Here comes Johnny singing oldies, goldies…
My husband revels in the fact that I know every word to every song that comes on the local classic rock stations (and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little proud myself). He looks over with a grin and says, “Dude, who the fuck is this anyway?” Most of the time, it’s the usual suspects, Journey, Boston or our ol’ pal Johnny Cougar, but every now and again, it’s something new to him, something to be discovered.
Recently, I’ve got him hooked on CCR. Fogerty’s grainy voice and anti-war anthems hit him right to his core. I mean, come on, it’s catchy as shit.
But there’s another camp out there. Folks that don’t hold appreciation for the context of music.
Sure we could analyze REO Speedwagon to death or shit all over the entire catalog of Kansas for that matter. But the bottom line is that I’m not moved to bellow out these tunes due to their artistic integrity. I don’t know the history or the “where are they now” for the lead singer of .38 special, but still, this shit makes me smile.
When we’re picking a station or a CD, I think that less needs to be considered in the ways of critique and more in the ways of emotion. Think a lil more with your heart and you too can find yourself in traffic, drumming on the dash and screaming,
“Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man….though my mind could think I still was a mad man………..I hear the voices when I’m dreeeeeeeeeaming…….I can hear them saaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy!”
-H
3 years ago • 0 notes