A Playlist Series

American Crisis Playlist #37

New moons and time changes

The time changes again tonight, and I was almost caught off-guard. This is why, I assume, clocks spring forward and back on late Saturday nights. People like me who don’t attend the church of their choice — if we forget about time, we’ll just have an extra or less hour to do whatever we do on Sunday: walk the dog, write for The Riff, or in this season, finish up taxes.

Anyway, yesterday my chiropractor literally had my back, and so I am ready for whatever one less hour means tomorrow.

Also, I had my first Pfizer vaccine last week, and so in another three weeks, I’ll be fully vaccinated and ready to resume normal life, whatever that will look like. I wonder if I’ll still recognize my town, Greenville, and if I’ll notice what has transpired in my absence? I’ve been strangely content since President Biden was inaugurated, and have loved the calming influence. I’ve also been reading more prompts and challenges by my fellow writers. Last week, Harry Mule wrote a story about playlists and food. I thought I’d follow with a list dedicated to an orb that has guided me all of my life, the beautiful and exotic moon.

I’ll ask right from the start that you don’t scream about the songs not on the list. Sure, I thought about “Moondance,” and “Mr. Moonlight,” and even considered “Moonbeams and Bluejeans,” but I sang these songs to myself and didn’t like my own sound. So I sang the others and felt much better. It’s cloudy here today, if that influences anyone’s reading or contemplation. Yesterday, it was 82 degrees; today, almost 20 degrees cooler.

I hope you and the Moon understand.

And please accept the challenge. You don’t have to be as obvious as I might be, either. But please keep in mind that my home state’s GOP just passed a resolution naming our former cretin-in-chief as “one of the greatest presidents in our country’s history.” So no Alabama moons here.

AMERICAN CRISIS PLAYLIST #37

1. “Mr. Sun, Mr. Moon,” Paul Revere and the Raiders, from Hard ‘N Heavy (With Marshmallow), 1969. A happy little ditty from the band I loved the most back in the 60’s. I kept wanting someone else in my guy group to love and appreciate them, too, but songs like this — happy feel good numbers — just didn’t appeal to angry, surly tough guys (you know how 13 year-old boys are, right?). At least it made it to #9 on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand’s Top Ten.
2. “Moonlight, Feels Right,” Starbuck from Moonlight Feels Right, 1976. Apple Music classifies this as Disco. I don’t see it, nor am I sure how I managed to hear and remember it. In 1976, I was a junior in college, and considered myself above Pop. Of course, I loved Disco, so I don’t know who was fooling whom. This isn’t Disco, and I’m sure I heard it on my mother’s AM car radio. And whatever else you might think, it was the first song that came to my mind when I conceived this list.
3. “Moonage Daydream,” David Bowie from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust (and the Spiders From Mars) 1972. It felt transgressive, somehow, to receive this record for a Christmas present from my friend Jimbo in that year when he and I were sixteen years old. I had read about Bowie in various music mags, and I think he even made it to Time. On a first listen, I didn’t know what to think, how to feel. There I was — alone in my darkened room, the glow of the stereo receiver the only shining glimmer near me. And then I heard this song, and life changed forever — at least musically.
4. “Moonshadow,” Cat Stevens, from Teaser and the Firecat, 1971. I understand that he didn’t turn out like we planned, which might be as much on us, given that we seem to think that we own the artists and that they should continue following some script we’ve agreed on with, or for, them. I don’t pretend to know what all went on in Cat’s head, or why he decided to follow the more radical notions issued out of Islamic Iran. What I do know is that this is the only song my wife and I have ever sung karaoke to. We sounded so gooooooood. Just ask our daughters.
5. “Harvest Moon,” Neil Young, from Harvest Moon (1992). So sue me: I’m a Neil junkie or freak or addict. Believe it or not, this isn’t my favorite song or album by far. I felt it was a revisit of a better record from the early 70’s, and I had put it out of my head until Poolside covered it. I always appreciated the hard-rockin’ Neil the best, and if I had to go for the ballads, then After the Gold Rush satisfied me more. But I played this for my babies often enough — a lullaby of sorts to soothe all of our troubles. It’s still soothing, too.
6. “Moonlight Serenade,” Glenn Miller, from many records all over your favorite music service, but first released in 1939 on the Bluebird label. Miller was one of my Dad’s favorite musicians, next to Benny Goodman. I don’t know if this was Dad’s favorite Miller song, and I wish I could ask him. I also wish I could tell him how much I love this tune; how much I love Miller, too; and how much I appreciate his exposing me to the Big Band and small combo swing music of his youth. Dad had tons of 78’s. We kept them for a long time, but their condition deteriorated to almost nothing. One of many regrets. Listen, though, and understand what beauty and artistry are.
7. “Moonlight in Vermont,” Stan Getz, which you may find on Getz for Lovers, released in 2002, but clearly all over the Getz library. The first two CD’s I ever bought were a Benny Goodman release and a Getz compilation, where, to my memory, I first heard this song — a song I consider THE most romantic song I’ve ever heard. When you think sultry saxophone, how could you not think of this one? Please play this for me when I grow old and am ready for my own lullaby again.
8. “Blue Moon,” Elvis Presley, from 1956’s Elvis Presley. My brother would kill me if I didn’t include Elvis on this list. This album, from my birth year, used to sit in the front of his album collection. Everyone in our household loved Elvis, and even my Dad would have grudgingly admitted that “The King” was something else. I think of the changes, yet the consistency, of what appeals to us about the music of our lives: mellow notes, the intensity of someone who knows that when he sings or plays, no one has or will ever sound like this.
9. “Dancing in the Moonlight,” King Harvest from 1973’s Dancing in the Moonlight. Why do I associate this song with the bands I loved back in this era, from Neil to The Eagles to America and The New Riders of the Purple Sage? The folkiness, the alt-country vibe? Such a one-hit wonder, though, and I know there have been covers, but for me, this song screams driving around in my friend Jim’s mother’s wide car — a Buick or a Chevy — and us singing to our vocal heights. And then the following spring, we’d graduate and go on to even greater heights.
10. “Moon River,” lyrics by Johnny Mercer, composition by Henry Mancini, sung by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and made even more popular by Andy Williams — his theme song which he intoned every week on his TV series in the 60’s. That was a mouthful. I always liked this song when my parents played it or I heard it on Williams’ show. But I didn’t love it until I finally watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s four years ago. I swear, if they hadn’t found that cat…but they did. I wondered if I had ever heard anything more beautiful, and also why it had taken me so long to appreciate this Capote work and Hepburn’s acting.

Thanks for riding in the moonlight with me. There are many other great stories on The Riff, so check them out and give a shout to Noah Levy, Aimée Gramblin, Kathy Gerstorff, Kevin Alexander, If Ever You’re Listening, Steven Hale, Rob Janicke, Nia Simone McLeod, Jessica Lee McMillan, Gary Chapin, Christopher Robin, Frank Mastropolo, Oliver Norris, and so many others!

Here’s last week’s list if you missed it: