life, the universe, and everything

All By Myself

 

Dream Lover part 6011

That's "sixty-eleven," by the way. 

I will be catching up to 1992 in the birthday countdown tomorrow. Haven't felt well these past few days, and also I am stuck using the wee PC laptop in the evenings, which is limiting and frustrating. Always appreciative to have it, never thrilled by its sheer inelegance and awkward text formatting. 

So. Bobby Darin. If you've read my blog since 2003, and who hasn't? you know he's one of my favorite, or I should rather say, most cherished topics. Today is the anniversary of his birth, precisely four months after my mother's birth, and were it not for a quirk of fate, it's likely they'd both be alive today, in the December of their years, at 76. Instead, he died at age 37, and she at age 53.  

Bobby Darin is the reason for so much of what I appreciate musically and sensually. That can't be overstated. Even though he was always on the radio and somewhat in the consciousness of anyone who enjoyed 50s and 60s music, I "discovered" him in high school in the early 80s, when I heard "Mack the Knife" on some TV program and fell rapturously in love with it. But that song isn't the thing about the thing. It was the flipside, "Beyond the Sea," which did it for me. Mom made me listen to it. I don't know what the original flipside was, but with oldies, they'd just stick another hit on so you got to enjoy two old things you knew on one record. And it blew me away. No, it grabbed me and pulled me in.

So during an era when I was enjoying the Cars, the Go-Gos, Cameo, The Gap Band, and any New Wave thing I could find on broadcast TV, I fell in love with Bobby Darin, and, by extension, a whole world I'd barely paid any attention to while growing up. All that jazz was background noise, and then suddenly it was just what I needed. 

He was short, arrogant, and wore a hairpiece. My vague memories of him from childhood were the same I had of the other singers of his ilk; terrible hair, terrible suits, a terrible need to fit in where they no longer belonged. But I've outlived him now by nearly a decade, and believe me, I get it, the whole thing. 

Because I was wrong. We were wrong. The young people, in whose world we no longer entirely belong, need to own their space, and they need to do it their own way. But their space is so much smaller than they think it is. And it is a hell of a lot less cool than they think it is, because they're still constantly defining, judging, measuring, and they take themselves oh so seriously while they're at it, more, I think, with each generation, because each generation has the burden of so much more knowledge than did the previous one. 

It's only a burden if you let it be, though, and at my age, it's very freeing to let quite a lot of that go. It's much sexier. After all, 47 is the new 37, don'tcha know. 

My 13 year-old dim bulb son made a pop culture reference today in his virtual classroom that only the teacher and one other kid understood. Score! But also kind of a bummer. I said, "I think we should know pop culture, at least, that is twice as old as our age, so the older you get, the farther back you're able to go. Right now, you can go back around 30 years and I can go back around 90 years." 

Whoa! Tin Pan Alley! But this is what I think. 

There is a piece of my soul wrapped around my love for Bobby Darin, which began just about 30 years ago this month. It was just the beginning. I'd been exposed to many genres of much quality music my whole life, but that was the year I began discovering it as an adult. 

That year, Charlotte Williams and I carefully constructed a list of the composite male. Basically, think Jeremy Northam on paper, before anyone knew who he was. Well, that's probably still my physical ideal, but I no longer match my personal ideal so that's something to confront, and besides, I know a great deal more about men these days. I now know why I found Bobby Darin so sexy and still do, even though it made me vaguely uncomfortable to admit it in 1982. It's also not an overstatement to say he's one of the reasons I think men are wonderful, the little dears. Because of Bobby Darin, I know that a man can be any height and have any amount of hair and really know how to make a woman drop her jaw in desire for him, for his manhood. It's one of my favorite aspects of humanity. 

This live recording has much less polish and depth than the recording I first loved, but I think it's a treat for his birthday. 
  

Here are a couple others I really love more now, though, which are in my file library here, and on the other computer I'd know how to make them play inline:

I'm Beginning to See the Light

The More I See You

and you know, I've always wished there was a recording of him singing "Danke Schoen." He had the rights to the song, and gave it to young Wayne Newton to record for his new label, TM Records. I've read that Darin did actually do a recording of it, but that the tapes were lost in a warehouse fire in the late 60s. So, I don't know. Sigh. 

Don't look now, but the record's over.

Limewire, Wild Cherry, Mint Car, Daiquiri

As a piece of writing, this is kind of a mess. But I think you'll enjoy it, anyway. 

Limewire, which I hadn't thought of in years, is dead. Ten years ago, we tried out Napster, but when Limewire came out a little bit later just as the original Napster was taking a dirt nap, I jumped on board and had a good ride for a little while. 

 Before Lars Ulrich took control of how we discovered new music for awhile, I made some remarkable discoveries through Limewire. One day, I wanted to hear more Bobby Darin music, but there were only limited choices on CD, and I knew there must be something I was missing. Of course, this was before YouTube, certainly before YouTube became what it is today. 

I typed Bobby Darin into the search window and saw quite a few names of songs I'd never heard by anyone before. It was very exciting. 

When was this, 8 or 9 years ago? We were living in the crazy old house in Rumson, I was using the 2000 Bondi Blue iMac, and for some mysterious reason, I was alone at the time, the first time, I heard this song. 

Call Me Irresponsible

I can't express how it made me feel. It's physical. I've played this song hundreds of times since then, and I still catch my breath when it begins. 

My research showed that, at that time, it was available only on out-of-print collections. Same with the next song I fell in love with, which I described as causing me to need to change my clothes. 

I'm Beginning To See The Light

I searched for other recordings of these songs, and discovered/rediscovered other old recording artists. I learned which orchestra leaders tended toward which style of composition, and how to tell the differences between them. Because of those songs, I embraced a much larger segment of music than before, and began expanding my interests, which, really, were already fairly expansive for someone my age at that time. 

So many of us did. File-sharing clients changed the way we discovered new and old music, but more importantly, they allowed us to discover So Much More than ever before. 

I never lived near a cool college radio station. I didn't have cable TV when MTV was launched. I didn't gain access to the music I was searching for in my youth until someone introduced me to all the best stuff 1989 had to offer, stuff I'd never known how to find before. The Top 40 was all I was previously allowed to have, as a corporate citizen. And then through the early part of the 90s, we got our cool new music from MTV's 120 Minutes hosted by Dave Kendall. But it got more difficult again for a few years until the web had grown enough for everybody to start sharing with each other. 

Until, that is, Lars Ulrich and the record companies tried to put a stop to the collective groove. 

Twice in the 80s, my record collection was stolen. Limewire allowed me to find recordings of old favorites that I'd never been able to replace because they were old, out of print, or rare. 

A Fool In Love

Why pay 45 dollars to some random used book store owner for a used recording of something that had once cost me 3.98? And part of me felt that I should not have to pay for them again, because I already had, before someone else took them from me.

Which brings me to Wild Cherry, and "Mint Car."

Remember Wild Cherry? 

Play That Funky Music

Yeah, the rest of the album that song is on is just truly awful. But I paid 4 whole dollars for it in 1975 so I could have that song. There was no way for me to know then how the rest of it would sound. So often, a musical group would come up with a good song or two, but the record producer would need them released on an LP, so they put in a lot of schlock filler along with it. You could only be certain an album would be any good if you knew a whole lot about the band first, and even then, it was sometimes a miss. That's why I usually bought 78 cent singles. Other people made fun of me for not buying a lot of LPs, but I couldn't afford all that filler. 

Hard to believe, but this was still true in the 90s, for awhile. I mean, take The Cure. What Cure fan won't just buy whatever they call an album? Disintegration? Brilliant. Mixed Up? Yeah, okay, remixes, but really cool ones. That guy can play guitar, man. Wish was different, but darkly fun.  But then came Wild Mood Swings. The single "Mint Car" was a hit, but the album tanked. 

Mint Car

I think it's because it wasn't "Curish" enough. If you listen to it now, nearly 15 years later, it's really not bad. But it's kind of uneven and not all that inspiring. And even in 1996, which is the year we got the internet at our house, getting to hear that album ahead of time would not be an easy thing to do. 

Okay. For years, I didn't understand why all these ladies swooned over Michael Bublé. I didn't want anybody else, someone much younger than me, singing Frank, Dean, and Bobby's hits. And his contemporary pop music, which was all I really knew of him, seemed like romance novel pablum. But at some point, very into comparing everyone's version of "Fly Me To The Moon" or some such old song, I took a fresh listen to Bublé. I think he'd grown up a bit more by this time. And he actually made me sigh. I could tell, you know, he gets it. 

Do you think I would have gone out and bought a Michael Bublé recording in this age of ours if I hadn't gotten a very good listen first? No way. But I did, and then I did. 

Change is always in a state of acceleration. People who want to make money off everybody else always try to grab onto the latest new thing, define it, control it, repackage it to sell. Well, sure, that's enterprising. But we're moving too fast for most of them these days, and spreading out too far and wide. They hate that we don't really need them to get what we want, but basically, if they will just offer a good product honestly and not seriously piss me off by telling me that is the one way I should own something, I'll still often buy what they're selling. That's how a competitive marketplace works best. It's why I'm willing to pay a monthly fee for satellite radio. Choices spur the economy, not limitations. They don't get to sell me only pre-packaged advertising-sponsored schlock through my car radio anymore, because I get to choose another musical path, in fact, I get to choose several paths, in the car, on the computer, and on TV. And no more paying 15 dollars for a CD to which I've hardly been introduced.  

So anyway. The world wide web is a complex and amazing thing. Thanks, Limewire (with a nod to Napster,) for Bobby Darin, and Kay Kendall, and Billy May, for, finally, letting me again hear 24 Groovy Greats, and most importantly, for your part in helping the rest of us get to know each other through the music we love to share. You were stoppable, but really, we are not, anymore, and you had a hand in that.  

Daiquiri (Bossa Nova)

 

Bobby Darin is my boyfriend

It's one of those weeks. 

Some of These Days

Was Dorothy Kilgallen updended by the Bing Crosby imitation, or had she just upended a bottle of some kind?

What's My Line

music is my boyfriend

Call Me Irresponsible

Bobby Darin

Cassotto

Thanks to robbbiedobbbie for the reminder--today was Bobby Darin's birthday.

Darin

Call Me Irresponsible

Bobby Darin

Turn it up

I have determined that MenWeek takes approximately three forms. There are slight variations within each, of course. But basically I got the Lynyrd Skynyrd week, the Bobby Darin week, and the Depeche Mode week. This week I'm in the Lynyrd Skynyrd state of mind. I mean, in so far as someone like me could be in a Southern rock and roll state of mind. I'm all wearing jeans and tight sweaters and flirting with whoever walks by and last night at the bowling alley I was drinking my Bass out of the bottle at first, before good sense took over and I demanded a real glass from the bartender, who is amused at my prissy drinking habits.

I think a variation of LS week could include a Pink Floyd sensibility, but that would require a little more social interaction, maybe. Or at least colder weather.

Depeche Mode week often descends into a Red Hot Chili Peppers sort of groove, and actually, I am most often in a Bobby Darin state of mind, especially in winter, though that somehow also encompasses a Cure Consciousness, for some reason.

Okay, getting to the point, I'm trying to decide whether I am also attracted to a different type of man, or more of them or less of them during each of these moods. And is this a factor or product of human evolution? These are questions worth considering for the day.

Remember when "we" were sort of on Iraq's side against Iran? Yeah, sure, but how many other people do? Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia.