Swing-O-Matic

Hold on tight cause you’re in for a hell of a ride. A ride that not only spans my life so far, but many different genres of popular music. Not exactly in chronological order.

I’m one of those weird people who has very early memories and one of my earliest is the first song I remember hearing. It was 1972 and I was barely two years old. I was born in West Philadelphia. My parents, my brother and I lived in a row house near 52nd and Parkside Avenue. My mom had a big brown Zenith Bakelite radio that sat atop the refrigerator. It was tuned to WDAS Radio which played soul, funk and R&B.

My mom would put me in the Swing-O-Matic and cook dinner while she listened to the radio. I didn’t have words yet to communicate just how seasick that thing made me. That’s me in the swing thing above with my brother and grandma. The song was ‘Love Train’ by the O'Jays. I didn’t know how uplifting the lyrics of that tune were until much later, I just knew that every time it played, it made me happy. The O'Jays - Love Train

I literally cut my teeth on the O’Jays, The Delphonics, The Chi-Lites, Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes, The Stylistics, MFSB and The Sound of Philadelphia.

My father didn’t listen to music. One notable exception was an 8 Track tape he listened to occasionally of the Glenn Miller Orchestra album that played daily on Armed Forces Radio when he was in the service. Glenn Miller - In The Mood. Later in life, I discovered a biopic movie released in 1954 called The Glenn Miller Story, featuring James Steward, June Allyson and a host of actual musicians from that period. Not a piece that depicts racial or gender equality, but well worth watching if you’re into old movies.

There was an old man who lived down the block. His daughter was in prison and he was taking care of her daughter. His name was Joseph and he would sit in a rocking chair on the porch while his granddaughter Julie would play double dutch with her friends on the sidewalk. He had a record player and listened to music.

One day I walked up and sat next to him. He listened to Sister Wynona Carr, the Dixie Hummingbirds, the Staple Singers and many other Gospel groups. He explained that most of those songs tell stories of the Bible and if I wanted to hear one of his favorites, I was in for a treat. He pulled a well worn album out of the milk crate from under the record player, slid the 33 out and placed it on the turntable. I’m not a religious person, but you really gotta turn this up. Swan Silvertones - Oh Mary Don’t You Weep.

This one is a tribute to my mother. There was a sound engineer who worked on a few of the Beatles projects named Norman ‘Hurricane’ Smith who decided to do a solo tune that ended up being an international hit in ‘73. The tune was called ‘Oh Babe, What Would You Say’. Hurricane Smith - Oh, Babe, What Would You Say?

I remember my mom dancing around the house while doing chores and singing this tune. She absolutely loved it. Easily one of her all time favorites.

In early ‘77, I accompanied my mom and brother to the record shop. My brother had already been collecting 45’s for a few years and having heard it on the radio, I convinced my mom to purchase my first one which was ‘Sir Duke’ by Stevie Wonder. Stevie Wonder - Sir Duke Other than it being a funky tune that I loved and the fact that I like Stevie Wonder’s music a lot, it was simply a landmark. My very first 45. In a sense, it meant that I owned music for the first time and that I could listen to it almost any time I wanted to.

My father brought some toys home from WW2. They ended up in a small bucket at the back of the very top shelf of the kitchen cabinet. I discovered this assortment of danger at 11pm during the worst snowstorm PA has ever seen. I brought it down to the kitchen table, dumped it out and began playing. Among the artifacts was a mag of live Browning .30 caliber cartridges, a military tear gas gun and a flash grenade.

A few days later, I woke up in the hospital with my entire head wrapped in gauze. The pain was incredible. Third degree burns across my face, steel shrapnel embedded in my eyes and most of my hair singed off. I overheard doctors trying to prepare my folks for the worst and most likely outcome. Earlier the day of the accident, my mother had the radio on and I’m not fond of the artist at all, but Rod Stewart’s ‘You’re in My Heart’ was playing.

A seven year old kid alone at night in a hospital bed. Just after a recent awakening to the colors, textures and beauty of the natural world for the first time. In the midst of a nervous breakdown, thinking about not being able to see anything ever again.. this song was in the back of my mind. Rod Stewart - You're In My Heart

I was completely blind for two years. A few surgeries later, by middle school I had regained enough eyesight to function somewhat normally with really thick glasses. My mother learned that other parents were getting their kids into music programs, but by the time she took action, the only instrument left was the flute. I attempted to convince her that maybe we should try again next year.

So there I was, the only boy in a room full of girls. Even though I identified with girls so much more than boys, I was still somewhat embarrassed and struggling with this infernal device. When I got home and walked in the door, I threw the flute case onto the couch in disgust. My older brother sensing my frustration told me he needed to play something for me and dragged me up to his room. He put on a tune called ‘Locomotive Breath' by the band Jethro Tull. He pointed out this part where the band's leader Ian Anderson broke out a flute solo. My brother said: “Rock N Roll Flute lil’ brother, what do you think about that?” I was amazed. Jethro Tull - Locomotive Breath. I began to think that the flute could be more than the boring scales I was forced to practice. No long term interest in the flute, but I eventually got to see Jethro Tull do two shows at the Tower Theatre.

As a kid I was quiet, artistic and different. I didn’t really fit in. I had a few friends, but spent most of the time alone, drawing, writing and yearning to find a way to express how I felt inside. My friend's older sister let me listen to the Beach Boys album ‘Pet Sounds’ with her and I loved it all, but one tune really hit home. It’s called I Just Wasn't Made For These Times. The Beach Boys - I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times. For all of you who think California Girls and Good Vibrations are all there is to the Beach Boys, you owe it to yourself to do a deeper dive into their catalog. This same person was also responsible for my love of the progressive rock band YES. She and I listened to The Yes Album together in its entirety and it really blew me away. Now that I think about it, she really blew me away. I wonder where she is and what she’s up to these days.

My father’s business was doing well enough I’m happy to say, to get us the hell out of Dodge. Although I’m proud to be from West Philly, back then it was a place of gang violence, civil unrest and police brutality. We moved out to the burbs and one of my first friends named Mike built this wonderful setup in his basement for model making. My brother and I would spend hours building model kits and we listened to whatever music we wanted to, but sometimes we were subject to Mike’s moms music. I think her name was Jeanette. She had a thing for this 1960’s Italian crooner named Tony Renis and played his records all the time. The tune I remember (and heard so many times I can sing it in Italian) is Tony Renis - Quando Dico Che Ti Amo.

I discovered the Grateful Dead in high school. No, they weren’t hanging out in my high school, but they set the theme to my junior and senior years. I had long hair and loved the ideals, the sense of freedom, dancing with hippie angels (the stars in my heaven) and of course the pot and shroom tea. I needed an outlet and my friends gave me one. Now I wasn’t the one with the briefcase of tapes under the bed who could recite set lists from shows that took place before I was born, or saw anywhere near as many shows as my friends.. but I grew to love that scene.

The Dead were excalibur musicians and it was a joy watching them play off each other. There was a New York show I saw in ‘89 where I remember the boys having a blast. Thankfully, one of those shows was videotaped. Here is a staple tune in their repertoire, the iconic cover of Buddy Holly’s ‘Not Fade Away’. Grateful Dead - Not Fade Away

When I went to college, I went to art school. This was yet another chapter in my life that couldn’t have happened any other way. I’d be hard pressed to capture the zeitgeist of it in a paragraph. It was all just a wonderful blur. My world opened up in so many ways. I was in a heightened state of creativity most of the time. I met lots of new, different and vibrant people. The music that I associate with this period is Philly Punk. In particular, The Dead Milkmen, who I’d met, hung out with a few times and attended their shows at the TLA on South Street. The Dead Milkmen - Punk Rock Girl. There were so many great bands in Philly at that time and so many wonderful, dark, sticky floored venues.

After working in the design field for a few years, I connected with an amazing person who became a lover and traveling companion. She wanted to do the great American thing.. pack up a car and go see the country. We took a few years and zig zagged across, staying and working for a few weeks here and there when we discovered places we liked. As a gift before we left, my friend Steve gave me a Rush CD called ‘Roll the Bones’. He knew I liked Rush and my partner and I fell in love with this one tune on the album called ‘Dreamline’. It quickly became the anthem of our cross country journey and we played it every time we got back into the car to hit the road again. Rush - Dreamline

I’ve had a long journey and discovered a lot about myself. Who I am, who I was and how everything is subject to change. Behind it all is a naïve desire to live in a humane humanity where everyone who wishes to coexist peacefully are accorded a base level of kindness and respect. This seems to be an unreasonable expectation, given the fact that more people than ever refuse to accept others who live their lives in a different, but peaceful way. There are two tunes that I fall back on whenever I feel like humanity is nothing more than a failed experiment.

My brother is a huge Steely Dan fan and he introduced me to their music. I highly recommend checking them out. This is off the album Katy Lied, it’s called ‘Any World’. Steely Dan - Any World (That I'm Welcome To) Really hits home for me.

The other was written by Nick Lowe for Elvis Costello. It’s called What’s so Funny ‘Bout Peace Love and Understanding. Elvis Costello & The Attractions - (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding

Years ago, I separated from a partner. There was a tune I heard from a Brazilian group around that time. There is no significant meaning to it other than a feeling of letting go. Freeing myself from an uncomfortable situation. Tribalistas - Ja Sei Namorar

Recently, I heard a poppy tune from an indie rock group that I love. The reason why I love it is because it’s light. There’s a lot to worry about these days and I spend enough time contemplating the injustices facing people of my country and the world. You would think that having a rudimentary understanding of the challenges that people face around the world might be enlightening, but I think it’s actually en-heavying. Let this one lighten you up a bit. Wet Leg - Being In Love