Six songs that you wouldn’t have thought I would ever have baked into my soul
Dennis Miller is No Longer My Hero/I know the sounds of New York
Today I want to tell you a little something about music. I was at a wonderful event last week where I had an opportunity to speak with some high school film students at a film camp. One of them said something about a song that was playing in the lunchroom, “That’s not my song, but it brings up some feels from middle school.” I was surprised by this. Of course I kept it cool. You know me. I didn’t jump up and yell, “How is it possible in 2024 that you would ever hear a song that you didn’t select yourself from one of your devices most likely your phone and don’t get me started on how all music is played on your phone because that is something I never thought would happen but where was I oh yeah how can you hear a song you didn’t choose to hear because no one even listens to the radio anymore in their car hell most of you don’t even want a car how is that even a thing because a car meant freedom to me on so many levels including but not limited to being able to listen to music I picked by popping a cassette into my car stereo which is not a phone!” I just thought all that, nodded and said, “I’ll see you all in room 500.”
I think in the world of curation we do get to make the soundtrack of our lives. And it can be crafted to who we are and how we see ourselves. But we do miss out on some found objects or earworms that just came into our lives and connected to us without being chosen. Are there songs that have stayed with me that aren’t ‘my songs’? It was a really great gift from that studentI got, and so here’s what I came up with. Six Songs. Not My Music. But they bring up a lot of ‘feels.’
Seals & Crofts, “Summer Breeze.” This song came out when I was six or seven. We had just moved to Orange County, California and it felt like a lot of weekends my parents just sort of drove around exploring the new world we were living in. And this song was on the radio a lot. I have a memory of going to a place called Pup ‘N Taco and getting a soft serve ice cream cone that I had to eat before we got back into the car. That made me mad. Then I had kids and got mad at them when they spilled stuff in my car. Damn kids.
Dream Academy, “Life in a Northern Town.” I decided I was going to quit college and move to Chicago and become a famous sketch comic and eventually do Weekend Update like my hero, Dennis Miller. My friend Mike and I found someone who needed their brand new 1989 Lincoln Continental driven to Chicago, so we packed up and left. “Life in a Northern Town” was a pop hit on the radio at the time, and the music and lyrics felt like the winter drive across the country from Arizona that we were having. I think we left the radio on and didn’t play tapes in the car because it wasn’t our car, and we were afraid to break anything in it. We did take a detour when we realized we had passed Elvis Presley’s Graceland and figured it was worth the extra miles to go see the racquetball court bathroom he died in.
Tim McGraw, “Humble & Kind.” Here’s a good one. When I drove my oldest to college for his freshman year, this was a hit on country radio. The great challenge for me when it played was wanting to tell him, “This. Right here. All these lyrics. Be that,” without actually telling him. Through mental telepathy. And also, not bursting into tears because I was losing my kid to a school across the country. There was a moment where we were in Oklahoma where he said, “I think you and I are good because we can just be together, without saying much, for miles and miles. A lot of people think silence means trouble, huh?” I’ve always remembered that. And I’ve always thought that is a real good sign of being a real good friend.
Paul Simon, “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes,” Before Chicago, I went to New York City for a summer independent study Humanities class. And I had a Sony Walkman. Still playing cassettes. But a huge step forward in picking music for myself. But in a pre-internet age, where information was hard fought and hard won, mistakes would get made. Someone told me Simon & Garfunkel was classic “New York” music. So, I went to Zip’s Records and Tapes on Broadway in Tucson and bought the only cassette I could find there, Paul Simon’s Graceland. An album he made with a bunch of musicians from South Africa. This was the song I was listening to when the plane landed at JFK. I thought I had the sounds of New York nailed down for sure.
Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Under the Bridge.” I made it to Chicago on my journey of becoming a famous sketch comic and doing Weekend Update on SNL. I was in The Second City Touring Company. That meant, back then, that we toured the country doing a“Best of,” show. We didn’t get to do any original material of our own on the road. Sometimes we’d sneak in a quick blackout sketch that we wrote. Or we’d do a scene from a show that had a lot of improvised beats in the middle, so we’d get to do more of the kinds of things we wanted to. I believe I was a pretty funny person on stage. Pretty quick. Witty. And I was also a terrible physical actor. I preferred scenes where people stood or sat, and we’d say funny things to each other. But I was also always up for a challenge to make myself better. I stumbled across an old video tape of a Second City show from Toronto where an actor did a fully silent scene, of him taking a shower in the morning and getting ready for the day. It was set to music, but I didn’t like the song. I don’t even remember the song, frankly. Later that same day after I viewed that scene, I walked past a newsstand, and this was the cover of Rolling Stone:
I had heard “Under the Bridge,” on the radio. And just look at the pose there. The Chili Peppers were looking like they were dressed to take a shower, right? So that became the song I used to score the silent scene and it was well enough received that eventually it became the first act closer for our touring show.
Coldplay, “Clocks.” The summer of my second child being born. Again, not ‘my music,’ right? I had just had the first show I had created cancelled; I had my family and it was us against the world. And this song was the song of summer for me. Going to the beach, being in the sunshine and feeling like life was opening up for me, even in the face of being cancelled. Because, as I’ve written elsewhere on this newsletter, “In order to be cancelled, you first have to have a show that’s on.”
Now, what are your songs that aren’t your music but give you feels? Drop one into the comments, por favor. I’d love to hear them.
Me? Inspired by this, I’m going to spend some time listening the radio, not my playlists. Or telling my Lyft driver to turn up the music they turn down when I get into their car. See what else is out there that I don’t know about.
Quick update on writing. This week nothing substantial happened, but I am looking at my calendar and some pitches are being set for some new shows. Feels like maybe things are starting to open up. Who knows? But I’ll take it as a move forward and as positivity in the face of an uncertain future for all of us who do this for a living. Be good to each other. And if you enjoy these weeklies, tell one person. Word of mouth is the best way to grow things.
Wasted Day and Wasted Nights -- Freddy Fender
Blue Bayou -- Linda, of course
If You Leave -- OMD
Blister in the Sun -- Violent Femmes
Whole of the Moon -- Waterboys
Wildflowers -- Tom Petty
(It's like a slideshow in my head...)
"Everything You Want," Vertical Horizon. When I think of 1999, I think of this treacly song because my girlfriend at the time said this is what she thought of me. I didn't get it...and then she broke up with me soon after. Thank God I don't think of 1999 that much!