Music has lots of uses. Besides providing pleasing sounds to
my ears, it supplies the beat to which I can practice my awkward dance moves.
It can both soothe my fragile nerves and get me ready for a fun-filled Saturday
night. Music provides the soundtrack for a ride in our Toyota Corolla, and
makes the time fly by on a long plane ride. Music does all of these things for
me and for lots of people across the world. But did you know that music can get
a person out of trouble?
It most certainly can.
Allow me to explain.
In the early eighties, when I was a teenager in El Paso, my Mom would drop me off at school in the morning on her way to work. I'd previously ridden a bicycle, but it got stolen when we left the garage door open one careless night. So, every school day, I'd take the five minute ride in my Mom's bronze Ford Escort to be dropped off at the corner of my high school.
One particular Spring morning, I was in trouble with my Mom. I don't recall what I'd done, but it had her in a furious mood. Actually, during my teen years I often found my behavior on the wrong side of what my parents deemed acceptable. It's not that I was a bad kid, it's just that I was lazy, forgetful, and unmotivated. Consequently, I had to play catch-up on chores, sneak into the house after curfew, and be constantly nagged to go out and get a job. Other than that, I was a pretty good kid.
Fortunately, I was also a perceptive and sensitive kid. I wasn't looking forward to a silent, tension-filled ride to school with my Mom, so I sought a method to thaw her icy demeanor. The choice was obvious: Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits.
Released in 1972, Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits sold well and eventually attained the rare status of being regarded as an album in it's own right by the rock and roll mass consciousness. (Other Greatest Hits packages that became known as albums include collections by The Eagles, The Steve Miller Band, and Squeeze.)
I'd known about the songs on the Simon and Garfunkel collection since it's release. My parents had a cassette version that they played on one of those archaic, one-speaker tape players that everybody had in the early seventies. In fact, it seemed that for a long time just about everybody had a copy of that album. Uncles, teachers, coaches, friends and rivals all listened to Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits. In 1982, my driving instructor, Mr. Hanna, had a copy in the eight-track player in his driving school's car, though he wouldn't let me listen to it while I lurched him around town.
The coolest part of the Simon and Garfunkel collection is that it contains exquisitely delicate and perfectly performed live versions of their more intimate tunes along with the standard studio versions of their biggest hits. "The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)" and "Homeward Bound" are two of my favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs, and both are given the live treatment, while "The Boxer" and "Cecilia" are presented in their pristine album versions.
Another song that was recorded live for the Greatest Hits package was "Bridge Over Trouble Water," and I wouldn't argue if somebody were to assert that it's the most perfectly rendered song ever recorded in the rock and roll era. Without fail, every time I hear it, my soul is lifted along with the strings and drums to the hair-raisingly beautiful ending, where Art Garfunkel always nails the powerful climactic notes. It's just the type of song that would come in handy during a car ride with an angry Mom.
On the particular day of my ride to school with my angry Mom, I had a cassette copy of Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits that my friend Bruno had loaned me. I was running behind, and she waited for me in the idling bronze Escort on the driveway, growing more impatient and angry by the second. As soon as I got in, I slipped the tape into the player.
Needing to achieve the desired result quickly, I already had "Bridge Over Troubled Water" queued up as the first song. While the tension was at first almost too much to endure, it was already dissipating by the time the first chorus was winding down. By the time we arrived at my drop-off spot at the corner of Mackinaw Street and Sun Valley Drive, Garfunkel had done his thing and the tension was gone.
My Mom knew she'd been manipulated. She gave me a wry look, laughed, and pointed at the cassette player. "You're lucky you've got that tape!"
I'll bet she really enjoyed the rest of her ride to work.
Peace!
No comments:
Post a Comment