I’ve been kicking around the idea of “Song of the Day” for a week now. As anyone who says she wants to write and finds herself continually doing the dishes instead knows, sometimes trickery is required to get started. In my case, I have to find something that could possibly make me write every day. In all my reading about writing, it seems like that “every day” thing is what I’m completely lacking in.So, Song of the Day. I listen to music every day. I think about music every day. I talk about music every day. Experience tells me that music is the only thing that I can always write about.
More about the rules and parameters (and the endless mental debate) of “Song of the Day” later.
Today, my hero John Aielli is playing Halloween songs on his morning program “Eklektikos.” At this very moment, he’s playing “Sweet Transexual from Transylvannia,” which under normal circumstances would be the song of the day. I’ve been anticipating it since he played “Silent Movie Double Feature” in what he calls “the nine o’clock hour.” I did begin a little flurry of email with my Brearley friends earlier today, which puts Rocky Horror very high on the list.
Normal circumstances must bow, however, to the power of Johnny Cash.
Halloween breakfast was eaten to the tune of “The Girl from Ipanema.” “Getz/Gilberto” is in the kitchen window as part of our holiday decorations. I pointed it out to the girls and then did a little iTunes search on “Girl from” for our listening pleasure. The second song in the search results was “The Girl from the North Country.” Johnny and Bob Dylan and their failed harmonizing. Seems like some people are not meant for duets. Bob Dylan may be such a person.
Before I headed out on my Monday morning walk with my friend Susan, I did a quick search on “Walk the Line,” to get the release date. We’ve agreed that “Walk the LIne” is an opening night movie for us, and that we will be able to make our respective Virgo husbands go with us. Fortunately, it opens on the 18th, so Chris will be here and we won’t be caught up in our friends Liz and Andrew’s wedding extravganza yet. Plus, what better entree into their wedding weekend than the smouldering story of Johnny and June? After all, Liz is the person who played “Ring of Fire” before yoga class one memorable morning last fall.
In case I wasn’t paying attention to the signs that there is intelligent life in the universe, sometime in the eleven o’clock hour, “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash,” echoes in my house, followed by, “I’m Willie Nelson.” It’s their duet of “(Ghost) Riders in the Sky.”
Yippie yi yaaaay!
Plus, when I go upstairs to say to Chris, “Can you hear what he’s playing?” Chris doesn’t know the song. Chris doesn’t know the song? Chris doesn’t know the song!
Yippie yi yaaaay!
Rare is the day when Chris doesn’t know the song. Special is the feeling I have when I have superior musical knowledge.
While I can’t say that I love Willie’s guitar solo on this version, there are few songs that warm my heart more quickly. Basically, I hear Taylor singing it. Johnny Cash was the house secret in Apartment 8A at 151 East 83rd Street. Johnny Cash, fried chicken, and the way our mom’s accent got very strong when she was mad or a little drunk.
I learn all about “(Ghost) Riders in the Sky” on allmusic.com. Composed by Stan Jones, recorded first by Burl Ives (and later by Dean Martin, Tom Jones, and Lorne Greene, among others), it was hit for Johnny. I love it, I know it, and Chris doesn’t.
In honor of my friend Liz, my friend Susan, my husband Chris, my brother Taylor, and the great Johnny Cash, who looks down upon me in my kitchen as I prepare our meals and wash our dishes, the first song of the day is “(Ghost) Riders in the Sky.”
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