Archive for the ‘Mick Jagger’ Tag

Hearing The Who   1 comment

A mystery left unanswered for over 30 years has been cleared up. Finally! I have proof that I wasn’t crazy. But unfortunately it’s a satisfaction that will go unshared since I’m certain I’m the only one of the four of us who remembers that night. Sure, they probably remember the WHO concert but I’m sure they’ve long forgotten the lisp. Who am I fooling? I’m probably the only one who even remembered it the next day – or cared!

What I don’t remember is the exact year. Let’s settle for 1980-early something or other. The WHO Were appearing at the Oakland Coliseum and I went to see them with the man to whom I was married, and another couple. Husband and friend, being technology types, and other wife, being a nurse, all brought earplugs to use once the concert was underway.

“What are you nuts?” Yes, I’m sure that’s what I said.  “We’re here to see a group that bills itself as the loudest rock band in the world……

loudest band

 

………and you three are going to plug up your ears?!”

earplugs

 

Well, one of us didn’t.

We had great seats. Balcony? Loge? Mezzanine? Whatever they were called, they were upper left of the stage so I could down for a side view of Roger Daltrey as he kept up his non-stop marching steps and twirled and caught his microphone throughout the entire concert.

 

twirling mic

Sure Jagger has his moves ………

 

Mick

 

but it is my strongly-held opinion that Roger is overlooked when it comes to putting on a non-stop show. He may not prance and strut like a rooster, but he never stopped moving. And, to this day, no one has perfected the rock and roll scream like Roger Daltrey.

 

rock and roll scream

 

 

And ,as I said, I had a perfect seat to verify this. And the pyrotechnics that that culminated “Won’t Get Fooled Again” – A full sensory assault.

Ha! I thought, too bad these namby pambies with me aren’t getting their money’s worth.  

Later on the drive home, maybe I was tired or cranky, but I didn’t appreciate the joke the guys were playing on me, talking with a lisp, saying things like

“Did you thee the colorth in the thmoke after that exthplothion?” asked friend

“Stop talking like that!” I whined

“Thtop talking like what? What am I doing?” he asked.

“You’re talking with a lisp!”

Here’th the thtop thign where you need to turn,” advised husband who was serving as his navigator.

“You too, Cut it out!!!”

“Why are you so upset?” Other wife turned around to look at me in the back seat. “They’re not doing anything.”

“ They’re talking with those phony lisps. Don’t you hear them?”

They continued this way the entire ride home. I gave up, but I never forgot, and finally, last month, I discovered the guys were innocent after all.

 

Smart Planet is a newsletter I follow online at work. It often serves up material I can curate for our Twitter account. An interview with a woman named Katherine Bouton, who began losing her hearing at age 30, caught my eye although it had no application for work. I began reading, and there it was in black and white – the answer I’d been searching for all these years……

I understand that high-frequency sounds are the first victims of hearing loss and then comes the inability to hear the frequencies associated with speech.

Audiologists refer to the speech banana. This is the pattern on an audiogram that shows where speech sounds fall. If your hearing does not fall within the speech banana you’ll have trouble understanding speech, though you may hear it. Very few vowels or consonants fall in the low frequencies but in the high frequencies, 4000 to 8000 Hz, you find the consonants f, s, and th. So people with hearing loss in that area can’t distinguish between “fish” “fist” “fifth” or “fit.”

Finally, vindication was mine. I wasn’t hearing things, after all.

Hmm, I wasn’t hearing things?! I wasn’t hearing? What does this mean?????

I need time to think about this. But if you’d like to learn more about hearing loss. (No, I didn’t say my hearing loss, I just said hearing loss) you can read the entire article at http://www.smartplanet.com/blog/pure-genius/q-a-katherine-bouton-on-hearing-loss-and-its-hidden-causes/9743?tag=nl.e662&s_cid=e662&ttag=e662

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Where Have the Little Children Gone?   6 comments

My-my-my generation came of age in the 60’s and now we’re facing the realities of life in our 60’s. Everyone has their own moment when the mirror turns into a cruel tattler. For some it is the first gray hair(s). That was never a concern for me. I actually wish my hair were grayer. No, my mirror delivered the blow in the form of lines. Maybe I should rephrase that. Some people might think I am talking about cocaine.

A couple of years ago, my mirror pointed out that lines were appearing around my mouth. Years have come and gone, and still it taunts me. I think it has some kind of visual magnet embedded behind the glass because no matter what I may be doing – applying eye makeup, tweezing my eyebrows, fixing my hair – things that have nothing to do with the lower portion of my face –  my gaze ends up fixed on my mouth or chin.

I blame my big smile. I once read Mick Jagger used the same defense for his creases; to which Keith or someone else replied “No one is that friendly.” (Let me stop and point out that Mick has a few years on me.) But I’m straying far from my point, and yes, I do have a point here. Actually a very serious one.

Friday morning I was at work, scrolling through my company’s twitter account. Believe it or not, part of my job is to hang out on social media. As a result, I learned of the Connecticut tragedy before most people did. Twitter always gets there first.  When I saw  “Sandy Hook school on Lockdown.” I  thought they were talking about the Sandy Hook  that serves as the gateway to  the Jersey Shore.

Then, “Shots fired in Newtown, CT School.” Wow, I thought, I’ve heard of Newtown. I think that’s near Danbury.

Then the tweets started falling like snowflakes Oh my goodness I thought it’s an elementary school. When I saw that a teacher was shot in the foot. I began scrolling faster. Tweets about the incident were popping up like crazy, soon outnumbering all the other topics.

My eyes remained glued to my monitor but when I saw the words Kindergarten, and whole class missing, I had to get up and share it with a friend in across the hall.  It would be hours before I or anyone else would learn just how tragic this was.

As long as I was up and it was lunch time, I decided to go out for a walk. My lunchtime walks are  usually dual-purpose – exercise and meditation.  I’m not sure what you’d call this.

As I walked I tried to digest the fact that these were very young children, of the age I’d taught when I was a teacher.  Mass shootings are horrific no matter what the age of the victims but there was something about lives being taken when they’d barely ventured out into the world that filled me with survivor’s guilt. Oddly enough my thoughts went to my creased chin.

These little six and seven year olds, they’re gone. They’ll never have lines on their face. All of a sudden I saw my lines as a privilege. Not everyone is blessed with a long life, one filled with enough experiences to earn those lines. Good experiences …….

……as well as bad.

I thought of those periods  I never thought I’d get through; the year I taught the fourth grade from hell— the horrendous year of watching my brother succumb to cancer——  broken relationships and betrayals

In the light of the afternoon sun, I began to cherish these incidents for the strength they showed me I possessed;  the strength it took to endure, and come out the other side, wiser and stronger, and yes, still retaining my sanity. These children would never get to experience any of them.

But then, maybe they didn’t need to. Maybe this brief lifetime had showed them all they’d come  to learn, all they’d come to accomplish, and now God had taken them back.

I am no longer what I’d call a conventionally religious person, but a nebulous image came to me in that moment, only to re-appear a couple of days later, brighter and more firmly outlined. It was Sunday night, I was watching President Obama speak in  televised interfaith service in Newtown. He was speaking of the innocence of those twenty children.

The image sprung to life in full color and I remembered where I’d seen it – on an easel in the front of my own  kindergarten classroom nearly sixty years ago, when I was their age.

Jesus

One Word Can Make A Big Difference   6 comments

I was driving south through Florida last month, surfing the radio stations and came  upon a station that covered the widest range of classic rock I’ve ever heard. However, their catch phrase, “we play the songs you know every word to.” is a bold-faced lie.  Are they denying the fact that most singers are graduates of The Bob Dylan School of Diction?

Singers like Mick Jagger, Tom Petty, and Stevie Nicks. Nobody knows every word of a rock song. How can you know what you can’t understand?

The station is very fortunate that I cannot recall their call letters because if I did I just might have reported them to the FCC. Why? Because it’s dangerous to propagate false confidence. When you’re sure you know the words of a song you have no hesitation singing aloud.  And that just might lead to a rude awakening.

Take Jack S, a guy I knew at the Jersey Shore. It was 1969 and he had heard this great song by the Beatles.

He just had to sing it for everyone, “Hey Dude!”

And then there was Mrs. S, the mother of a friend and no relation to Jack S. It was 1974 and Disco was in full swing.

She loved to sing the anthem of the dance floor, “Do the Hot Dog.”

Speaking of disco, Eddie, the Best man at my wedding, couldn’t understand the story behind one of the songs from Saturday Night Fever. There’s John Travolta dancing under the disco ball with his sometimes dance partner, a woman with a full head of disco hair.

So why he wanted to know, were the Bee Gees  singing

“Bald -headed woman, Bald-headed woman to me.”

And since people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,   I’ll fess up. I recently heard my favorite Bruce Springsteen song, Born to Run, delivered directly into my head via an  iPod  I was on the tread mill, lip synching along until Bruce and we came to the part where we’re  exhorting Wendy to come with him, flee New Jersey, start a new life and I nearly came to a halt. What? What was he saying? Tramps?  “Tramps like us, Baby we were  born to run.”   You mean it’s not champs? Champs are born to run, not tramps!

Maybe I’ll write my own song, about the dude who meets a bald headed lady and they dance the hot dog and when they’re through, they jump on a freight car with all the other champs who were born to run, and they’ll all be wearing their gold medals and blue ribbons.

OK, it’s your turn. What songs did you think you knew? Use the comment section to share. Nobody will laugh, I promise.

A Very Sirius Problem   2 comments

A problem popped up the moment I drove my new car off the lot. But it’s only temporary. Come August it will vanish into thin air. How can I be so certain? Because that’s when my 90-day free trial subscription to satellite radio will expire.

Having three free months of free satellite radio is a heavy load to bear. So many stations, so little time. Did I mention it’s free?

Free Day One

On the Lot

I listen politely as my sales person goes over the small details she thinks are important – the location of the gas tank lock release, how to fold down the back seats, or since this is my first key-less entry car, which buttons to push on the little magic twanger. But within this polite shell, an impatient toe-tapping control freak grips the steering wheel biding my time until I can drive off the lot and set  my stations.

On the Way to Work

All six FM stations set and I haven’t even reached the entrance ramp to the parkway. An all-time record. Thank goodness for red lights. But this is only a dry run.  I have Sirius research to do.

Lunch-time

I unfold the map-like Sirius XM brochure and lay it out on my desk. 170 channels. Be still, my heart.  90 days? Uh-oh. Can I get my money’s worth? (so to speak)? Let’s see

Live Sports? every MLB game, Is Detroit included? I would like to hear Tigers’ games. But then, no, I’m not going to be in the car for every game and certainly not for the whole two hour stretch. It’s not worthy of a  pre-set. I can listen as needed. And if I don’t need baseball, I certainly don’t need every NHL, NFL,NBA or college sports game.

Exclusive Entertainment ? Hmm what’s this?

  • Howard Stern? He gave me enough boiling-over blood pressure when he was on AM. No thanks
  • Oprah? I’m probably the only person  who never even saw one Oprah!, so if I never saw her, why should I listen. No thanks
  • Martha Stewart? Hmm, I like Martha. She knows the names of the most esoteric cooking utensils you never knew existed, let alone thought you needed. If Martha’s going to show me how to use little thingy to get the meat out of the walnut after I crack it open, I should be seeing, not listening. No thanks

With Live Sports and Exclusive Entertainment off my list I’m breathing a bit easier. Let’s see.

World-class News plus Local Traffic and Weather.

  • Nope, I like my news served on paper.
  • I like seeing those weather maps and graphics even if the meteorologist is standing in front of them.
  • And as for traffic. By the time a traffic snafu makes its way onto the radio I’m either already  in the middle of it, or it’s all cleared up.

Laugh-0ut- Loud Comedy. No, my singing out loud is enough to make people laugh

Commercial Free Music– Now that’s what I’m talking about. I fold back the rejected panels and flatten out the remaining sections on my desk.  I don’t like classical or country; Pass on dance/electronic. Christian?  Foreign language? No and No. That leaves Rock, Pop, and Jazz. I fold back, and out of sight, the pop and jazz sections. I don’t need any distractions

The Grateful Dead Channel? Pearl Jam Radio? E street RadioChannel Margaritaville? I love Bruce and Jimmy, and enjoy the Dead and the Jams but that’s like listening to albums.  I like the element of  surprise while I drive.

Oops my lunch hour is almost over. I grab the guide and run outside to the parking lot. Let’s see I guess I have to push this selector marked  XM. Okay, now for the stations.

Classic Vinyl, 60’s and 70’s Rock? Okay – button 1

Boneyard, Classic Hard Rock? Umm hmm! – button 2

Hair Nation, 80’s Hair Bands? Alllll Riiiiight!!!!! – button 3

Liquid Metal , Heavy Metal XL. What’s XL? I’ll try it – button 4

Soul Town, Classic Soul/Motown – that’s a good change of pace – button 5

The Joint, Reggae – Ya Mon! – button 6

I can hardly wait for the ride home!

 Free Day Five (Saturday – errand day)

I’m not sure if I’m making the most out of this free trial. I think it’s time to try new stations. As long as  I’m here in Kohl’s parking lot, let me get out that brochure

60’s on 6.

Oh, isn’t that cute, the peace symbol in the middle of the 0.  60’s pop hits with Cousin Brucie. Didn’t he die? Well, let’s give it a try.

‘70’s on 7.

You know, the 60’s were fun , but the 70’s, those were my glory days.

Wow look 80’s on 8.

My years in  San Jose.

90’s on 9.

Why not!

I like the soul and reggae.  I’ll keep them.Next stop Walmart.

Free Days Six – Thirteen

I love my commute.   Choose a decade and almost every song is a trip back in time.

  I Got you, Babe

1965

I’m in my freshman dorm. My room-mate, Regina and I are figuring out when it’s Sonny singing and when it’s Cher


Just the Way You are

 1979

The first dance at my wedding and the band leader is channeling Billy Joel

Start Me Up

1981

Oh my God, Mick Jagger, right there on the field below us.  We left the house at six to get up here to Candlestick Park. But snagging these seats make it all  worthwhile.

Tears in Heaven

1993

The dreaded call  at 2:20 AM.  My brother has surrendered to his cancer. As I fly home to NY, I look down through the billowing mounds of white blanketing the Rockies. Jim feels close by. Can heaven really be up in the clouds?  Synchronicity strikes via my Walkman and I hear Eric Clapton  in my ear. He’s wondering too.


Free Day 15.

“La-dee da dee da ..When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, ”  Oops here’s my exit.

This is the only Madonna song I like. Reminds me of my MTV midlife crisis. What a video…… and then there was the Super Bowl half time show this year ……when  that big guy in the  flowing cape rose up through the stage!  At first I thought it was that  Vogue editor guy   –   Andre something something.  But then I realized it was the guy from The Voice – Cee Jay? No, Cee Lo something………

 

………..Look at that police car! He’s  right on my tail………… Now he has his lights going and the siren whoop whooping. Me?

 

“Yes officer? ”

“You know you went through that Stop sign back at the corner, Ma’am.  Do you have a reason for that?”

“No, sir.”

I  do have reason, a Sirius one but I don’t think divulging it would further my case.