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Childhood music
Nov. 1st, 2006 01:31 pmAdam and I had the night to ourselves after the housemates went out to a party. We only had two kids come to the house, so it was fine. I worked on the book for a while, squealed at kittens and bunnies CuteOverload.com, got annoyed at a character on PennyandAggie.com, and generally relaxed until I decided to go to bed.
VH1 is showing a new little show called "The Greatest Songs of the 80's." And I finally got to learn exactly what Night Ranger's "Sister Christian" meant (the drummer wrote it about his younger sister, Christy).
Some of my fondest memories of being a child in that decade were the songs. In our tiny Brooklyn apartment, in my room, I had a red table and a red chair, and on that table was a lavender-colored stereo with a casette player. I would turn on the stereo every day after school, browse the stations until I found Z-100, and sit and listen for hours. Alice In Chains. Cheap Trick. Phil Collins. Lionel Richie. Guns N Roses. Bon Jovi. Journey. Duran Duran. Cyndi Lauper. The Bangles. INXS. Debbie Gibson. Madonna. REM. Aerosmith. Poison. The B-52s. Blondie. I was eight, nine, ten years old, and bouncing on my bed wildly to Axl Rose and Alice Cooper, not caring what the lyrics meant but drawn in by the sound, by that heavy powerful drum and guitar scream. It shaped the way I wrote stories, soundtracks for characters and worlds. It wasn't about the song itself. I didn't care if the singer was screaming about sex, love, death, drugs. It could have been wordless. But it was the rhythm and the beat and the force that I craved. In the 1980's of America, adults were not so panicked to try and get certain songs banned from the radio for fear their kids were listening. Some of us just didn't care what the songs meant. It was music. That's all it was.
By the time I was eleven, the decade was over; but oh, the music still lingered inside. Now, I get happy chills when, on VH1 Classics, Axl Rose howls in the original "Welcome To The Jungle" and Sebastian Bach shrieks on "Youth Gone Wild". Jon Bon Jovi is still a pretty boy with an amazing voice. And everybody remembers -- and tries to imitate -- that bone-chillingly intense drum burst in Phil Collin's "In The Air Tonight."
Besides, how could anyone not happily recall David Bowie and Freddy Mercury singing "Pressure"?
Tonight, I'll be able to catch all of the episodes except the last one. So I don't know what song is number one (although if it's a Michael Jackson song, I will be annoyed. I was never a fan of his).
VH1 is showing a new little show called "The Greatest Songs of the 80's." And I finally got to learn exactly what Night Ranger's "Sister Christian" meant (the drummer wrote it about his younger sister, Christy).
Some of my fondest memories of being a child in that decade were the songs. In our tiny Brooklyn apartment, in my room, I had a red table and a red chair, and on that table was a lavender-colored stereo with a casette player. I would turn on the stereo every day after school, browse the stations until I found Z-100, and sit and listen for hours. Alice In Chains. Cheap Trick. Phil Collins. Lionel Richie. Guns N Roses. Bon Jovi. Journey. Duran Duran. Cyndi Lauper. The Bangles. INXS. Debbie Gibson. Madonna. REM. Aerosmith. Poison. The B-52s. Blondie. I was eight, nine, ten years old, and bouncing on my bed wildly to Axl Rose and Alice Cooper, not caring what the lyrics meant but drawn in by the sound, by that heavy powerful drum and guitar scream. It shaped the way I wrote stories, soundtracks for characters and worlds. It wasn't about the song itself. I didn't care if the singer was screaming about sex, love, death, drugs. It could have been wordless. But it was the rhythm and the beat and the force that I craved. In the 1980's of America, adults were not so panicked to try and get certain songs banned from the radio for fear their kids were listening. Some of us just didn't care what the songs meant. It was music. That's all it was.
By the time I was eleven, the decade was over; but oh, the music still lingered inside. Now, I get happy chills when, on VH1 Classics, Axl Rose howls in the original "Welcome To The Jungle" and Sebastian Bach shrieks on "Youth Gone Wild". Jon Bon Jovi is still a pretty boy with an amazing voice. And everybody remembers -- and tries to imitate -- that bone-chillingly intense drum burst in Phil Collin's "In The Air Tonight."
Besides, how could anyone not happily recall David Bowie and Freddy Mercury singing "Pressure"?
Tonight, I'll be able to catch all of the episodes except the last one. So I don't know what song is number one (although if it's a Michael Jackson song, I will be annoyed. I was never a fan of his).
