2. Good Grief

Linus & Lucy

Wynton Marsalis & Ellis Marsalis

            Everyone from my generation can appreciate this song and the sense of comfort it conjures up.  It comes from a time when watching cartoons during a weekday evening was rare and special, and it wasn’t the holiday season until Snoopy and Charlie Brown said so.  A time when we were all innocent, and adults were incomprehensible.  The opening bassline of this song never fails to bring forth memories of kids with big heads and hard luck and the evenings I spent with them.

            The Great Pumpkin was usually the first of the Peanuts specials to air, signaling Halloween.  Its airing coincided with the time that Halloween decorations started to go up, and teachers and doctors would have bowls of candy out on their desks.  Then, Halloween night would come, and I would don a plastic smock/mask set made by the good folks at Ben Cooper, almost invariably purchased at Toys R Us.  I dressed as He-Man,  Luke Skywalker, Spider-Man, and while the costume might change, the experience of wearing it didn’t.  I was always a little lightheaded from the PVC fumes, and my upper lip was always sweaty from the moisture of my breath as I tried to breathe through the tiny hole in the mask.  And always, my ears would be chafed from he rubber band and staples holding the mask on.  It was an uncomfortable experience, made worthwhile by the candy and the opportunity to use that chemical and technological marvel, the glow stick.  These were little plastic tubes with smaller glass tubes inside, and when the tube was bent to break the inner glass tube, a chemical reaction occurred allowing the stick to glow for up to an hour or so.  So cool, and so much fun for a 10 year old—truly, I lived in an age of marvels!

            The next Peanuts special was the Christmas one.  Possibly one of the most emotionally stirring cartoons, even today.  Its airing heralded an onslaught of Christmas specials, including large blocks of Saturday morning cartoons and the beloved Rankin Bass stop-motion specials.  Christmas was always my favorite as a kid.  From the treats and happiness, fun songs to be sung at school, and copious use of construction paper, Elmer’s glue, cotton balls and glitter, the season was full of fun things for the senses.  Growing up on the western side of Michigan, the lake could always be counted on to provide tons of snow for the season, and usually a snow day or two.

            I really like this version of the song, by Wynton Marsalis and Ellis Marsalis.  One of the things it does illustrate for me is how mercurial music is.  Being technically proficient does  not make you a great musician.  In fact, I think this is where Wynton Marsalis fails in this song.  While his trumpet solo (at 0:58 into the song) is perfectly serviceable and technically sound, it’s sort of…cold.  It follows the scales, and is on-key, but it really doesn’t stir me.  Contrast this with his brother Delfeayo’s trombone solo (at 1:45), which starts off laconic, not worried about keeping up with the rest of the band.  It’s full of life, and very playful, much more in keeping with the spirit of the piece.  It brings a smile to my face, it’s so effortless and breezy, and therein lies one of the mysteries of music…as proficient as someone can become in the language, theory, and performance, some of the best music can be made by people like B.B. King, who never studied those rules and focused purely on the emotion of music.  A complex piece by Wynton may fail to move me, but three notes from B.B. King can break my heart.

1. Introduction

Something people notice about me, sometimes even the first time we meet, is that I have a deep fascination with music.  I am hardly alone in this, music geeks are a dime a dozen.  But most I’ve come across are gleefully elitist.  Snobs in a game where only they are keeping score.  These people funnel their social ineptitude into a seething contempt for people who do not agree with their muisical taste.  Me, I’m content to let people like what they like—expecting someone to have the same musical taste as you is just as ridiculous as expecting someone to have the same favorite color as you.  I’m passionate about music and appreciate the cutting edge, but I also have a soft spot for Spin Doctors, and may occasionally hum Hootie and the Blowfish while driving alone.

Okay, okay, okay, so maybe I’m lying.  MAYBE I’ve judged one or two people based on what music they like.  And MAYBE I’ve given a friend or two a hard time about their taste (Maroon 5, Adam?  Really?!?!).  But still, I just admitted to liking the Spin Doctors and Hootie and the Blowfish.  I have forfeited the right to mock anyone, ever.

I’m getting off topic.  I was saying that I love music.  I have for as long as I can remember.  Yet one question I’ve wrestled with is why.  Why do I continue to seek new music, and new bands, despite the fact that most of my friends outgrew this long ago?  Why do I feel the need to listen to music during any downtime of the day?  What need does music fulfill in my life?  I’ve thought long and hard about this.  And I think the answer relates to two things:  spirituality and history.

In the past, when people have asked me why I like music, my answers have varied.

“I love going to concerts.”

“I like playing, and admire the skill and talent it takes.”

“It’s just fun.”

But the true answer?  The answer I hesitate to give because it may seem too intense or overblown?

Music makes me believe in God.

What other art form is so universal, and speaks so directly to our emotions?  No person in the world can mistake the response a song is trying to evoke.  Joy is joy, and sadness is sadness, in spite of any difference in culture or religion.  The fact that our sense of hearing can tap directly into emotion amazes me.  No other sense has that power—when was the last time you tasted something that made you sad?  But with a few simple notes someone can be made to feel happy, melancholy or lustful.  Hearing a song which effortlessly speaks to my emotions and highlights this human oneness is a spiritual experience for me.

The other thing I love about music is the memories that it can conjure up.  Science supposes that smell is the sense most closely linked to memory, but I feel that a short musical refrain causes a stronger sense of nostalgia than the smell of baking cookies (or curry, as the case may be).  Television theme songs, pop song choruses, and jazz riffs all have colored my life, and to this day a song can vividly recall an experience I’ve had.

These are the two reasons I write this blog.  First, to catalog some experiences I’ve had, which are linked inextricably in my memory to certain songs.  In some cases the music was present during the experience, in others the music or lyrics of a song call forth an experience I had by evoking a related emotion.  By writing about these, I hope to maybe jar a memory for someone else that the same song may have, or to at least share some good music.  Hopefully this will be entertaining.  Comment away, whether you like something, hate it, or want to offer your own experiences.  And yes, there will be a post about Spin Doctors.