Music Wayback Challenge Compacted

My Music

I was not challenged to participate in this challenge, nor am I following the rules. I throw it out there as "influenced by."

Rather than making seven posts each featuring a song from my high school or college days I have chosen one song from each of the years I consider the most influential in my musical development. I've started around my twelfth birthday.

Your Feet's Too Big by Fats Waller 1939 (1962)

In 1962 my father made me promise that every time he bought me an LP I would choose one of his records for my collection and listen to it. Thus was I exposed to jazz greats like Louis Belson, Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk and Chico Hamilton, as well as comedy like Beyond the Fringe, The Establishment, and Shelly Berman.

Fats Waller may not be the best musician my father introduced me to, but he is very easy to listen to and enjoy. Your Feet's Too Big is a fun song from a fun album often on my playlist.

Louie Louie by The Kingsmen 1963

I do not know why this song sticks with me, but I remember when and where I heard it first. A friend and I used to skateboard down a quiet, steep hill. At the bottom of that hill the road teed into a not quiet street.

History lesson time. Skateboards were invented in the 50s. They were literally a board, usually plywood, bolted to a roller skate. By 1963 they hadn't improved much. Small, hard wheels attached to a fairly rigid truck made for a very uncontrollable ride at speed. According to Wikipedia "A skateboard can also be used by simply standing on the deck while on a downward slope and allowing gravity to propel the board and rider."

So there we are, barrelling down a hill toward 30 mph traffic on the most unstable vehicle imaginable. Had our parents the slightest inkling how we were passing our time I'm sure we would have been banned from skateboarding for at least the next 30 years. Oh yeah, in case you were wondering, the way we avoided certain, instant death was to basically crash into a ditch. If we were able to make the turn. Otherwise, fall off the board and roll into the ditch. Did I mention the pads? Or the helmet? Pads? Helmet? In 1963?

Anyway, while we were attempting suicide by stupidity we had the radio on. Louie Louie was the best song in the charts at the time.

Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying by Gerry and the Pacemakers 1964

Gerry Marsden headed Gerry and the Pacemakers, a Liverpudlian group with management similarities to fellow Liverpudlians The Beatles. In 1964 they released their two best songs, Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying and Ferry Cross the Mersey, both written by Marsden. I can't choose one over the other, so I picked the one that popped into my head first. I do not remember the circumstances of my introduction to either song.

Draft Dodger Rag by Phil Ochs 1965

A friend with whom I shared my budding politics shared with me her music. A year after the Gulf of Tonkin incident I began to see how wrong the Vietnam war was. Draft Dodger Rag was almost an anthem for us that year and many years after. I still sing it from time to time.

Season of the Witch by Donovan 1966

Some songs are best listened to whilst stoned. Others best when straight. Some songs withstand the test of time better than others. Season of the Witch is a song for most moods and most conditions, and as good today as it was the first time I put down my spliff and leaned forward to hear it better.

Julie Driscoll with Brian Auger and the Trinity covered the song in 1967. Very different from the original, but equally excellent.

White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane 1967

White Rabbit was written, performed and recorded by Grace Slick in 1966 as part of The Great Society. She joined the Airplane and they recorded the song for their second album, Surrealistic Pillow, in 1967.

Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead toured together. Twice, I think. In August 1967 they did a double bill at the O'Keefe Centre for the Performing Arts. Two of my favourite bands on the same stage! I went on two consecutive nights that week.

You've Made Me So Very Happy by Blood, Sweat & Tears 1968

David Clayton-Thomas is a Toronto musician whose career, like many others, was kick-started by Arkansan rocker Ronnie Hawkins as a member of Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks. In 1968 he was the lead singer for Blood, Sweat & Tears, who were working on their second LP, recorded in New York late that year. We had known each other in passing for a couple of years, and he came to me for help. I was a part-time manager of a coffee house which was basically empty until late afternoon, and David needed a place to practice. For a couple of hours a day, David would play guitar accompanied by me on harmonica. I never considered myself very good on that instrument, but I felt honoured that he let me play.

The rules: (Rewritten by me for clarity, but not changed.)

This is a 7 day challenge. (I cheated. You ought to expect that by now.)
On each day:
Choose one song from your high-school/college years.
Write a few words about who made you listen to this song for the first time, what this song means to you (was it a breakup song? you blasted it at 100% on your audio system when you were partying with your friends?) whatever you want.
Write your text while listening to the song. As soon as the song ends, wrap up what you were writing and submit it.
Nominate one person who should do this. (Again, I cheated.)
Tag it with #musicwaybackchallenge and include these rules at the bottom of your post.

Repeat until done.

Trust me, I'm a doctor.
Catweasel

The Borg assimilated my race and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.

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