The Good, The Bad and the Underwear

Inspired by my near-death experience with Michael Bolton (that is, hearing him almost killed me) it occurred to me that a whole lot of music flows into my ears over the course of a day, largely without my permission. I thought I should start paying closer attention, so this weekend I started taking notes about that with which my ears fraternized. Here are some of the highlights (and a couple of lowlights).

Saturday, 8 AM (on the way to soccer): My 8-year old is appearing in a production of Pippin this week, so the soundtrack has been pretty high on the carpool hit list (much to the chagrin of my frontal lobe). I simply had to veto another auditioning of Corner of the Sky, opting instead for the '60s and '70s oldies station (as safe a bet as any). The Zombies’ She’s Not There (actually second rate to Santana’s version), No Matter What by Badfinger and Papa Was A Rolling Stone by the Temptations (which was actually a pleasant surprise). It wasn’t such a pleasant surprise that my guy’s ended their 6-game win streak by sleeping through the game, though. No We Are the Champions on the way home for these losers!

Saturday, 12 Noon (at the local department store shopping for a pair of sneaker laces, two pints of Wavy Gravy and a package of Fruit of the Looms): As much as I’m a fan of the unbridled poppy-ness of  solo McCartney, I can live without Ebony And Ivory. But, hearing another cut from that record, Take It Away, was actually refreshing. How can you lose with a song that includes the word “impresario,” such a lyrical word? Sadly, it was spoiled by being followed by some late model pop tartlet whining about somebody loving her too long (or was it leaving her too long?).

Saturday, 7PM (movie night with the kids): They’re into musicals, so naturally we watched Rocky IV. Everything in Rocky’s III-XXVII sounds like a revision of Eye of the Tiger. In this case, because he was fighting the Russian guy (played by Dolph Lundgren), everything sounded like Eye of the Tiger merged with Rachmaninoff. Let’s face it: there was nothing fresh about Rocky at that point.

Sunday, 8AM (on the way to church). (Yes, church): Still avoided Pippin. It appears my vigorous opposition the day before was unwarranted; my wife had removed the disc from the car, anyway. Switched on the Sunday morning acoustic sunrise thing on the faux adult rock station: couldn’t hear the titles over the complaining from the kids about going to church (yes, church) but I recognized Tuck and Patti, John Gorka and Jackson Browne (the perfect accompaniment to complaining children)

Sunday, 1PM (at the combination vegan restaurant/yoga ashram, celebrating my wife’s birthday.) (Yes, vegan restaurant): Over lime cilantro pate and brown rice, I was surprised to hear Tony Scott’s Music for Zen Meditation. Usually vegan restaurants in Portland lean toward Ani DiFranco or obscure girl metal bands.

Sunday, 9PM (while writing this article): As an antidote to the vegan restaurant, I decided to go to Pandora and type in “Meat Puppets” (yes, meat) and see what would happen. Got Oh Me by Meat Puppets, In The Mouth A Desert by Pavement, Summer by Modest Mouse, Dune Buggy by The Presidents Of The United States and, believe it or not, Barstool Blues by Neil Young.  Hey, you just don’t hear that stuff when you’re shopping for underwear!