After writing my previous post at the beginning of this holiday weekend, I jumped in the car for a two-hour drive to my friend’s house. I still had loads of summer songs dancing in my head (as if I was going to continue the list and bore you all to death). I really just wanted to listen to them all and get pumped for the impending dance party. By the time I got to my destination, I was hoarse from singing along to my iPod and I don’t care how strange I looked to passersby. But while I was having a one-woman-karaoke-party in my car, I couldn’t help thinking about how much of an impact music has made on my life. I love it. I need it. That is, if I’m not watching TV.
My memories are surrounded by music, the songs that were playing are just as vivid as the images in my brain. I can see the view while sitting on my Dad’s shoulders at the Michael Jackson concert with the Jackson 5 in 1983, not being able to hear after seeing Kool & The Gang with my Mom and step father the following year, being subjected to my step father belting out his best falsetto along with his favorite Queen tape on road trips in our old Buick Riviera, the whole year my Dad was obsessed with and played The Phantom of the Opera soundtrack everywhere we went, and being embarrassed along with my sister when my Dad would pump his brakes along to the beat of Madonna’s first album at red lights. I wore out Paula Abdul’s Forever Your Girl tape almost instantly and was banned from watching her ‘Cold Hearted‘ video because it was too suggestive. I remember being invited by a friend to see Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, we sat in the front row, right next to his dressing room and I thought I was in love. You get the picture, I need to get to the point, I should probably save some memories for future posts.
During my car ride sing-along, Huey Lewis and the News popped up on my iPod. It brought me back to the days when my older sister, my two older cousins and I would secretly choreograph then perform routines for our parents after big family dinners. We’d lock everyone out of the living room so we could create some silly dance reminiscent of your typical 80s music video, complete with plastic sunglasses and cheesy synchronized moves. One of our showcases included The Heart of Rock and Roll, by Huey Lewis. With our footwork down we’d call for our audience. At the beginning you hear a heartbeat, which sets the tone for the rest of the song. We’d all be hiding behind the curtain. One-by-one we would spin around from behind the heavy, yellow and brown, woven drapes while miming the heartbeat over our chest. The rest is a blur, because I’m pretty sure I forgot a step, got embarrassed and ran away. The curse of being the youngest and most eager to impress, I suppose.
Maybe, in a few years, my nephew will start doing routines for his parents and me to Lady Gaga or something. That would be amazing.