Being asked to guest-author on a friend’s blog about music was a wonderful feeling. Who Me? And the genre of music being focused on in this blog is priceless. I happen to know that this author has a mission for this blog. To create a community of people who want to share their memories and times from the 60’s & 70’s which is called Cyklopps Rides Again. This is the place: http://geetoni.wordpress.com/ Leave a comment that you want to share and the author will contact you.
The era of the late 1960’s and early 1970’s was truly the beginning of my love for that music that rocks my soul to this day. When asked to do this I could recall a couple dozen associations with music and that era immediately. I happily wrote about a topic that sometimes is even emotional for me because like most people who are really into their music we tend to relate certain events with certain music and songs.
That is what this is about.
THE MAMAS & THE PAPAS
MONDAY, MONDAY. Remember that song?
I can still sing it today. The lyrics. Verbatim.
So good to me, Monday, MornIng.
It was all I hoped it to be.”
By the – The Mamas & Papas
Are you singing or humming the tune now?
Maybe whistling it?
I always wished that I could whistle..
“Monday, Monday.. it was all I’d hoped it to be..
I was and still am quite taken by their music. Some days especially more. And ironically Monday’s are those days. (Today is a Monday)
Growing up with music all my young life it was soon to become the most important thing in my life. My parents were both involved in music in some way, and there were quite often what my parents called “house parties” every Friday & Saturday nights at someone’s home where everyone came for old-fashioned jams. Instruments of choice arrived; whether it be guitars of all kinds, a foot pedal steel guitar, banjo, fiddle, (violin) spoons, along with a few tambourines my parents & their friends kept the music flowing. It was a wonderful part of my childhood that I found solace in.
When my parents split-up as parents sometimes sadly do, and went their separate ways the music went out of my life. I was nine years old and all of a sudden the times that most left me feeling content were gone? The music just stopped. My dad was gone, my mom was a mess and could not even tolerate listening to her vast countrywestern-folk music collection she’d amassed. Family & Friends still would come by but no one ever sat in that circle in our living room again. I was sad, confused and the only way I knew then as a young girl to express my emotions was through music. Any music I knew.
My salvation came through a small box, suitcase looking record player given to me by a sensitive girlfriend;of my older brother’s. . A child’s record player. I remember it was painted pink and white on the outside and inside the lid was a painted ballerina. You may have had one just like it, or you guys out there – your sister might have owned one you remember. Not great sound – but it was music.
Singing along to music by bands and artist’s like: the Mamas & Papas, The Association, The Everly Bros, Chad & Jeremy, Leonard Cohen, Patsy Cline, Bobby Darin, Bobby Rydell, Connie Francis, all of my older brother’s music. His music & mine at the time were my first real secrets. I would get home from school before he would and I would steal away into his room “borrowing” a stack of vinyl albums and running as fast as I could back to my own room, closing and blocking the door. Listening in heaven until just before that same time my brother was due off his bus. Then running and putting each record back carefully in their exact spot. My brother was meticulous with his music. alphabetical order of course.
Soon I was adding music of my own time, My own music: The YardBirds, The Turtles,, The Grassroots, the Rascals, the Youngbloods, Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, the folk sounds of Peter Paul & Mary. Music had a strong hold on me. I wanted to sing music. I wanted to still use my voice. I just needed to sing, whether or not I was any good did not matter to me. It was all about the expression through voice with or without music accompaniment. I heard remarks that I might be good, but it was not what I wanted. I just wanted to sing.
Singing all my life because of those artists. How many others are singing because of the music from the 60′s & 70′s. I may be partial but I think it to be some of the most awe-inspiring music of our time.
I spent most of my younger years singing with a band, a University Women’s Chorale Society, to growing older and managing a band. Music was a large part of my life. Always. My music tastes as I grew older included female vocalist Janis Joplin. I thought her to be the leading woman’s voice in Rock n Roll and lets face it Rock n Roll was the Happening genre. And the empowerment that she gave to me to nurture and project my own voice she’ll never know, Nor of course will she ever know that my youngest daughter is named for her. I also loved the way this women could sing the blues. I may not have liked her lifestyle, and sadly the fact that she is the only woman to be part of club 27 this breaks my heart. I moved from Joplin’s whose voice I tried for a couple of years to master and just could not to female vocalist like Joan Baez, Judy Collins, and Gracie Slick. In the 80′s I found a real affinity to Stevie Nicks.
All the while either performing, jamming, or managing a band.
Stevie Nicks and songs like Landslide & Sara have been music that again rips at my very center. And would also allow me to keep my voice in fairly good shape. In an awesome way I went through a period of the only music I was now playing was an occasional get together with a girlfriend from high school. We’d work for hours upon hours upon hours on songs like Landslide trying to perfect our own harmony. She and I used to jam quite often together thinking that someday…
Someday’s became Monday Mondays again…
My Mondays I turned into a job managing my little brothers band The Bounty Hunters. They did a mix of Country Rock & Country Folk. As well as some of their own originals. My little brother is a songwriter too. It was different being on that side of the micro-phones again. I was back to doing sound checks. I was happy. I collected the bands money, made sure they had everything they needed. It was great.
Good things don’t always last forever. I know that music has alway been a part of me.It very well could again. Though I am not able to perform like I was I will always sing my heart out. And music will forever be part of me. There is just something about the music of my soul and from my era that never ceases to prove true for me. Music has left me, and it’s come back. And it’s left again.
Yet I know this to be true:
That’s the thing about Monday’s. ”There’s just no guarantee”, and like the songs says too:
“Monday Monday, can’t trust that day, Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be Oh Monday Monday, how could you leave and not take me?”
And the other thing I know to be true:
I trust that music will be back in my life soon. In some way. And maybe it will be on a Monday too.