Tag Music

That’s what happiness is!

Michael 2 Comments

A couple days ago I was doing my housework and had just completed the vacuuming part of the dust and vacuum routine. I looked across the room as I was stowing the machine’s cord and broke out into a big smile. I might have broken out in song but if so I was singing subconsciously. If I was singing at all, I would have been singing along with the Ray Conniff Singers as they warbled they way through the 1966 Parnes and Evans composition, “Happiness Is,” for few things instigate as big a smile on my face as seeing those parallel tracks of the vacuum wheels across a newly cleaned carpet. I was struck so happy by the event, I actually remarked on it to a friend later in the day, questioning if she too experiences that odd joy. “No,” she literally deadpanned, “but the husband does. It must be a guy thing,” and dismissed the entire event as something only half the world could enjoy.

Eh. She’s probably right. In fact, vacuum tracks in carpets bring inordinate happiness to probably even less than half the world because I know for sure there are way more men who haven’t even pushed a vacuum around a living room to have seen such a remarkable sight. To them, an oil pan drain plug not leaking after a DIY oil change likely brings that profound happiness.  The point is, as Ray’s singers will have you singing along, happiness is “different things to different people!”

These aren’t the pillars of happiness: life, liberty, and the pursuit of really big, life changing events. These are the little things that are part of getting us from one hour to the next, the things that turn drudgery into if not joy, at least something faintly tolerable.

It won’t solve all of earth’s problems, but it is possible that if we spent more time enjoying what makes us happy and less time becoming frustrated when we can’t figure it why we aren’t as happy as others doing what makes them happy, or worse trying to foist our idea of happiness onto anyone else, we might all end up a little happier. And happier people are less likely to instigate world wars.

People are unique. Even people who grow up together, live together, and love together, don’t have to love everything about each other. Yes, it is the differences among people that make us collectively great, but it is appreciating the differences and encouraging others to pursue those differences that bring them happiness that make us collectively awesome!

Somewhere in your psyche is some quirk of life that brings you immense joy. Relish in the quirk and savor that joy. Don’t give it up for anybody and if somebody should ever admit to you that they get untold happiness from hearing the creak of a rocking chair, encourage them to creak all they want and hope they someday will encourage you to continue chasing your dream of parallel tracks on carpets, or whatever makes you smile at the enjoyment of living life. Because, that’s what happiness is.

What’s your happiness?

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Happiness Is

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Making Beautiful Music Together

Michael 2 Comments

For some reason I was thinking of a time ago when my daughter was a teenager filling her after school day hours with after school activities. Two of those activities, or one with two arms perhaps, were concert band and marching band when she played flute and piccolo respectively. The thing about those particular winds is that, except for perhaps in the fingers of Ian Anderson, they rarely play much that by themselves would be recognizable as good music. While she would practice, I couldn’t be sure she was playing the right notes but during the performances, with the other winds, strings, and percussion, all the individual pieces came together to form true music. Every now and then an instrument might be featured in a solo but for far longer the group played ensemble to make the really good stuff.

In a sappy poetic way, America is like those bands. Alone, we don’t sound like much. We’re single instruments playing random notes that make little sense alone. If you put all the piccolos together, they still don’t make much musical sense, only now they make little sense louder. Likewise, groups of like-thinking individuals spouting the same lines make little sense even when making a lot of noise. No, it’s not the number of people that make the country, it’s the variety. It might not work for other countries and that’s fine, but for America to work, there have to be different voices, playing different parts of the same song.

Lately too many of us have been closing our ears to the other instruments that make up the American band. We’re content hearing only our own part, or worse, playing only solos. Then we question why others are thinking the same thing. Oddly, the others are wondering likewise, everybody convinced their part is the main part, that their idea is the right idea. Why won’t everybody think alike? It really isn’t a matter of why everybody won’t think or say or do the same things. It’s because we can’t. We can’t think the same things because we don’t have the same backgrounds to formulate those thoughts. No matter how hard a piccolo tries, it cannot reach the same notes as a tuba.

You can only listen to a tuba solo – or piccolo or sax or marimba – for so long before you get up and walk out on the concert. The strength of the band, the beauty of the music, is not in the instrument. It is in the players who know when to play their notes, trusting that by allowing the other musicians to play their own notes, they will make beautiful music together.

This Independence Day, take a moment to think about how our differences are what makes us unique as a country. Yes, celebrate those differences, but celebrate the whole also. The music sounds best when all the instruments are playing together. Celebrate this Independence Day and enjoy our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of really good harmony.

Happy Birthday America!

Technologically Repressed

Michael 5 Comments

We’ve talked tech before. I’ve even admitted that I’m fine with many of the advancing technologies we have and continue to come up with, but there are a couple things I wish we hadn’t invented. Or at least not gone for in such a big way.

This really all started with a conversation I had with my daughter, a not quite 30 year old who makes her living only because we have tech-evolved as much as we have yet still hangs on to these few things from my past.

PDA devices and apps versus planners/calendars.

Planners are called planners because that’s what they do. They plan. Or help you plan.

This is what started our conversation. When I was discharged from the hospital I was sent on my way with home nursing and physical and occupational therapies. I had gotten off the phone with one of the home care givers and trying to sort out who was coming when. I had everybody’s visits, along with doctors’ appointments and dialysis sessions loaded into my electronic scheduler and that synced with my Amazon Echo to remind me each morning what was happening that day. (I told you I was okay with some new tech.) But it was only after I opened the actual calendar looking page of the calendar wannabe program did I realize that I had all three disciplines coming the same day and a total of 5 commitments over two days. My “assistant” gladly accepted the suggested dates and times knowing there were not overlaps but didn’t warn me of not only adjacent scheduling but of overwhelming (for me) scheduling. My daughter reminded me if I just used a book style planner or at least a page out of a calendar I could have seen at a glance that I was getting in too deep for the middle of the week. I would have sent her to bed without her supper but it is her house and she was cooking.

The point is, there are some things a calendar does better than all the electronic schedulers out there. Hung on a wall with nice big squares for each day, a calendar is still the best guarantee to efficient planning.

GPS versus an atlas or paper maps

No argument that for getting from Point A to Point B celestial guidance is the way to go. But when you want to know just where those points are in this great big world or what’s at Point A1, A2, and so forth, start unfolding that paper.

Anybody who uses GPS for directions for any appreciable time will run into problems. By problems I mean lost. Undocumented construction, flooded roads, accident clean up crews, or over height semis wedged in tunnel entrances or under overpasses turn Little Miss Turn By Turn into a one phrase wonder – recalculating, recalculating, recalculating.

Am I the only one who wonders after making a turn and hearing “travel north for 8 and 1/2 miles” to the next turn what I’m missing in those 8 and 1/2 miles? The on screen “map” clearly displays the traveled road in all its exact scale-ness but nothing around it. No town names, no points of interest, no “world’s largest ball of twine!” a mere hope skip, and jump at the third intersection to the right.

There is no better way to getting un-lost than to pull out an old fashioned map and see what landmarks are nearby or road names or route numbers that look familiar. Those same maps display a bounty of options that go around those unexpected obstacles. Only with maps can you take in the whole picture of the places around you.

Keep that GPS app on your phone. It has its place. This is a big country connected by oodles of 8 and 1/2 mile stretches. Some of them are pretty interesting places but sometimes you have to get off the the highlighted route to find them.

Music downloads versus LPs, CDs, even cassette tapes

I get it. You like a song, you want a song, you buy a song. No muss, no fuss, no waste. And no experimenting with songs from a the B Side. Not to mention all the great stuff on an album that never gets air time…if you can still call where they play “air.”

Beyond the songs that go unheard are the stories you found on the printed material – the album jackets and the CD inserts. If the songs of an album told a story, the liner notes painted the picture. Sometimes with a collage of real pictures. (You remember pictures. They are those things you call “images” but you don’t need a phone to see.) Often the notes even included the lyrics so there was never an excuse for belting out “Welcome to the land of flaming sex!” at a red light.

News sites verses newspapers

Printing material is expensive. Delivering printed material is expensive. Recycling printed material is sometimes more work than I really care to do. Still I’d rather pay for and read a paper held in my hands (on spread across the table) than read an article on line. Why?

I’m not so stuck in the old ways that I’ll say I prefer a real paper because “I like the feel of it in my hands” although that argument might work with books. I prefer the paper because I get more news out of it. Think of this. You get your “paper” on line probably through an morning email that says today’s “paper” is out there along with a handful of headlines with the articles’ first few sentences. So you scan those, see a few that are interesting and check them out. You read that one article led by whomever wrote the morning email and you click your way back to the email to maybe read one or two more in the came fashion. If you see that same headline on hard copy, you notice it, you read it, you follow the article to its “continued on page,” where you notice another headline or maybe a picture that looks interesting or complements the article you just finished. You read that one and the pattern continues. Soon you are turning pages, reading commentaries, arguing with letters to the editor, laughing at the comics, not believing the comeback the home team made in the 11th inning.

People who says “I can get all the news on line” might but never really do. What news they read is often because somebody else decided that was the news they should read.

 

So there you have it. My wishes for things that wouldn’t go away. Not because I’m old and set in my ways even though I am old and can be set in my ways, but because they are just plain better. Because I say so is why. Sheesh. Kids today!

 

What Have You

Michael 4 Comments

I spent a day in the car last week doing some visiting, running some errands, and generally taking on a “what have you” type day. In the course of that day I discovered a few things.

I had the radio on listening to a sports talk program. A question came up regarding how we listen to music. It’s not hockey season so sports talk takes in rather diverse subject matters. Both hosts mentioned the listen to songs stored on their phones or streamed on a service. One admitted he still listens to the radio but only in the car. Both said they haven’t played a CD in years and iPods are basically modern relics. Boy am I behind the times! Almost all my music is on CDs and what isn’t is on an MP3 player.

ReceiptsReceipts continue to be out of control. Just earlier this year I wrote about the nearly 22 inch long receipt I got at the grocery store. Any paper saved by newspapers no longer printing hard copy editions is being used in store receipts. It was reinforced on my “what have you” day when I got home and emptied my bags and pockets and sat two receipts side by side. I present the photographic evidence here. Together, both receipts reflect a total of 7 items purchased. The longer receipt from Walgreens is for 2 each of 2 different items. The shorter Walmart receipt represents 3 individual pieces. I guess if you’re looking to save the environment, go to Walmart.

Because I got hungry on my “what have you” day, I made a quick run through the drive through at Burger King. Since I had just read about it in some magazine I thought I’d try their Veggie King, basically a Whopper made with a veggie burger. Honestly, it wasn’t bad. What merits inclusion of this stop in this post of what have you’s is not the faux burger but the soft drink. You cannot drink a soft drink in a moving vehicle without a straw given the current lids used on soft drink cups. Of course anybody who is anybody is denouncing plastic drinking straws this year so much so that McDonald’s and Starbucks have both announced plans to move to biodegradable straws in some unspecified future. As I sipped my soft drink through the offending tube I wonder if those chains will also be shifting to biodegradable trash bags or if their expensive earth saving sipper will remain undegraded for a few thousand years encased in black plastic.

Can I come up with some random thoughts while doing what have you!

Spare Change

Michael Leave a comment

Saturday evening I was in the car and spun the dial on the radio. Figuratively, that is. What I really did was touch the SCAN button but how pretty of a picture does that paint. The dial landed on the beginning of “Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye.” The original.  steamBy Steam. From 1969. If you don’t know it or any of its copycatters, check it out here.

See, it’s a real song. A whole song. Not just a chorus you hear at baseball games after the pitcher is pulled.

I thought while listening (I can multitask) “God, I hated that song.” And then I went on to think more while listening more (still multitasking more) “Hey, hey, that’s not a bad song.”

I really did dislike it then and I even disliked more (or stronger) Banarama’s 1983 knock-off. But back to the sixties. I disliked Steam’s greatest hit though I shouldn’t have. If you’ve paused reading this post to check out the above noted video you’ll know why. That was me back then. Dressed and groomed pretty much in the form of… well, in the form of whoever they are. Steam wasn’t even a real group but one of those fake front bands to stick a name on a label when a bunch of studio musicians happen across a catchy little ditty some record producer thinks might make a few bucks. And that was me in high school. A fake front. Not quite nerd, not quite popular, not quite athletic, not quite stylish in my long collared, puffed sleeved, vested, flaired, and not quite straggly look. Somehow, like Na Na Etc Etc, I endured well into the 21st century.

Probably it was because of the changes that we made and/or were subjected to that we endured as well as we did. Na Na shifted from catchy little ditty requiring greedy producer to be popular to catchy little hook requiring bored baseball park organist to be popular. I’m now quite stylish.

The moral of the story is be true to what you are now, but be ready to change. Just in case.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

(Video by kenwaman via YouTube)

Can You Heat It Now?

Michael Leave a comment

I was working on a household budget for this year over the weekend (so I’m a little late – things happen), when I had to make the decision of whether to renew the car’s satellite radio subscription. That got me thinking about all the iterations of mobile music over the years.

The first car radio I remember was in my father’s 57 Chevy. Of course that was in ’61 long before it would become a classic but that’s a story for another post. That radio was a simple AM job that got music, news, and sports from a handful stations that were within 20 or so miles of the read mounted, stainless steel antenna. It came as a package option that included the radio, an under-dash heater, and cigarette lighter. Talk about luxury!

Sometime in the mid-60s I remember friends’ parents with cars that had AM-FM radios. Now that was something. None of us knew exactly what FM was although a few years later in high school physics they talked about the different types of sound waves and that had something to do with the difference between AM and FM but by then we were too concerned with the music coming from the radio than how it worked. But back in the 60s all we knew about FM radio was that was where the classical music stations lived and that one station that played what they called “album tracks” that our parents wouldn’t let us listen too.

radioAnd that was it for car radio until those high school years. Then the changes came fast and furious. Nobody’s factory model was good enough. The aftermarket offerings included AM, AM-FM, 8-Track, and that newest alternative, the cassette player. Cassettes were cool. They let you listen to “your music” instead of relying on the DJ choices on the radio, they didn’t skip when you couldn’t dodge the potholes fast enough like the 8-track players, and the really good ones include auto-reverse so you could listen to the same album over and over without even having to pull the cassette out and flip it over.

Fast forward (no pun intended but now that I think about it not a bad segue) through college and young adulthood when nothing much new happened other than the ubiquity of CD players in addition to or in place of the cassette to the 1990s and the advent of MP3 players, Bluetooth, and satellite radio. Suddenly deciding on a source of music while riding down the road brought back memories of debating the merits of cassette versus 8 track.

After a few years you didn’t have to make a choice which one to get as much as which one to use since every car seemed to offer every option. Even in my modest family sedan I can choose between AM, FM and satellite radio, an auxiliary jack into which I can plug an MP3 player (or a portable cassette or even 8-track player if I could find one, or the other, or both), or anything that can transmit Bluetooth such as my phone that could play music from memory or stream music from an outside source. With all that decision making to do it’s no wonder only 85% of people decide to buckle up before pulling out.

Now that I’ve put this all down in writing I can see I have plenty of options even if I don’t opt to renew the satellite subscription. That saves me a couple hundred dollars for this year that I can use on 5 or 6 weeks of cable. Hmm, I think it might be decision time again.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Sing Sing Sing Along

Michael Leave a comment

I was sorting through some old CDs and ran across an interesting one. A collection of TV Theme songs from the 50s, 60s, and 70s. I figured it stopped there because there just weren’t that many later shows that had their own themes. That’s changing. And I think that’s for the better.

There are many shows from the early days of TV that had theme songs recognizable still today – and by many who never saw the show associated with the music. Put ten people in a room and play them the theme from I Love Lucy or The Andy Griffith Show and at least 9 will be humming along. Make it The Beverly Hillbillies or Gilligan’s Island and those same nine will be singing along and probably joined by the tenth. Don’t forget the cop shows and other dramas. You might not be able to name the show but you know when you are hearing the themes from The Rockford Files, Hill Street Blues, or Rawhide (yes, the song that kept the Blues Brothers from death by flying bottles in the cowboy bar started as a TV show theme song).

Then it became fashionable to exclude the theme. Maybe composers wanted too much for a custom song that possibly may be forever be associated with a flop as well as it could be hit. Perhaps it wasn’t worth the time and money to pay for a song “off the shelf.”  More likely, it was 30 seconds that could be sold for advertising rather than use as a background to run opening credits against.

Still shows looked for some identity and found it in one or two chords. Check out the “themes” for Lost, Two Broke Girls, or the entire Law and Order franchise. Fortunately somebody saw the folly in this. Television is supposed to be entertaining and that pleasure is enhanced by a catchy tune. (I’m sure somebody somewhere sometime did research on that. If not, feel free to attribute it to me if you’re ever in a spot that needs justification for pleasure enhancement.) We’re now getting to hear some real music with our TV again. Shows like Orange is the New Black, Mike and Molly, and Modern Family have real songs again even if some are borrowed from other genre.

And once again when we’re trying to come up with contemporary trivia to occupy non-drinking time at the bar we have TV themes returning to the mix. We may have to update our references though. The most popular theme song nobody knows by its real name will soon, if not already, no longer be “Suicide is Painless” but “History is Everything.” Extra points if you can sing all three verses and the bridge.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

The Music in my Mind

Michael Leave a comment

I can’t wait for spring. I really need a new diversion. This winter I’ve spent a lot of time in front of the keyboard. Not this one typing out these missives. The musical one. It’s a diversion that I’ve spent more time with than I have in years. But then, I have more time now than I’ve had in years. I have to do something with it.

I fiddled with the piano for the first time about 55 years ago. You’d think with all that time I’d be pretty good at it. Honestly I’m just ok. I know how to play the notes but that’s not the same as how to make the music. It must have been about 54 years ago that I said to myself, “Self,” I said, “you should take up the tuba where you only have to play one note at a time to be good.” Even back then I recognized the limitation of my short and uncoordinated fingers.

Instead of seeking out a used tuba to practice on (which in hindsight was a good thing I didn’t since most of the helicon style tuba are larger than me) I gravitated to musical styles that didn’t require 14 notes played to be played in unison.

Over the years I got very good at plinking out one or two notes with my right hand and running scales with my left, all the while filling in three or four other instruments’ parts in my mind. And as long as I was alone I was pretty darn good. So good that all I needed was the melody to a song and some time to noodle around until I was able to figure out what chords went with it. Then I could amuse myself for hours rarely ever striking more than 2 or 3 keys at once.

But then I came across that song in my head that try as I might I couldn’t find the right tones on my own. So I broke down and bought sheet music for it. And there they were. The notes that I was looking for. Lots and lots of notes. More of them on ledger lines than on the staff proper. Written in the key of A Flat. In 6/8 time. Allegretto. And that’s just how it sounded in my mind.

It was just that my body wanted to play it in the Key of C in common time and a bit more ritardando. Just like me. <Sigh> I can’t wait for spring.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Life Needs a Soundtrack

Michael Leave a comment

Do you know a problem with real reality? There are no clues to what’s coming next. Life needs a soundtrack.

Watch any movie or television show, even the so-called “reality” shows, and you see that they all have musical accompaniment. It’s quite clear when someone or something is to be happy, sad, humorous, suspenseful, romantic, mysterious, thrilling, or chilling. Just about the only time the background is silent is when the director intends for extreme drama. Even commercials have background music. Everything from auto insurance to male erectile dysfunction therapy has an associated tune. Why can’t we.

It sounded like a good idea when it popped into my head. Heaven knows there’s enough music up there. I’m always mentally humming a tune, a jingle, a theme. How hard would it be for that to be amplified and spill out around me so I know for sure what mood I’m in – not to mention everyone else who might be in the area?

It’s hard enough to get through a day without being misunderstood. Think of all the relationships that could be saved if there was a full orchestra ready to turn despair to hope, hope to thought, and thought to action. Imagine the peace people could experience if daily routines were spiced up with a bluesy southern anthem or smoothed out by a soft jazz composition. Think of your daily commute to the tune of a driving chorus instead of the tune of blaring horns and mufflers in need of repair.

If you really want to explore this idea, can we consider making life a musical? On second thought, I don’t know if I can handle a sudden eruption of song and dance while standing in line at the deli counter. “You’re the ham that I want. Ooo, ooo, ooo honey,” doesn’t run trippingly off the tongue even if you are looking for that tasty lunchmeat. No, just a soft background perhaps of Dave Matthews Band’s Pig song.

Like I said, it sounded like a good idea when it popped into my head.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

To Thine Own Art Be True

Michael Leave a comment

We recently spent a weekend being charmed and being charming at an absolutely charming spring wedding.  It was one of three wedding events we’re attending over nine days.  When it rains, it pours.

Fortunately, at this one, it did neither.  The sun shone over the outdoors ceremony and continued to the outdoors reception where the music was provided by one of our closest friends and one of the most talented individuals we know.  From ceremony through cocktails and into the dinner he charmed the attendees with his voice and music.  It was a pleasant addition to a delightful celebration.

On one of the other days of that same weekend we strolled the city parks areas in our town’s version of its annual arts festival.  Although it was pleasant, it was not delightful.  Of the almost two hundred artists selling their wares that day, we found a couple we had seen in the past whose works we enjoyed and found a couple new ones who might become favorites.  That puts about 98% of them in the “oh dear” category.  There’s a funny thing about artists, not everything they do is art to everybody.  And we think everybody is winning.

We love the arts and we won’t ever disparage someone from pursuing his or her dream.  Just realize that if that dream is taking vacation pictures on ‘round the world, tax deductible trips, we snap our own memories.  Or if the dream is a single vision in 42 sizes, few will want a collection.  It was unfortunate that these were some of the thoughts we had that day.

We missed a couple of our favorite artists.  Either they chose not to attend or were booked on some other days.  One is a charming lady who takes “local artist” quite seriously.  Everything she paints is local.  Cityscape, landscape, or still-life will be something you recognize but would never have thought of painting.  There is detail in her oil on canvas that those with a digital camera can’t find or don’t know where to look.   When one looks closely at her scenes it doesn’t take long to discover that almost every scene has her husband watching from inside.  Whether she is selling an original or one of her smallest prints, she’ll offer to include a personal inscription.

Another of our favorites not seen that day is on a mission to see that everybody who wants one of his pieces can have one of his pieces.  More than once we’ve heard him say to someone without cash in pocket, “Give me $10 and take it home.  Here’s an envelope, mail me a check.”  To those who can’t afford his work he says, “Pay me what you can every month, when it’s paid, it’s yours.”  He of We once asked if he ever regretted that.  “Never,” he said.  “Not even the one time someone gave me a ten, took my painting, and hooked me for the rest.”

And what does all this have to do with a weekend wedding.  It reminded us that Brother of She has that very troubadour booked for a party soon and is still waiting on his contract.  “You know me.  This is the part I like.  Being with the people.  I get around to the business part eventually but if I have you on my calendar, I’ll show up.  My word is my contract.”

That’s what we were thinking while we were walking the artists’ market and hearing the sound of nobody buying anything.  All the pieces were clearly marked.  All the catalogs and business cards were stacked neatly in the front corners.  But there wasn’t the passion that used to drive the artist who would stretch a canvas or test a microphone connection knowing that there might not be anything there now, but there will be soon.  Something very wonderful, very soon.

You have our word on it.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?