Musical Memories

Despite not being at all musical or even caring all that much about music (I can hear Rebecca gasp from here) I've been thinking a lot about the memories certain songs or bands evoke. I know I've spoken a bit about how the Beach Boys conjure all sorts of summertime images the minute you hear them, but they're nothing compared to the images and sheer thrill this guy prompts the minute you hear him - well, at least for anyone near my age.
Yes, the Norelco Santa. The very guy. The one who heralded the holiday season by hawking razors. This ad is a bit older than the ones I remember, but the feeling is the same. I don't know what it is about this ad, but when I saw it just a couple of days ago, I was seized by the exact same feeling I had when I was 6 or so and nearly hysterical with anticipation of the big day. That giddy thrill. That absolute certainty that life just couldn't get any better than life during the holiday season. Who couldn't use a bit of that joy, expectation and excitement? So it comes in the form of a razor ridin' Santa. Big deal.

Oh wow. Not that I really think about it, that's fairly pathetic. It's clear that my Empty, Consumer Driven childhood has warped my sense of what is right and good in the world.

. . .

Whatever. Give me a Norelco Ridin' Santa any day of the week.

Not all songs bring such nice memories. Not only is our next selection another trip down memory lane, it's cheesy to boot. It's even a song that my old high school boyfriend used to sing in a soulful voice to me before he headed back to college. Bad enough, but what's worse is that he apparently teared up when he heard it at a concert. Not so terribly odd given the ridiculousness of teenage boys, you say? Ahh, but a crucial bit of info is missing for you. You see he was at the concert with another girl.

Given this song's history and the bad blood associated with it, when it came on the radio tonight on the way home from a dinner with my parents, I immediately switched the channel. Only to be met with howls of protest from my husband. Okay, so I know the guy likes some goofy stuff. Stuff that I wouldn't be caught dead listening to. But this?? This, without a doubt, is a low point in our relationship. I'm not sure we can recover. I'm willing to try, but if more of this type of thing happens again . . .

Without further ado, so you can be as disgusted as I was tonight, here you go:


And finally, in the "This is ABSOLUTELY CRIMINAL" category, I have some truly upsetting news to report. Like most areas of the country, we have a radio station that plays "oldies". Not "classic rock" like Zeppelin, Petty, AC/DC, etc. No. We're talking Chubby Checker, Buddy Holly (who, it has to be admitted, is seriously amazing, no matter the era), and Frankie Valley. That kind of oldies. Well, at least I thought it was that kind of oldies station. Since this isn't music that I listen to often, I haven't heard the station in a while. Twice now, twice I tell you, I've been flipping through stations and heard this guy. Twice. This an oldie?

Surely not? Really?

Yes, I'm aware it's from the early '80s, that still doesn't mean that it belongs on the OLDIES station!

Please. Show Mr. Mellencamp some respect. He has had a heart attack, you know.

Dear God, he does belong on the oldies station. I'm not going to think about what that means about me.

Not tonight anyway.