Growing up I remember my mom stacking up her old vinyl records in the big chest style stereo in the living room and turning up the volume. It was the soundtrack of our lives as we cleaned house, cooked meals...tackling whatever the day had in store. In those days it was often Loretta Lynn, Conway Twitty, Kenny Rogers, and Willie Nelson (to name just a few) who filled our air waves. We owned that old stereo for a long time...well after cassette tapes became the norm. (If I remember right it played 8-tack tapes in addition to having a tuner for listening to just the radio. But for some reason playing our vinyl sticks out the most.) I used to love the richness of the sound it produced. The deep heavy base. I even had a small collection of records...the soundtracks to Grease and Saturday Night Fever (which is actually in my basement now...though I have nothing to play it on), and an album by the 80s heart throb Shaun Cassidy.
I write about this because it helps to explain why even now I'd rather have the tunes, rather than the tube, on when I'm at home. Why I turn to music when I'm happy, sad, stressed, feeling sexy, feeling playful, need a release, want to dance...etc, etc, etc. Our music collection is quite eclectic and more easily accessed since the invention of the MP3 player. Though, having grown up in the mid-west (in the rural mid-west mind you) our collection probably isn't as broad spectrumed as someone who lives in a larger metro area or who frequents music fests. Regardless, the variety serves me well in my times of need.
Take post RAGBRAI, for example, when I'm simultaneously trying to remember the sweet treat that is RAGBRAI while getting back into the groove of normal life. Frequently played music during the month of August....Bob Marley and "whatever songs of the year" helped to define our week.
Sunday mornings you'll usually find me makin' waffles and hanging with the family, the cool ocean inspired vibes of Jack Johnson or the familiar lyrics of Dave Matthew's playin' in the back ground.
With the arrival of spring and the ability to once again open up the windows, the country girl in me comes out...Skynyrd, Tim McGraw, the college memory laden lyrics of David Lee Murphy's Dust On The Bottle.
Right about now I can guarantee my husband thinks this is a funny post for me to be writing because he'll be the first to point out I'm terrible about knowing the name of a song, or who sings it, or the actual lyrics that are being sung. I don't care. For me it's about the beat and the feel and mood. So read on...
Over the years I've discovered I'm a bit of a rocker girl. Especially when life is stressful and I feel like telling the world to fuck off! Not the dark, screaming, death kinda rock. But rock. You know Pearl Jam, U2, Bon Jovi, the Stones, Aerosmith, Train. This is the Genre where I'm probably the WORST about knowing who sings what...I just know what I like when I hear it.
Timing is everything, so it is said. We're finally to the reason I decided to write this whole post in the first place. (Which I had not planned to be this long or involved!) Last week on the dooce blog, Heather posted a link to the song Sex On Fire by the Kings of Leon. I had never heard of KOL, but their 4th album is being released on the 23rd of this month. I'm hooked. I've listened to Sex On Fire like 20 times since that first click. Maybe it's just where I am right now. Maybe it's because these boys rock. I'm excited. I know both the name of the song AND the band who sings it...though the actual lyrics are still somewhat of mystery to me. I think our music collection is gonna get a little broader here in about 13 days! (Maybe a little bit longer considering....)