Debbie Harry rises above the hammering and talk-radio outside my house. It’s good friends, it’s very good. Ear-candy with an edge from eye-candy with an attitude.
“Parallel Lines” was the greatest things my father ever brought home; better even than lamajeun from the Armenian bakery. On a drive home from work, he heard “Heart of Glass” and was enraptured. He sang the song for me and asked if I knew it. Tried to sing it anyway; mostly he la-la-laed and hummed as well as he could. I was twelve, and had neither a radio nor any idea of what I wanted to hear; I was useless.
I’ve always imagined that Daddy spent the next few days humming to record-store employees until someone could help him. n He was a born performer, and could probably have worked up the high-notes for the chorus. One way or another, that album was on our turntable by the end of the week.
Did you ever see that cover? Pretty girl, starlet blond hair dyed perfectly imperfectly over dark roots and ends, strappy white dress. Arms akimbo, she stands over black and white stripes flanked by men in black. Everything is black, white and red. No girl in my class had ever seen anything like this.
My father loved his music one song at a time. If he found a song he liked, he played it over and over. Once the song was over, he was right at the turntable to re-play it. If anyone actually could wear out the grooves on a record, my father could.
Me?; I seized what chances I could to play the whole record, start to finish. I lay on the floor of the study half-reading and ignoring whatever Math was due in the morning. Parallel Lines was not the siren song that lead me into the realm of tweenie underachiever, everybody travels there sometimes; it was just part of the soundtrack.
What does Debbie sing these days; Jazz? Torch-songs?; my father would have approved. Daddy loved Linda Ronstant too, and never more than when she worked with Nelson Riddle.
Mattel has made a Debbie Harry Barbie dolls. Thanks to a link posted on Facebook by a friend of mine, I’ve seen this doll. Not right, it’s just not right. Mattel made a decent job of the hair, but they’ve dressed her in neon pink. If you ask me, she needs that white dress.
After listening to Parallel Lines twice, I’ve moved on to Bob Marley. A big Thank You to the builders outside my window. They’ve reminded me that loud music can be the best way to be alone.
“Parallel Lines” was the greatest things my father ever brought home; better even than lamajeun from the Armenian bakery. On a drive home from work, he heard “Heart of Glass” and was enraptured. He sang the song for me and asked if I knew it. Tried to sing it anyway; mostly he la-la-laed and hummed as well as he could. I was twelve, and had neither a radio nor any idea of what I wanted to hear; I was useless.
I’ve always imagined that Daddy spent the next few days humming to record-store employees until someone could help him. n He was a born performer, and could probably have worked up the high-notes for the chorus. One way or another, that album was on our turntable by the end of the week.
Did you ever see that cover? Pretty girl, starlet blond hair dyed perfectly imperfectly over dark roots and ends, strappy white dress. Arms akimbo, she stands over black and white stripes flanked by men in black. Everything is black, white and red. No girl in my class had ever seen anything like this.
My father loved his music one song at a time. If he found a song he liked, he played it over and over. Once the song was over, he was right at the turntable to re-play it. If anyone actually could wear out the grooves on a record, my father could.
Me?; I seized what chances I could to play the whole record, start to finish. I lay on the floor of the study half-reading and ignoring whatever Math was due in the morning. Parallel Lines was not the siren song that lead me into the realm of tweenie underachiever, everybody travels there sometimes; it was just part of the soundtrack.
What does Debbie sing these days; Jazz? Torch-songs?; my father would have approved. Daddy loved Linda Ronstant too, and never more than when she worked with Nelson Riddle.
Mattel has made a Debbie Harry Barbie dolls. Thanks to a link posted on Facebook by a friend of mine, I’ve seen this doll. Not right, it’s just not right. Mattel made a decent job of the hair, but they’ve dressed her in neon pink. If you ask me, she needs that white dress.
After listening to Parallel Lines twice, I’ve moved on to Bob Marley. A big Thank You to the builders outside my window. They’ve reminded me that loud music can be the best way to be alone.
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Posted by: オテモヤン | March 27, 2010 at 05:55 PM