Kim Deal Boz Scaggs: A Very Limited, Very Opinionated Retrospective of the 1970’s (and perhaps the 1980’s and 1990’s) by an Aging Neo-Hipster with a Terrible Memory in an Unknown Amount of Parts with Spotty Updates. (Intro)
The other day I was struggling through a terribly long drive. Due to an unfortunate accident involving iPhone/iTunes syncing errors, my music library was wiped clean. I have this ‘rushing around in the early A.M.’ issue that usually means one of the following:
- I forget my phone and/or wallet
- I forget my nutritious and smartly packed lunch
- I do not check my calendar and realize that today is a suit and tie army day (meaning I have to turn around and do a wardrobe change).
- I realize it is Saturday and I don’t have to be anywhere right away (true story and happens more than you think).
I have not had the pleasure of forgetting my pants, but the threat is always in the back of my mind. Yesterday’s unfortunate mind fart involved reloading my library with new albums that I’ve been promising myself (and others) to review. The night before, I promised myself as I slipped under the sheets that I would replenish the currently empty music library on the cursed thing. You can figure out the meat of the story which ends with a hearty facepalm 30 minutes into my trip. Luckily, I have a back-up plan to protect myself from the zombie like effects of terrestrial radio. That isn’t to say that I listen to music via my satellite receiver; it’s only a relatively minor step up from the FM band. I do, however, enjoy talk radio, news stations, and rarely, the comedy stations. I will say that there are some fine music stations in my package, but, for some reason, I have a limited listening tolerance. My theory is that I am very spoiled when it comes to the musical content blazing through my speakers. When listening to music, I’d rather pause the live playback so I can skip through selections. I become frustrated when the playback catches up to the broadcast. Satellite listeners understand the frustration of such a state.
Coincidentally, I dropped a note to the author of the Building International Coalitions Through Beer and Pavement (pavementandbeerforpeace.wordpress.com/) expressing my appreciation for his work and, in an off the cuff manner, requesting a collaboration. Seemed like a good idea, but implementing such a plan seemed to be a bit daunting. When you are on the road for six hours, your mind starts to drift into a brainstorming mode and my thoughts were shuffling around potential ideas.
I was deep in thought when I hit the wrong buttons on my radio. Instead of going to an alt country channel (the talk radio channels were on replays of earlier broadcasts), I was directed to a 1970’s music channel; Boz Scaggs was crooning through the smooth funk progressions of Lowdown. As a failed bass player, I absolutely love the subtle back beat of the song. It’s a guilty pleasure, but the appreciation has more to do with nostalgia than that of a true deep music knowledge. I was four years old when this song was rising through the popular music charts and was somewhat imprinted in the grey matter. I started drifting into a thought thread that involved the idea that music of our early years impact our tastes as adults. I also realized that while I get all misty eyed at a mid tier pop/funk song from the land of Billy Beer, what do today’s youth view as music of their baby teeth years? Do they view the bands that I obsessively saw live in my salad days as old foggy music that is appreciated through old youtube clips and random satellite scanning? I know from the various emails I have received over the course of S&M that many of my readers were pushing their developing audiophile teeth during the commercialization of alternative music. In their minds, most of today’s music is influenced by the music of their youth. Conversely, I am no different beyond a shift of calendar dates. While I can related a modern release to say Madness , they are more prone to compare it to Korn. To quote a non musical Kurt, “so it goes”.
So, what will this Fiona Appleish titled series entail? I have a few ideas but tipping my hand is akin to blogverse suicide, so stay tuned. Better yet, drop me a line, make a request,or give a suggestion. Writing about childhood influences is a rather flawed operation and your input would help push this series along. Of course, this could be nothing more than a rather idiotic state of sentimentality marking the passing of my personal 40th benchmark and misses any sort of reader investment. “So it goes.”