The Crucial Musical Legacy My Mother Left Me
She probably never even realized it
My mom passed away three days ago at the age of 83 (how’s that for a cheerful Monday opening?). Not surprisingly, I haven’t been able to work through the flood of emotions in such a brief time, but I needed to do something and thus I decided to start dealing with them on the page. I guess the one thing I have in common with the legendary Joan Didion is that I don’t know what I think until I write it down (I certainly don’t have her talent).
Mom would find it odd that I’m starting with music, because for the past five decades our musical tastes couldn’t have been more different. She would listen to old country music by Gene Watson and Ray Price non-stop and would have surely been terrified by the mere sight of Judas Priest’s Rob Halford (Morrissey would have simply befuddled her, but he does that to most people). However, though she probably never realized it, the music of her youth laid the foundation for what I love musically to this day.
When I was probably seven years old (two years before Springsteen’s “Born to Run” changed my life forever in 1975), I found a case (it actually looked more like a photo album) that contained the 45 rpm records from my mom’s teen and early adult years. For anyone so young that they have no clue what I’m talking about when I say “records,” they were an ancient technology consisting of round hardened wax with a groove you put a needle on that played music (my kids didn’t believe me the first time I explained how that worked).
For this installment of Rate-A-Record, I give you four of the singles in that case I found; three of them were more formative for me than I could have ever imagined, while the final one was her favorite song of all time. As always for this series started by American Bandstand and perfected by Terry Barr, rate each song in the comments using the odd scale of 35 to 98. Terry is also proof that my brain is all over the place right now; the only thing I remember from the NFL playoffs this past weekend is that Houston Texans head coach DeMeko Ryans is from Bessemer, Alabama, which is also Terry’s hometown.
“Runaway” — Del Shannon
This was the first record I saw when I opened that case, and what a record it is. Unless you count “Hats Off to Larry,” (which was also in the case), Del Shannon was a one-hit wonder, but if you only get one hit you can’t do much better than “Runaway.”
I found the video above a few years ago, from a performance on a show called “Hollywood a Go-Go,” and watching those girls with the crazy hairstyles dance around I realized something. They are about the same age my mom would have been then; when she would have been doing the shag or the swim or whatever to this song, she was 30 years younger than I am now. I think I just broke my brain.
“Johnny B. Goode” — Chuck Berry
The next single I pulled out was by a man who was definitely not a one-hit wonder. Except for “Born to Run,” no record since has hit me in quite the same way hearing Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” the first time did. I can’t even put it into words; I just know that five decades later, the only act I’ve seen live more often than Chuck Berry is Bruce.
“Bring It On Home to Me” — Sam Cooke
As if those two weren’t amazing enough (as well as ones by the Drifters, the Ronettes, and the Everly Brothers), the final record in the case held the most beautiful voice I have ever heard, before or since. I have often said that my Holy Trinity of singers is Bruce, Bono, and Eddie Vedder, but none of them can match Sam Cooke. Give this song a listen and try to tell me I’m wrong.
“Kiss an Angel Good Mornin’” — Charley Pride
This song, which was her favorite, is the one that I will always think of first when I think of her. It’s the one that I will play on repeat with a bottle of Wild Turkey in a few weeks when I can get away from family and logistics and all the other madness that accompanies death and mourn properly. Don’t rate this one; I don’t want to have to block anyone who rates it lower than 98.
I was going to end with the traditional “fair winds and following seas” sentiment, but mom was an old-school Catholic (even though she was bit lapsed over the past few decades), so I will close with this:
Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.
(Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.)
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