Riffing on music...again

I want to carry on with the music vibe that Pierre and Peter have so eloquently riffed on.  In his post last week, Peter asked if music is a part of your life and then asked everyone to comment on those moments that stick out for you: concerts, first album, etc.  I added my two pennies about some bands I've seen and some 8-tracks I once owned, but I really did myself a disservice by not going back far enough.  Today, Pierre writes about "Free to Be You and Me," but I have to be honest, I don't remember it.  I'm not saying I didn't watch it, I quite possibly did.  I just don't have a recollection of it.  I also don't recall coming across the soundtrack on vinyl in my parents' collection of LPs.  Again, can't say for certain it isn't there, but when I remember artists like Freddie Fender or albums like Rod Stewart's Smiler or a Sesame Street collection, I think it's safe to assume that it just isn't there.  After reading Pierre's post, part of me feels a little left out - sort of like not being in on the joke or there not being a seat at the cool kids' table.  But, I guess that's what makes us individuals, isn't it?  I'm "Free to Be Me" - ugh, I'm sorry - that was bad.

Of course, I do have plenty of memories of children's music.  Sesame Street, The Electric Company and Zoom come to mind immediately and essentially comprise the soundtrack of my pre-school years.  But, in an age when cars didn't come with tape players, digital tuning or even stereo, you relied on what was on your radio with the one speaker in the dash - there was no popping in the latest from Mr. Rogers or Captain Kangaroo.  For me, it was all AM Gold.  Three Dog Night, Gilbert O'Sullivan, Johnny Nash, Jim Croce and Tommy James are who I remember hearing while I sat in the backseat of a 1969 Toyota Corolla or, later, a 1973 Toyota Celica.  Or, if it was Saturday night (which is alright for fightin'), it would be Jim Sands' Golden Oldies Show on WHDH AM-850 and I would hear all the platters that matter(ed).  Some of my favorite memories though, are riding with my father on a Saturday morning for haircuts in South Boston listening to WROL and the Irish Hit Parade.  Around the house, my mother would stack 10 LPs on the spindle of the stereo console (the one that looked like a piece of furniture) and the house would be filled with the sounds of Sam Cooke, Otis Redding, Charlie Rich and, years later, ABBA and Blondie among many others.

I hope that I will be able to fill Little Dubya with the same kind of love for music that I have and he will enjoy a broad spectrum of styles.  I want him to be the cool kid - the one the other kids turn to to provide the great mix tapes CDs, DVDs or whatever it's gonna be by then.  Maybe he'll make vinyl cool again.