by Joe Jackson here? Christ, this practically brings back all three years of junior high for me in one line.


6). Dire Straits - Sultans of Swing

You get a shiver in the dark
It's raining in the park but meantime
South of the river you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowing Dixie double four time
You feel alright when you hear that music ring.

I am SO there. Outside on a cold drizzly evening...walking along a riverbank. You hear this incredible sound off in the distance-(although, for the life of me, I'm not so sure about the "Dixie double four time"...I've got a feeling it don't sound nothing like this song, but I love the description).
Love this song. No way it's not making the list.


5) Bob Dylan - Watching the River Flow



What's the matter with me,
I don't have much to say,
Daylight sneakin' through the window
And I'm still in this all-night cafe.
Walkin' to and fro beneath the moon
Out to where the trucks are rollin' slow,
To sit down on this bank of sand
And watch the river flow.


Another river song (funny, I always thought I was more of an ocean guy??). It's the juxtaposition (there's that word again) between laziness and restlessness. What's it gonna be Bob..up all night in this cafe', walking aimlessly under the setting moon, or sitting on the riverbank and do nothing but watch the river going by? Can't you feel it? Can't you? At least a little bit? Sure you can!


4) Bruce Springsteen - Blinded By The Light



Madman drummers bummers and indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat
With a boulder on my shoulder feelin kinda older I tripped the merry-go-round
With this very unpleasing sneezing and wheezing the calliope crashed to the ground
Stop it. Now. I could have included all 50 lines to this song, the lyrics are so ridiculously convoluted and brilliant, but I have to stick to the premise of just the opening lines, I'm keeping my promise. I was going to tackle this one once in one of my "true meaning behind the lyrics blogs" similar to thishttp://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/why-didnt-he-just-say-that-in-first.html...but the lyrics were so incredibly obtuse that I couldn't even begin to come up with the requisite skewering of the lyrics to squeeze even one drop of humor out of it. It was way too tough. At least I didn't think I was up for the task at the time....but now that I've laid down the proverbial gauntlet, who knows?
3) Elvis Costello - Radio Radio

I was tuning in the shine on the light night dial
Doing anything my radio advised
With every one of those late night stations
Playing songs bringing tears to my eyes
I know some of you are too young to believe, or even relate to this, but there was a time when radio mattered. Music wasn't all accessible as it is now...no itunes, no digital downloads, no music floating above us in the stratosphere. There was a time when google didn't exist....we needed to use dictionaries, and even...I hope you're sitting down...ENCYCLOPEDIAS. No kidding, there used to be these vast volumes of books that you had to look through and research to get the answers to life's mysteries...these books were SO voluminous, that you couldn't even fit all of the information in one book...sometimes ONE LETTER wouldn't even fit into one book. Mind blowing I know, but true. Oh, and if you missed the one night Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was on, that was it. You were SOL until next year. That sucked. That happened to me one year because we had to go see this house on Summit street in Portland that did his yard up in a BIG WAY at Christmas...it would pull people from all over Greater Portland to look at his plastic snowmen and inflated snowglobes and decorated trees and Charlie Brown figures and ...................................................
PHEW
Enough of the rant, I like this one because it brings me back to listening to the radio in bed at night , waiting for your favorite song to come on. That's all.
2) The Band - The Weight

I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead
I just need some place where I can lay my head
"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"
He just grinned and shook my hand, "no" was all he saidC'mon, what's not to love about this one? Don't you love the image of this meeting? That one line "He just grinned and shook my hand, "no" was all he said" might be my favorite line. EVER. IN ANY SONG. OF ALL TIME. Seriously.
Finally....down to number one. Per usual, these lists don't actually have much substance, in regard to what the list is supposed to be about, now, does it? That's not the point though...it's about the journey. Sometimes the journey is to nowhere, but one I hope you enjoy going along with me.
OK. Number one.1) The Beatles - In My Life
There are places I'll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
No way I'm not going with a Beatles song as number one. This one does it for me.... Play this one at my funeral and I'll be smiling down on you (or, God forbid, smiling up at you)...play this one at my daughter's weddings...play this one at the local hopscotch tournament...play it loud...play it soft. Just play it. Repeatedly. Let it soak into your soul and be at one with your DNA. You'll be a better person because of it. Trust me. Would I lie to you ? 
So that's it. My top seven opening lyrics of all time. No debating allowed. You'd be wrong and I am right.
....except I've already changed my mind about four of these...and it will be all seven by tomorrow.
Have fun. 

Drowning above water

Alright, I wasn't going to, but I am...



Tomorrow is the 2nd anniversary of the passing of my Dad (if that's something you actually commemorate with an "anniversary"). I wasn't going to write about it, since I don't see a lot of humor about that subject, and these blogs - for anyone that has ever read one of them - are mostly irreverent. There's a word Dad probably never used. Irreverent. Well, he would have used it, but he would have used it as "irrevelent"....which isn't even a word (but it is close), but Dad made up all kinds of words. One of the reasons I loved him. He also said "everythink"....and "acrosst". All the time. I never corrected him. Why bother? I knew what he meant.

So let's see where this one goes....

Mom was (and is) the musical one, but Dad listened to his share of music as well.
Here's one he liked. I like it too.

The photo at the top of my blogs is a picture of my Dad. If you didn't know better you'd think it was from one of those "Our Gang" or "Little Rascals" serials. It's not. That's the real McCoy.
This isn't.


I love that picture of Dad...what a character. I love seeing it at the top of the page when I write and read these horrific blogs of mine. It makes me feel that Dad is doing them with me, although he's not...and never would have. Remember, his command of the written word was not his strongest suit. Doesn't matter.

So, two years ago tomorrow. Christ. Really? Can it be? It can't. Without going into great detail of his death, the tragedy and the sorrow, let me just say this. It was as peaceful as it could have been. The whole family had been on a bedside vigil for about 24 hours, thinking each one of those hours could be his last...expecting one to be his last...almost hoping one to be his last. When the time finally came, we almost missed it. It just ended. No fanfare...no great last revelation...no epiphany from above. Just emptiness. Disbelief. Sorrow and relief. When it was over we almost felt like, "Now what?. What do we do now that Dad is gone?". Surreal.

I went home that afternoon...a little sleep deprived...sat in the corner of the living room in silence...and five minutes later, had this.
______________________________________________________________________

Drowning above water

How does it feel to drown, but not underwater?

My Dad did it year after year.

How do you walk, talk, be a normal human being

When everything consumes you with fear?

Remember how you once stood tall and proud?

There was no place you could go

Without seeing someone you knew

With a smile a wink and a pat on the back you’d always say hello.

To me you were always a hero, Ted Williams, Bob Cousy,

Johnny Cash or John Wayne.

You were so proud and confident and strong

Before your days were filled with pain.

Then you became something more.

I saw you with all your flaws.

I saw you fail, and get knocked down

And then that gave me pause.

You didn’t need to be a hero

To be famous to me

Your biggest gift was showing me how to love

And not be afraid to let others see.

Your influence on me is enormous

I’ll always look up to you

I’ll never be as great as you were

But finally my dreams for you have come true.

So now there’s no more drowning

No more fear, no more shame

Now you’re flying in the breeze

No more fears - you won - you overcame.

_______________________________________________________________

Maybe not my best, but Mom liked it...it made her feel good, and that made me feel good....and it just came. No rewrites, no editing, it just came. Maybe a little healing took place in those five minutes it took me to come up with that. Grief can't be explained, the time it takes to recover... no one really knows. 

Enough with the maudlin. I'm going to swing by to visit my Dad tomorrow. Tell him about my youngest leading her basketball team in scoring...how she got elected to the 4th grade school council...how my oldest is now living on her own and doing so well with her career...and...well, you know? maybe he knows all that already. Maybe I'll just go and hang out for awhile.

I'll leave you with two things...

anyone that uses the word "titstick" the next time I see them will get either a handshake, a hug, or a kiss (whichever is most appropriate)...if you need a reminder on that one, here it is...

http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/09/last-night-i-dreamt-i-went-to-manderlay.html

and, I've still got a boxful of ashes waiting to be scattered, anyone got a way for me to get to the pitchers mound of Fenway Park?

Whitney Houston

This blog has nothing to do with Whitney Houston, but I thought the topical title might be the hook.

This will be one of those random blogs. There's your fair warning.

Actually, one Whitney Houston comment...my oldest daughter shares the same name (maybe not so coincidentally - Whitney Houston was HUGE when she was born, which also explains why there is a plethora of Whitneys between the ages of 20-24) and, this is coincidentally, the same birthday.

Small world.

This was the number one song the week Whitney Houston was born.
Fingertips Part 2. "Little Stevie" Wonder.

"Little Stevie" was 12 years old here. Like his music or not (and when you really get down to it, who doesn't like at least a little Stevie Wonder...not to be confused with "Little Stevie" Wonder), there's no denying that this guy was not a musical genius. In the league with Lennon and McCartney, Ray Davies, Mozart, Hendrix, and Eddie Money. (I'm kidding about one of those...up to you to guess which one).

As an adult, "Little Stevie" grew up to be a BIG man. I'm talking Pompatus of Pete big. My lovely wife once rode on the same flight with him. Stevie (notice I've dropped the little at this point) was in first class and my wife was at the front of business class (or whatever the airlines now call where the commoners sit). She had a direct sight line to him for the whole flight and couldn't take her eyes off of him. It got to the point where Stevie actually turned around a couple of times and said "Are you looking at me?"...which is really something, since we all know Stevie Wonder is blind. Not that it matters, but he was wearing some sort of mumu or African robe or some such thing. Maybe not the best look for a big man.




Random shifting of gears about to take place here...

I'm going through elementary school for the second time as a parent with quite a gap between the two. The first time I was on the young side. I would have been about 28 or 29 when my first daughter started kindergarten. This time I was fairly well established into my 40's when my youngest daughter started. Somehow I've now become one of the older parents at school.

It had slowly been sinking in that that was my standing, but I've been getting hit over the head with it lately. I'm wishing all of these parents a happy 40th birthday on facebook (When I turned 40 the twin towers still existed.....actually, that's incorrect, but you're following my drift)...at parties with the other parents the music turns to the 80's - everybody knows any proper party only consists of music from the 60's and 70's...and after my daughters basketball practice they're all amazed that a guy my age can still shoot a basketball. (although none would be surprised by my inability to run up and down the court).

There's good and bad aspects of this. One good is that other parents look to and listen to you for your experience. One bad is that other parents look to and listen to you for your experience. Although I've certainly learned from some mistakes I may have made the first go round I'm far from an expert. I have learned a few things that I do readily share with anyone that will listen. My oldest has turned into a wonderful young lady, so trust me, I know these work.

1. You kid's friends mean everything. It does make a difference. This applies to their friends parents as well.
2. PARTICIPATE. Sports, theater, clubs, it doesn't matter what it is, but it does matter. Really. it does.
3. Parents be involved. As they get older the opportunities decrease for personal interaction within the confines of school...take advantage of it now while you can.
4. Homework matters. Teach the skills of responsibility while they're young and it stays with them for the rest of their lives.
5. Read. Read. Read. Read. No debate allowed on this one.

I thought that picture deserved to be bigger than the others.

Speaking of reading, (another random shift here) I'll occasionally try and read a classic that I had never read before.
This time it's Moby Dick. It's not going well. I wonder if it's because I'm reading it on a Kindle and not a book. There's a lot to be said about technology, but I'm a bit torn on this one. There truly is something to be said about the feel of a book in your hands. The smell of the pages. The process of reopening it to your bookmarked page. The progress felt as you turn each page. I don't know. This is a guy that's not so sure that digital music sounds better than an album.


That's it for now. I'm going to go see if I've got a Whitney Houston album buried somewhere in the basement. That's as long as I can make down and then back up the stairs.

Peace and love to all...

...oh, and I might spin into the library to pick up a copy of Moby Dick...or maybe Don Quixote.

truth be told

OK, deep breath......
A while back I posted the explanation to lyrics to a popular song.
In case you didn't catch it the first time, here it is again

http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/why-didnt-he-just-say-that-in-first.html

Basically, I told the story of the hidden meaning behind the lyrics of a popular song. I had dozens (well, maybe not dozens) of people thank me for helping to provide them the insight into what the writer was truly trying to convey in his song. Although it's not true that I will be teaching a course next semester at the Select Institute of Music Professional Lyricists Employers of Maine (SIMPLE ME), it is true that I will occasionally bore you with hidden meanings to other songs (usually when I'm bereft of other things to write about).

As with the first one, this is my interpretation of what the TRUE meaning behind the lyrics are. These are undisputedly accurate. If you don't believe me, that's your cross to bear, not mine.

So...without further ado....(and since I'm just back from the Sunshine state)

Summer Breeze

This was told to me personally by Jim Seals (the one with the goatee) in 1977. Little known fact, Jim was one hell of a basketball player. He shared a backcourt with Pistol Pete Maravich at LSU in the late 60's and probably would have gone on to play in the NBA if it wasn't for the freak accident at Mardis Gras in 1970, that led to his having to wear a cap at all times and never cut his hair for the rest of his life.

An even littler known fact was that Jim lived in a trailer park in Scarborough Maine in the late 70's (actually, he Summered there. Jim was a bit...how shall we say...offbeat).




Jim coached my Summer league basketball team one year when our original coach had to pay off a gambling bet by substituting for that guy that used to guess your weight, or age, or name, or shoe size, down at Old Orchard Beach

....but that's a different story.



I remember the exact moment. It was the last practice of the Summer and I had come in last place in running suicides...which I had every time I ran suicides that Summer...I was feeling a little down (actually looking back on it, I think it was exhaustion), and to make me feel better (and to take my mind off of the iv that was being administered to me) Jim told me the true meaning of this song.


So here it is....

Lyrics in black...my comments in red


Summer Breeze

See the curtains hangin' in the window, in the evenin' on a Friday night.
The curtains were there for a reason. Jim was growing marijuana in the back yard and had thousands of pot plants drying in every room of his house. The curtains were needed for the privacy that he needed to not draw attention from the law...or as he used to say to me, "the Man."

A little light a-shinin' through the window, lets me know everything is alright.
This is a reference to the motion sensitive spot lights that he had throughout the yard.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
"Summer Breeze" was a euphemism for getting high on marijuana. Amateurs would say things like "wanna get high?"...or "got any weed?"...or so I'm told.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
Jasmine was code amongst growers for marijuana.

See the paper layin' in the sidewalk, a little music from the house next door.
The paper was actually Zig Zags, commonly used in the trade to "roll joints"...or so I'm told


So I walked on up to the doorstep, through the screen and across the floor.
Being perpetually high, Jim would often forget to open the screen door, just walking through it instead. This added considerable cost to the operation.




Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
subliminal messaging
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
subliminal messaging

Sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom. July is dressed up and playing her tune.
Summer was the height of the harvest season. Unfortunately there was also a fair amount of product sampling during the harvest. Jim doesn't remember if July was just a misspelling of the name Julie (he vaguely remembers a Julie being around then), or if he was going for a play on words,,,apparently pot affects your memory...or so I'm told.



And I come home from a hard day's work, and you're waiting there, not a care in the world.
Not having a care in the world was obviously another side affect.



See the smile a-waitin' in the kitchen, food cookin' and the plates for two.



See the arms that reach out to hold me, in the evening when the day is through.
Unfortunately the story has a sad ending. The arms that reached out to hold him actually is a reference to the police waiting for him at home to handcuff him. To this day he doesn't know if it was "July" that ratted him out....or possibly the new sign he put out in the front yard.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
Is it working yet?
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
Do you have this sudden need to go to the closest 7-11 and pop a burrito into the microwave?
_______________________________________________________________________________


So that's the true story behind the lyrics to Summer Breeze. Who knew that such a seemingly innocent ode to Summer had such a dark side to it.

By the way, Jim was completely drug free the Summer that he coached us. I'm not so sure about his two assistant coaches though...


Have a nice (drug free) day.....