Make Me Lose Control

Remember when songs used to tell a story?  I can't even remember the last time I heard a new song on the radio that resembled anything more than a string of redundant, overly-simple phrases created purely for the purpose of pushing record sales and selling products. Although, to be fair, I suppose some songwriters still strive to weave some sort of narrative for their audience.  Country singers have done a fairly good job of continuing to tell tales, although I don't know what sort of moral I'm supposed to draw from "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk." 

People have always told me that I'm an 'old soul', that I have 'grandma taste', and/or that I am clearly biased against any song written after 1988. These people are not wrong. In fact, if you've ever asked yourself, "why does my good friend, Lindsey, insist on listening to nothing but oldies and classic rock?" here's your chance to learn the answer.  It isn't glamorous.  Actually, I've already completely given it away up there at the start of the intro.  You see, I like stories, and modern music just doesn't tug at my heart strings the way the golden oldies do.

For example, take one of my all-time favorite songs, "Band of Gold." At first glance it really just sounds like a breakup song.  Boy left girl; girl sings a doo-wop number about it.  Wrong!  Listen to it again.  Go ahead, you know you want to.



This song is actually about a woman who, on her honeymoon, chickens out of having sex with her new husband.  He gets angry and leaves the room, and she spends the rest of the night hoping that he'll come back in and give her another chance.  "Band of Gold" provides one of the most fantastic juxtapositions in musical history.  Despite the upbeat, happy nature of the melody, the meaning behind the lyrics is intense and raw.  Brilliant!

Remember Bon Jovi?  Of course you do!  Who doesn't love to scream "Living on a Prayer" at the top of their lungs while driving down the interstate with a car full of good friends?  I know I sure do.  If you're with me then you definitely remember the opening lyrics.  We all know poor Tommy so well, don't we?  And Gina, who dreams of running away?  Yep, in a way we're all "halfway there" right with the characters, clinging to our youth while simultaneously trying to survive in the real world.

Yeah, I love "Slippery When Wet" as much as the next 45 year old, but my heart has always truly belonged to the 70s folk rock gods and goddesses.  Every year when the radio station officially switches to nothing but holiday music, my heart skips a beat in anticipation of Dan Fogelberg's "Same Old Lang Syne." I'm not sure why they reserve it exclusively for the holiday mix.  If I had my way, Dan would be welcome on public broadcast 365 days a year.  The lyrics of this song are so honest and relatable, never mind that it was based entirely on a true story. Every time I hear it I feel like I'm right there with them, in the frozen food aisle, fumbling at the checkout stand, awkwardly conversing in the car, and finally saying goodnight.  Don't get me wrong, all of Fogelberg's songs are written as stories, but this one really hits at something in me.  I'm not sure why. [Forgive me, but these YouTube fan compilations crack me up.  Sorry I couldn't find a better video.]



I'm sure by now you get the point, and you're thinking to yourself "oh my gosh, Lindsey, are you still talking about this?  And why am I even still reading?" Well, I'll tell you why. It's because you miss the stories, too.  We all miss the good old days when music wasn't weird for weird's sake, or created specifically to address some gap in the MTV culture, or mindlessly repetitive to the point where you can't decide whether to keep singing along to it or to bash your car stereo in with a hammer.  I know this feeling all too well.  Every time Chris and I are in the grocery store and I'm singing every lyric to every awful new song (even though I've never heard most of them before), he stares at me with daggers in his eyes and contempt in his heart (don't worry, he's Hardcore). I can't blame him; I kind of hate that I do it, too, but I can't help it.  Music is made to be easy, accessible, and repetitive these days.  You only have to hear a song twice to think it's probably your favorite.  Think about it in terms of cognitive dissonance: "I know all the words to this song!  Wait, why do I know all of the words to this song?  It must be because I really like it!"

This is not meant to be a justification of my taste in music, or a plea for any of you to join me on the 'Dark Side' of grandma-tasticness. Think of this post more like a call to arms for all of the modern musicians and up-and-comers in the world (because clearly they all read my blog) to honor the true purpose of music, to tell stories that will touch our hearts and inspire our souls.  Like this delightfully sad number, originally performed by Fifth Dimension and revived for episode 16 of Glee Season 1. Until next time, toodle-oo!