Things are quiet here in blogland today - everyone is at Rhinebeck, or consoling themselves at their LYS if they can't be at Rhinebeck.
Perfect excuse for a non knitting/reading post!
Most women my age blame lots of things on their mothers - their weight, hair color, parenting skills, etc. But my mom really did me in.
She made me listen to Neil Diamond.
It started off innocently enough - she'd play his tapes (later CDs) in the car, sometimes at home on the weekends. It was then that the subliminal messages started. He'd sing "Sweet Caroline" and I'd hear "You know you love me, just admit it." He'd sing "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show" and I'd hear "Become one with the spangles, glitz and glitter."
Before I knew it, I could sing along to all of his records.
Thankfully high school came, and with it, rebellion. No more listening to mom and dad's music. I had a car, I had my own tunes! I had a job, I had money to buy the CDs I liked! Ha ha - I was the winner!
College followed much like high school, but since I lived in a different state I was even further from the musical stylings of the Jazz Singer. More points for me.
Post grad it started. I was in a music rut. I didn't care for most of the bands I listened to in high school. I got rid of those CDs. My personal views changed a lot, so I didn't care for most of the music I listened to in college. I got rid of those CDs.
I started dating The Man. He introduced me to even more great music. And what was hiding on those shelves? No, not Neil, but many of my long lost favorites from my childhood - the Beatles, Beach Boys, CSNY, and the Other Neil - dad's favorite. (We'll save that for another post, another day).
I got sucked back in. I programmed the oldies station on my car stereo. And one day, driving home from work, Sweet Caroline came on the radio, and before I knew it, I was singing along at the top of my lungs. "What am I doing?" I asked myself. "I can't tell anyone about this."
Gradually, the secret came out. One of the girls I worked with admitted that she had a secret crush on Neil, and I admitted mine too. And I finally admitted it to The Man, he said - "My mom loves him too. He's alright."
WHAT? My secret, cheesy love affair with Mr. Spangle himself was not only NOT mocked by my significant other (who is a self-proclaimed music snob), but accepted! This was a whole new ball game.
After much pestering of my mother, she made me a CD containing all of her favorite Neil songs, and I received it for Christmas. It spent months in my car CD player. Wheneve I had a hard day, or was depressed about something, there was Neil with his pop music to brighten my day.
A few months ago we found out he was coming to town. I half-jokingly told mom she could come to visit and go to the show with my MIL and I. She ended up deciding not to, and was then angered to find out that The Man had purchaed MIL and I tickets to the show for our birthdays.
It was a second night sold out show last night. We were packed in like sardines - but it was great. I would have rather been on the floor (more energy, more singing along), but our nosebleed seats still allowed us to see the glory of Neil.
He sang many of my favorites - America, Sweet Caroline, Cracklin' Rosie, Forever in Blue Jeans, Beautiful Noise. Love on the Rocks. Play Me, Shilo, Thank the Lord for the nighttime, Brother Love's, Cherry Cherry, Holly Holy, I'm a Believer, I Am I Said, Kentucky Woman, You Got to Me, and You Don't Bring me Flowers.
Sadly, he didn't play these that I like - Heartlight, Hello Again, If you Know What I Mean, Solitary Man, Song Sung Blue and Yesterday's Songs. But I guess you can't fit it all into 2 hours.
The Man got a lovely voice mail of everyone singing Sweet Caroline, and mom got a phone call during You Don't Bring me Flowers.
Thanks mom, for my love for Neil.
You and my uncle both. :) Actually, though I might never admit it to my mom, who hates Neil D. (but loves Neil Y.) I actually sing along to a few songs as well. Especially Sweet Caroline. But I'm abviously nowhere near the expert that you are!ReplyDelete