Sixteen at 16. Love Is 1989
A musical musing to cover a big year.
I’ve been on a tear.
Over the last couple of weeks, I have doubled down on my efforts to forge and force something sustainable to break over the horizon with my writing. It’s been head up and fingers pounding down, sending out submissions to literary magazines, chasing freelance writing gigs, and pitching my Hungarian paprika heart out. The result is that I’m averaging about 5000 words a day.
I also pulled up my big boy pants, dusted off the folder holding my “big” novel- The one I wanted to get right; The one that will burn across the NY Times Bestseller list hotter than Fifty Shades of Grey and pass the immortal streak of Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
That opus has been sitting dormant at some 47K words, which I estimate at being one-quarter of the way to completion.
So, how does that relate to this musical ride down glory day lane? Two words. One name.
Paul Combs
Combs penned this piece about it being high time to put up or shut up. His smack across my sensibility? If you have a novel, work-in-progress, then get to it.
Everything else, one way or another, is an excuse: a roadblock and a diversion. So stop being a coward, discard that imposter syndrome and get to work.
It was Combs, who is only a smidgen older than me, that lit match to the kindling under my butt. So the day after reading his piece, I restructured my routine, scheduled it, pasted it to the wall, and have gone at it guns a-blazing.
Then, Combs pulled the curtain back and offered front-row seats to the best music festival of your life. The glory days of being sixteen. That year in your trivial existence that shined with bravado shouted in defiance and swooned with love. Ah, sixteen.
As a guy, it’s the year you learned what it was to lay it all on the line for a gal. How it felt to lose a fistfight badly, and how to live with parents that didn’t know how to love you anymore but did anyway.
Paul tagged me at the end of his article, and I was smiling. Then, in the same way, he handed me the ax and pushed me to the grindstone; he also gave me a tumbler of whiskey two fingers deep and said, “Put your feet up, think back and play a song.”
The original prompt is from Pierce McIntyre below
Sticking to the guidelines of songs released the year I was 16, this is my reflection with a musical injection of a damn fine year where only two things truly mattered-Girls and Fly Fishing.
#1- Love Is-Alannah Myles. As a Canadian, I’ve got to start with a Canadian smash. Alannah was hot! A smoky, husky, sexy-voiced vamp, screeching out a kick-ass rock song.
In 1989, a royal rumble of babes populated the charts. Madonna, Paula Abdul, Janet Jackson, Belinda Carlisle, and my newest crush-that sweet, adorable Aussie, Kylie Minogue. But, as a dude, if you enjoyed the tunes from those girls, you kept it a secret.
Alannah was the exception because her love song was a rock song.
#2- Good Thing — Fine Young Cannibals. Two reasons for this song making the cut. First, it’s a fun tune, catchy and all that. But the real reason is that their singer, Roland Gift was the doppelganger for my pal’s father. I mean, mirror image! Mr. K didn’t think so, but we caught him singing along in the garage, and for a moment, we considered the possibility of him living a double life.
#3- The Look-Roxette. This Swedish duo was different and great! Marie Fredriksson was a babe with her pixie-punk, platinum hairstyle, and sweet vocals. The Look was the first hit, but they followed with the equally good, Dressed for Success and love ballad, Listen to Your Heart. The Swedes followed this album with Joyride in ’91, the title song opening with, “Hello, you fool. I love you.” Sadly, Marie succumbed to complications from a brain tumor, passing away in 2019.
#4- Wild Thing-Tone Loc. Up in the corner of Canada, where hockey, hunting, mining, and fishing were the cornerstones of existence, Rap music didn’t infiltrate the Great White North. However, Tone Loc’s “Wild Thing” was a fun riot of a different flavor. Everyone loved it.
#5–8. This grouping can be called “High School Dance.” From the sleazy and sexy shock rock of (#5)“Love In An Elevator-Aerosmith to the-must grab a girl rock ballads of (#6)-I’ll Be There For You-Bon Jovi, and (#7) Every Rose Has Its Thorn-Poison. Then to the necessary, girl flinging, giggle-inducing, two-stepping(#8) Honky Tonk Man-Dwight Yoakam, those nights under the disco ball in the gymnasium were highlight moments.
It was also Honky Tonk Man that played in the bar one night early in the courtship of my wife where she learned to hang on and follow my two-stepping twist and twirl across the dance floor. (maybe that sealed the deal??)
#9-Paradise City-Guns n’ Roses. In ’89, GnR came to Calgary, the closest metropolis to our small town. A pile of us made the four-hour journey to this rock spectacle. Three things blew our young minds that night. 1) Guns n Roses were kickass, 2) Girls hoisted on guy’s shoulders paid for the premium stage view with thrown bras and topless flashes (everywhere, all sizes, all night long.), and 3) Rock stars are Gods. What a wicked fun time!
#10-Personal Jesus-Depeche Mode. My best pal, Wolfy, was the kid in town that was on the cutting edge of everything artistic. Music, movies, and more. Wolfy’s room had shelves filled with music you’d never heard of, and if one of his favorites made the Top 40, he would be sickened by it.
He marched through town and school with a trench coat and shades as the odd kid who didn’t give a hoot. He’d been a big supporter of Depeche Mode for years and didn’t consider this their best but accepted the sellout was acceptable for the musical education of the masses.
#11–13-The Big Feels. At sixteen, a lot is going on in your little world, and in 1989 there were plenty of big things happening in the real world.
At #11-We Didn’t Start the Fire-Billy Joel. The Cold War was thawing, and the Berlin Wall came tumbling down. Mr. Long Island had his fingers on the ivory keys of current events.
It was a hit, but it was awesome because The Piano Man belts out “Budapest” in the lyrics, which was probably the first time anyone gave Hungary a splash in the mainstream spotlight.
#12-The Living Years-Mike and the Mechanics. A chart-topper and a heart-stopper. Fathers and Sons. End of Story.
#13-Young Love-The Judds. Girls (sigh) couldn’t you just love them all? This tender song spurred long walks along forest paths, holding hands with the sun falling behind peaks and dreams dripping with sweetness and the breathless kisses to match. Back then, there were handwritten love letters on paper and stuffed envelopes delivered before or after school — an attempt or two at poetry reciprocated by sparkling eyes and smiles so bright. Young love.
#14-Killin Time-Clint Black. I have a distinct memory tied to this song. There are three of us in Jarod’s Red Chevy S-10 Blazer, and we’ve cut into the woods on our way to secret trout waters. My two fly fishing mentors, Jarod and Mike, are bringing me along.
Once in the woods on the switchback forestry trunk roads, its windows down and the scent of pines of wild grass blowing in our faces. We hit the dirt road with Alannah Myles-Love Is, Jarod’s favorite playing, then sliding into Clint Black-Killin Time with all three of us trying to nail the Honky Tonk twang. I still sing along with all the twang I can muster today and play these songs when I turn off the highway and head to the mountain streams with my daughter.
#15-Bust A Move-Young MC. Fun. “This here’s a jam for all the fellas” is a good time all the time.
#16-End of the Line-The Traveling Wilbury’s. A supergroup of bluegrass-folky-Americana artists played well on this side of the border. I remembered the uniqueness of the sound and loved the storytelling quality of their songs.
Curtain closed.
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