Music, Oh, How I Love it…(sighs)

[amicus]

Okay, the mood tonight came about because I was finally able to recover from an old hard disk about a thousand songs I had collected over the years.

All the 45’s 331/3 albums, eight-tracks, cassettes and CD’s are long gone and I am left with my friendly computer.

It is no secret that the ole Amicus is on the downside of a long and full life and reminisces about many things and fantasizes about many more, it be waiting fer y’all too.

‘Our Song’, ring a bell? Yeah, me too. Songs remind me of big eyed long haired girls with warm smiles and mischief in their eyes.

God how I loved em.

My music library seems to reflect remembrances that the rhythm and the chords and the melody awakens yet again, not perhaps as vivid as time goes by, but still…

There is Diamonds and Rust, with Joan Baez and a girl at the U. of Florida, and a Carpenter’s song about a girl in Portland, and Joni Mitchell and Carly Simon and Carol King;ironed hair in the sixties, some of whom gave names like Moonbeam and Starlight and I never questioned.

And things you wouldn’t know about the ‘cool jazz’ in the 50’s, the dark and somber girls reborn as Goth’s a generation later and I dined on them also.

“Don’t be Cruel” in the front seat of a 51 Ford at a drive-in movie playing “Bambi” with the movie sound turned off and the radio, I had her unhooked before the song ended and then she just sighed…

Girls on the beach in Miami and Honolulu and Malibu and Nassau and the Cote D’Azure in France and Italy and English girls in the rain on a side street in Piccadilly.

Sighs…and my kids wonder why I write smut.

And for each one, almost, a song, a piece of music, when it plays, I am back there and then again with my face in her hair and my hands everywhere.

Bad, bad man I be.

I have loved music…and the ladies…sue me.

I’ll give you Dian, in Florida with “Diamonds and Rust”, and Linda in Waikiki with “Tiny Bubbles”, what do you offer in return?

My Ph.D was sought down a different avenue than the usual scholar, ahem.

DreamBoat Annie, Heart...sighs...I was gonna make a list...nevermind...make your own, I'd like to read it?


Amicus…

 

[scheherazade_79]

I love it when you're loved up, Ami!

But do you know what? All that stuff sounds so much better on vinyl...

 

[amicus]

Hi, Zade...geez, been so long since vinyl, dunno anymore, gotta a pretty good sound system the the disk...lottsa bass, ah likes that...smiles...




ami

 

[impressive]

And for each one, almost, a song, a piece of music, when it plays, I am back there and then again …

Oh, absolutely. My trigger songs are from another time.

The Cars "Let the Good Times Roll" takes me immediately back to a pale green Cadillac parked in the moonlight.

Slow dancing to the Commodores & Kiss' "Beth" in the school gymnasium.

Blue Oyster Cult & Aerosmith (talk about longevity!) while skipping church on a sunny Sunday morning in Keith's bedroom.

Donny Osmond and ... Holly. Gawd, we were so young. My youngest is almost the age we were when we began fooling around. Boggles my mind.

Thanks, ami.

 

[amicus]

Gosh, I remember the Commodores, but not the song and sighs...yes...a generation apart...then, with me...the Brazilian, Spanish thing, couldn't get enough of them, listening to The Lambada, now, :"The Forbidden Dance", damn I love that song...sighs...such a deal...


Thanks...

ami

 

[jomar]

Many of the groups/songs of my youth are also the music of my children. And in turn, I have new musical anchors thanks to their taste - much of which I like, and others I make fun of.

 

[Frank Noir]

Heh, I know I'm probably weird (and it probably has to do with me being a musician), but songs rarely bring back specific memories for me. Not even of important stuff like women.

On the other hand, certain songs are like old friends to me. I've known them all my life, and their company makes me feel good.

 

[WRJames]

We were in Italy on a tour a month or so ago, and the bus driver would put on CD's -- mostly Italian, but also Dean Martin. I had forgotten what an amazing voice that is -- seemingly effortless, but always perfectly in pitch, vibrant, and glowing. We since picked up a CD of Dean Martin Italian love songs (sort of as a joke) and added it to the stack we're playing in the car -- when in comes on, everything just seems very mellow.

The lyrics to these songs are great too -- delicate, but suggestive also. There is no doubt that these lovers are doing more than "just holding hands."