Under a Red Roof

Old World New World

January 29, 2009 in Listening, Remembering by Colleen | 3 comments

That’s the name of a stellar INXS song, from my favorite album Shabooh Shoobah. The awesome and, quite sadly, departed too soon, Michael Hutchence sings: “Old world, new world, I know nothing, but I keep listening.” Just a little aside here, too, INXS was my first concert at Red Rocks, and it did not disappoint.

Anyway, I’ve had the song and the sentiment stuck in my head ever since I started seeing people from much younger days on Facebook, for some it has been almost twenty years! I sit in wild wonder at all that I do and don’t know about their lives. It is both strange and wonderful, to see long lost faces and know where everyone is and what they’re doing.

Take these photos. This is Rob, the Batman fan formerly known as Bob. We met in high school, but neither of us has any recollection how it happened. There are plenty of other clearer memories, however, like opening day of Batman (the occasion for cooking a steak at my house), the opening of the Super Saver Cinema (Rob, do you remember what we saw?), and a night at the drive-in to see the Gubernator in Total Recall where I promptly fell asleep (that’s our giant bag of popcorn I’m holding).

As luck would have it, Rob found me just last week, and, even luckier, was in Portland on business on Monday, so the hubster and I met him at the Kennedy School for dinner. It was a grand evening of Gregory getting to know Rob while reminiscing for hours over cocktails and yummy food. We also reveled in the fact that it seemed as though no time had passed. That is friendship. Thank you, Facebook, for this lovely reunion, and Rob, see you next time you’re in town!

One more time, with jazz hands!

Sounds Like Fall

October 17, 2008 in Listening, Remembering, Spotlighting by Colleen | 1 comment

I had some friends over last night and this was one of our musical selections. It is such a great soundtrack for fall, though I don’t quite know why I make this association. Which reminds me of a funny story.

When I was in high school and college, I listened to a lot of Van Morrison, because, well, that is what one does isn’t it? Golly, he was everywhere I went back then. Anyway, there is this song, “Jackie Wilson Said,” one that I always associated with Christmas. I was with my friend Mitch and we were singing along to it, and I mentioned that fact to him, when suddenly the answer came. He smiled and said, “It wouldn’t be that would it?” Sure enough, it was, “ding-a-ling-a-ling…” I just about peed my pants with laughter. Darn Christmas bells hiding in plain sight like that.

So there may be something that I’m missing with The Hour of Bewilderbeast, but here’s what I do know. The CD is nice and long (no feeling cheated – I paid that much for thirty minutes?!) and, musically, it goes all over the map. There are some ethereal themes, rockin’ tunes, quirky sounds (think underwater), and down right sweet lyrics. If you are a fan of the film About a Boy (Hugh Grant’s best, I think), this is the man in charge of that sound track. Good listening!

A Moment of Forever

September 5, 2008 in Inspiring, Listening, Spotlighting, Watching by Colleen | 4 comments

Sometimes it is really difficult for me to put my feelings into words because they feel so inadequate or they just seem silly, and in this case, both. I do not tend to get starry eyed about celebrities. Yes, I do find them interesting, as I do all people, and occasionally get the gossip via magazines, but I know that, ultimately we are all human in the end. We all eat, sleep, and go to the bathroom every day.

One exception to this rule is this fella here. Good golly, Gregory and I were so darned excited to see him last week at the Oregon State Fair. I mean, the guy’s done so much – Farm Aid, Bio-Fuel, and all that singing! When we first arrived and perused the various sites, we’d look at each other and ask, “Do you think he’s here?” Then, after we’d seen the Honeysuckle Rose and knew he was, indeed, at the Fair, we wondered aloud, “What do you think he’s doing now?” And then, when we finally got to take our seats and his roadie brought out Trigger, we just about burst. “Willie Nelson is back stage and he’s gonna sing – for us!”

Well, my friends, he did not disappoint. The man, who is seventy-five, played for an hour and forty-five minutes without stopping. When the band played “Bloody Mary Morning,” I thought old Trigger might break at the seams. Willie was strumming so wildly, and me, right there with him, whoopin’ and hollerin’, hands drumming on my thighs, feet stomping to the pulsing beat. Hot damn, he is good! Sometimes, he didn’t even finish a song before starting the melody for another. The man was on fire.

He played old favorites, like “Whiskey River,” “Crazy, ” and “On the Road Again,” and new songs, like “You Don’t Think I’m Funny Anymore,” and “Over You Again.” Of course he played “Georgia,” and of course, I cried, but sweetly, because the night was so magical there in Salem. Big clouds threatened us and a cool breeze blew, but the sky turned starry, and the people were so kind, happy as clams to be in the presence of this sweet, generous, and funny man. Oh Willie, it was a delight to spend a “Moment of Forever” with you.

Turn It Up

June 22, 2008 in Listening by Colleen | Permalink

Why is it that when we hear a song that we like, we turn up?

A while back, Greg and I were shuffling some songs on our I-Pod when “Kashmir” from Led Zeppelin came on. I jumped out of my chair, dashed to the volume control and turned it way up, even though I could hear it perfectly well before.

Maybe hearing the song is only the tip of the iceberg, the more senses we involve the better. We want our ears full, as well as feeling it vibrating in our bellies. Perhaps this is akin to smelling something delicious just before popping it into the mouth for a fantastical flavor explosion.

I’m just wondering…

Over and Over

June 5, 2008 in Listening, Remembering by Colleen | Permalink

When I was a kid, and my dad or brother would buy a new album, they would play it over and over again, driving me nuts, wishing I could yell “fire!”, or turn off the power to get it to stop, but realizing that even if I did, the effect would last but a minute before the truth was discovered. So, unless I wanted to go to the park, which, generally, I didn’t, there was no escaping it (until I bought my car – sweet freedom!). The music came into my bedroom, the bathroom, upstairs, and even outside on warm days, as we Sohns are not shy about volume in voice or otherwise. I was, as they say, surrounded, no choice but to surrender.

I just could not fathom why anyone would want to hear something, even if it was good, so many times. All that repetition just made me crabby and desperate for industrial strength ear plugs.

That was then. Now I get it. Thanks first to rediscovering Astral Weeks by Van Morrison about five years ago and to Sam Beam, of Iron and Wine, I really get it.

An aside for the G-Man. When we lived in Denver, they would sometimes show the fans outside McNichols Arena (a.k.a. Big Mac – now gone) after a concert on a slow news night. On one such night after Van played, a woman who had likely partaken of some illicit substance, screamed, “Van Morrison is pure love!” As a result, neither one of us can say his name without adding that as well. Good times.

I am digressing. I do that. Anyhoo, I got a taste of the repetition with Mr. Pure Love, and then came to a full understanding with Iron and Wine. This is rock steady, keep on wiggling in my chair, singing softly along kind of music. I love to listen to Sam Beam’s gentle voice when Gregory and I play cards. More often, as my friend Sarah will attest, this is sewing music. It’s just so perfectly suited to stitching.

I put one cd on, and as soon as it is over, the next. I can do this on a loop for hours, never ever growing tired, just stitching along, but often sitting in silent amazement when a disc is over. How could that be? Where did the time go? Wasn’t I just singing “Sunset Soon Forgotten”? Golly, that’s only the fourth song.

With Van Morrison (pure love!) and Iron and Wine, it is like they whisper the lyrics in my ear, and while I hear them and whisper back, I dream of myself and my place within the songs, in fields, under trees, peering through a crack in the door. What can I say? Magic.