Could it really, really be?

Oh, you sing of love and longing, the joy and the helplessness of it, better than anyone. That sweet, easy voice--stronger and more primal than actual memory, woven into my childhood mind and heart, even if it was coming out of a tinny Toyota radio.

And then, when I grew up, and loved and longed for "sweet----wonderful you" with "your mood...like a circus wheel, changing all the time" while "waiting for the sun to come up," the words and the tone and the feeling merged and I understood what you were doing more deeply.

These Tusk songs mean more to me than the formative stuff on WLAP when I was a kid, somehow. Maybe because they are (relatively) new discoveries, made in adulthood. And "Songbird" is too unearthly to even hear outside of life events.

Somehow, because I didn't hear her singing these out of the car radio or from vintage vinyl of their perfect, signature album, the songs are mine, to me, for me, from her.

He can't explain

A thought, that has arrived as suddenly as there seem to be buds and sprouts on the ends of the limbs outside, lodged as I typed the wrong decade in a date: will I still be doing this in that wrong decade? 

Just as I thought a decade ago? 

Funny thing is, I returned to a self-designed workout I used to do alone in the group fitness room at the old gym, when it was Ballys, in a steady and clean-ish place that preceded the steep decline when LA Fitness took over, with all decisions about things like cleanliness, staffing, and classes "going through Corporate." Yes, I returned to this workout that I do on top of a BOSU, bouncing and struggling to stay steady and manipulate some weights.

But, my god, was there relief in putting my body through moves it remembers from 13-14 years ago! We can  do this, it said, we can do it, captain! 

I can helm my little BOSU boat, doing rows (sorry) and squats, released from what's become a ponderous and trying prison of screechy YouTube videos. Those appealed at first, and felt like being part of a class. But I was half with them, half inside myself.

On my BOSU, I'm all there, in the moment.

This all has nothing to do with Michael Franks, except that maybe he will be all I can tolerate when I am working at the computer in the ...thirties.

But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you

Nope, didn't learn about this from Three Billboards, but rather from my Grandad's copy of Voulez-Vous that he gave to me probably not long after it came out. Maybe he didn't care for it, maybe he expected it to line up more with the less disco-y Arrival. What I do know for sure is that I was, even at 10 or 11, pretty floored that he even bought himself an ABBA album.

Strength and solidarity. Or a message you can send to/hear from yourself.

Well, I can dance with you, honey

Going to the pool was PURE EXCITEMENT and then you're IN it and this song comes on and you want to sing and shake a little to it but, you know, you're in the pool. But it's the big YWCA pool, so maybe no one will notice if you make up a little showtune-type dance to it, it being so MUSICAL, like a musical, with multiple voices high and low, soft and loud then all chiming in a big crescendo when you don't know crescendo means, but also with a guitar riff, even though you don't know it's called a RIFF.



Not to mention the POINT of it, lyrically speaking.

You let your mind out somewhere down the road

This one comes directly from the indoor/outdoor pool at the YWCA on Cross Keys Road, the week-long day camp that my cousin and I attended thanks to the largesse of my grandmother. There was this song on some tinny transistor or other, and (somehow?) the chance to see the That pool was enormous. Want to swim inside? Cool. Want to run and jump in in the sunshine? You got it.

I can't remember ever going in the winter, though we could have.

You're the poet in my heart.

I've always said, "Stevie always, always helps," but I didn't include this Stevie.

Stevie Nicks recalled the first time she stood on the painted floor of the Velvet Underground, a clothing store in San Francisco where Janis Joplin was known to shop for her stage looks. She talked about seeing her future as a musician there and urged everyone present to stick to their dreams — a platitude, maybe, but one that took flight coming from your hippie aunt Stevie Nicks.

I haven't been able to stop listening to Tusk lately. This isn't the only reason why, as it is, collectively, quite a balm to the spirits and mind lately--but it's a big reason why Tusk feels like the hug of a warm summer night for me. (Except, maybe, this)

I chase my vinyl dreams to Boogie Wonderland

Thank you for reminding us of "universal love and harmony." It wasn;t just in the words, it was in the joyous, joyous sounds. I've heard this song thousands of times and EVERY TIME my heart rises.

A holistic practitioner of sorts--New Age-y, if you will--once explained to me that when one dances, one's spirit literally rises up above the physical self. Or something like that.

That is exactly what happens when I hear EWF. And likely what Maurice was going for.

ALL THE RECORDS ARE PLAYING AND MY HEART KEEPS SAYING

It will never be the same again

It's an afterthought kind of song, but I love it anyway.

Random Play: There was voodoo in the vibes

This is a fine example of what I like to call wide-lapel sleeze rock: you know, where a quick and sleazy encounter is described in great, brandied detail as a satin-sheeted, smoky assignation accompanied by a guitar riff that'll unzip pants, or by shoulder-baring saxophones, or some silken synths. This unfettered, sexy epoch was short, only 1977-79, but that's, what,

What kind of night? It's when you're asked to loosen up that pretty French gown since we can turn the lights down low and be swayin' to the music  til the night closes in (shout out to Richmond, KY!), because you'd rather be a fool with a broken heart than a liar.

Slow Hand, of course, just cuts to the chase. And when it's over, this guy pushes the hair out of his eyes and goes crazy when he sees you. Just make sure that he doesn't still see your face if he's married someone else.

But it's this guy who'll get you in the end. He's been waiting in the hall.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Back when you walked into the room: