yeah, I was one of those kids... pt. 2

click here for pt. 1

Anyway, my love affair with music through the medium of vinyl just intensified with age. By the time I was 12 I owned the original box set of Jesus Christ Superstar. (Look, this was a pretty big deal... at least I thought so when I was 12.) Now you have to understand that the edgiest musical I had heard up till this point was West Side Story... so this was pretty damn radical... WTF - a rock opera? Yeah, I totally devoured it. Played it over and over again. I have on occasion boasted that I can do the entire thing all by my lonesome ... orchestrations and all... and proved it at least twice. Of course, this was when I had a bed with a roll-away underneath... that was my stage. (Sidebar: I did see the original London stage production when I was 15... yet another blow away moment in my life.)

So, my teen years were the "record exchange" years. Friends like Kien, Vert and I exchanged albums. Yeah, a lot of them were pirated albums. But within a very short while we graduated from top forty bubblegum like Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep (swear it's a real song... just click the link!) to the "heavier stuff"... you know, what back then was referred to as "underground music". Stuff like Deep Purple . Coincidentally Ian Gillan sang the Jesus part in JCS so this was especially potent heady stuff for me personally. BTW... I like Machine Head (Gawd, every guitarist I knew would play the riff from Smoke On The Water)... but In Rock has always been my favorite. Later it was Black Sabbath, Yes, King Crimson and Led Zep. We would sit around listening to the riffs... oohing and ahhing over the solos. Which is when we decided to form a rock group called KISMANTAB... we got as far as the album cover design, I think.

The one funny thing I distinctly remember about buying records back then was walking out of the store and making sure to keep it out of direct sunlight so it wouldn't warp by the time you got it home. Plus the album designs got fancier and fancier that one was always tempted to buy something just because the cover and the fold-outs looked so damn cool.

Even when I moved here in 1980... one of the first things I bought was a stereo system and obsessively was on the look out for record sales. I do have to say that my taste in music was always and still is very eclectic. Yeah burned through the natural (and limiting) music chauvinism of my teen years pretty quickly actually. Now, if it sounds good to me... I like it.

So, I have to thank the record player for this. Especially the early years of playing every record in the house. I'm not as obsessed about owning cd's or mp3's these days but if something strikes my fancy... I just may plonk down the 99 cents for the download.

EDIT: So I've had pizza for lunch... completed it with an ice-cream drumstick (yeah, I got mum one too... she is happier than a clam now.) While rereading this post I suddenly had the urge to hear this song. lol... beats me why... but here it is.



Anyway, I am taking the rest of the afternoon off and indulge in some DVD watching... cut cold watermelon by my side and an iced cold drink. Cheers to lazy Sunday afternoons!

yeah, I was one of those kids...

... who wore out the grooves on the record with repeated playing. Some of you are blinking blankly after reading that. Oh forgive me... remember those black disks of vinyl that you played on something called a phonograph? Yes, those curiosities from... what? No, it's just a nasty rumor that Nero was playing one while Rome burned... or that it was popular during the black plague.

Anyway, as a child I recall the first EP I wore out had "The Teddy Bear's Picnic" song on it. I would listen to it over and over again and stomp around like a bear... or at least simulate what I thought at the time a bear looked like stomping around. I recall in my 20's I actually loved the song even more because I thought it had a cool creepy element to it... then again everything seemed to have a creepy element to it in my 20's.

The only LP's I owned between the ages of 5 and 8... owned only because my parents bought them for me... were soundtracks from musicals and this Louis Armstrong album. Oh yeah... I would absolutely kill em at family functions with my Statchmo impressions... personally I thought I was at my peak doing that at about 7.

The musical soundtracks I played the most were My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins. OK... I'll cop to the fact that I had a huge crush on Julie Andrews... more so in the Sound of Music which I saw on the big screen 7 times. (Yeah, I still think the gazebo scene during "Something Good" is kinda erotic.) I knew every song on those albums inside out. I was known to break out into song at the drop of a hat... I still sort of do that but I do chose my moments now for maximum impact. Usually at the most inappropriate times. Though at the time those were my favorites, I had this insatiable need for music and played every record in the house... soaking in anything from Mantovani to Acker Bilk's Stranger on the Shore.

Dropping a needle on a record on a lazy afternoon and getting sucked into the music emitted by the speakers... ah, that was the bliss of a simpler time. Even the pops and crackles from a scratched record was magical.

EDIT: This post seems to have connected with a lot of you. Thanks for sharing your own experiences in the comments... I guess a lot of us have fond phonograph memories. I was thinking of continuing with a part 2 and 3 anyway. Watch out for it on the next Saturday Stories this coming week.

Cheers!

click here for pt. 2

and in the end...

... the love you take, is equal to the love you make. - the Beatles.

It's lines like that that I really want to believe in. I remember first hearing that album (Abby Road) when I was 12 and recall how the simple profundity of it hit me sideways. "Of course it's true! It must be... it's so simple it just has to be."

I was also at the age when I believed (along with several hundred people) that a reddish hued little being (not unlike a leprechaun) had appeared under a tree just by the fence of a school in my old neighborhood in Malaysia. Story had it that a man in his 50's had saved this being from a vicious dog who had cornered it up against the tree. After chasing the dog away the man felt a weight in the pocket of his pants. He slipped his hand in and pulled out a thousand dollars in cash. The being smiled, thanked him for his kindness and disappeared. Then, there was a woman who had offered a cup of water to it was rewarded with gold jewelry. A little local boy with a harelip who had befriended the being was instantly cured. News of this phenomenon soon spread like wildfire in my old neighborhood that there was a "supernatural little man" who was granting wishes 3 blocks away.

When I got there by 10 that morning of the first day a sizable crowd had already gathered. Everyone was focused on a reddish brown stone about 5 inches in diameter. Rumor had it this foot and a half tall being (description varied by no more than 6 inches from several "witnesses") had shape shifted into this jagged object and would choose to show itself and grant wishes when it was good and ready to do so.

By 2 in the afternoon someone had fashioned a little hut out of planks and placed it over the stone to shelter it from the hot equatorial sun. At 4 PM just as I was leaving to go home an ice cream cart was doing a brisk business from gawkers and onlookers now numbering about 200.

The next morning the story circulated that 25 or so of the faithful who had kept vigil overnight were each rewarded with a hundred dollars a piece by the being. A story also floated around that the man who had built the little hut went home to be reunited with his repentant wife who had run off 2 months earlier. By the time I got there the throng easily numbered several hundred. Offerings of food and burning sticks of incense now sat in front of the little hut. The hushed reverence present the day before was now replaced by a wild jibber jabbering of fantastic stories of wishes granted among the crowd.

The demographic cut across the board. All stratas of society, races and religions were equally represented. There were even a couple of chauffeur driven society types present. Everyone milled and chatted about this amazing phenomenon after paying respects to the red stone. Suddenly, there was an audible swoon from a section of the crowd. 5 women in tears were claiming that they could see the little man. The air became electric with similar claims. "Yes, there he is!" "He smiled at me!"

Within half an hour the police arrived and set up a perimeter to hold the crowd back. I left to go home for lunch. By the time I returned I couldn't get within 200 yards of the place. Nevertheless, I stayed until six that evening just soaking in the intoxicating buzz.

For two weeks the narrow dirt road just outside the fence was festooned with a multitude all focused on a reddish brown stone. The numbers that turned up proved to be such a distraction that the school closed for 3 days. But as per usual, patience for the spectacular to occur was lost and interest waned. Then one day the reddish brown stone was no more and everything was back to how it was before. Theories of what the being was and where it came from were bandied about for months in the local coffeeshops.

I never saw the little man but for those first couple of days I experienced something quite unusual... people were genuinely nice to each other. Any tensions between class, religion and race ceased to exist... replaced by a mutual respect through the sharing of stories. I distinctly remember being given a free Popsicle "on the house" by the ice cream man to provide relief from the sweltering afternoon sun. I found out later that his entire stock for the day had been bought by one of the chauffeur driven types and that anyone approaching him to buy was to be given one for free.

All this goodwill inevitably gave way to something more selfish by day 3. It was evident that curiosity of the fantastical was now being replaced by fortune seeking. The free ice cream stopped and various vendors were now upping the prices of their wares. People began pushing to get to the front of the crowd. Soon, the tension in the air became so thick I decided not to return... plus the presence of the cops just squeezed all the fun out of it. Coincidentally around the same time the being stopped appearing and granting wishes. At least any new stories stopped. Now stories of the phenomenon shifted to fights and arguments over who had the right to lay claim to the stone.

But for me during those first couple of days, that line from that Beatle song came alive. All the original stories of wishes granted had a common theme. Each one was always tied to a favor or kindness done without being solicited. Not one of the stories had any of the recipients being granted an outrages fortune. The "gifts" all seemed to provide a simple and modest measure of comfort. But even more than that, for a sliver of time, there existed the possible vision of genuine connection between humanity. Perhaps that is why the little man stopped granting wishes... people forgot to make and began coming just to take.

I don't know if that line in the Beatle song is truth... but it certainly couldn't hurt to hold on to the simple ideal embodied within.