How many of you remember holding one of these radios up to your ear as you strolled your neighborhood on a warm summer's evening? Or propped it up on your beach blanket as the hits of that day competed with the roar of the waves for your attention?
Or simply brings you back to summers past with memories triggered by a particular song? We all have them. You hear one of those tunes today and you are instantly transported to a time where you remember exactly what you were doing to that vintage soundtrack.
Suddenly, you're young again.
Yep, those were the songs of our summers. And here are some of mine.
For instance...
Surf City by Jan & Dean: I was on a beach blanket with a pail and a shovel. At Glen Island Beach in New Rochelle or, if we were slumming it, "Horseshit Beach" in the Bronx. I grew up with a lot of music in my life as my mom regularly listened to Top 40 radio. WABC and WMCA in New York. She'd even go out and buy the latest 45 rpm hits for our then-non-stereo record player. The ones where you had to put the little cookie in the hole so 45s could play on a 33 rpm player.
Surf City was playing from the transistor radio and I wondered about this beach that Jan & Dean were singing about. I'd ask my mother where that was. She told me California and it was someplace so far away that I'd probably never see it. Uh-huh.
Sukiyaki by Kyu Sakamoto: This was a big summer hit and I recall my mom doing the dishes and singing along. Except it was in Japanese. I asked her if she could speak that language. Once again, I'm told that I ask too many questions.
Oddly enough, the singer of this one-hit wonder died tragically in a plane crash in the mid 80s. But, to this day, I remember my mother doing a duet in Japanese.
On Top of Spaghetti by Tom Glazer and the Do-Re-Mi Children's Chorus: This was one of those stupid novelty songs that I remember singing with all my chums in the neighborhood. Except the song itself was ridiculous.
On top of spaghetti, All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball,
When somebody sneezed.
It rolled off the table,
And on to the floor,
And then my poor meatball,
Rolled out of the door.
It rolled in the garden,
And under a bush,
And then my poor meatball,
Was nothing but mush.
The mush was as tasty
As tasty could be,
And then the next summer,
It grew into a tree.
The tree was all covered,
All covered with moss,
And on it grew meatballs,
And tomato sauce.
So if you eat spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
Hold on to your meatball,
Whenever you sneeze.
It's brilliant stuff if you're six years old. But, as soon as you hit seven, the mere mention of this tune makes you want to put a revolver to your right temple.
I recall running around the house with this tune emanating from my lips at a high decibel. My grandmother obviously didn't care for the song herself.
"Go sing elsewhere."
Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport by Rolf Harris: For some mystical reason, I remember my childhood pal, Leo, being particularly enamored by this little Australian ditty. Another tune with lyrics that we would recite, even though they made little sense. It's nothing but several stanzas yakking about wallabees, koalas, and didgeridoos or whatever the hell they are.
Our interest was piqued, however, by the end of the song.
Tan me hide when I'm dead, Fred.
We would put the emphasis on the word "Fred" since there was another kid in the neighborhood with the same name. But, then, we'd move on to the delicious ending.
We tanned his hide when he died, Clyde, and that's it hanging on the shed.
Ridiculous. But it gave us something to do in between stick ball games.
My Boy Lollipop by Willie Small: Everytime I would sing along with this nonsense in the house, my father would get angry.
"Stop singing about some boy."
Oh.
The Little Old Lady from Pasadena by Jan & Dean: Another beach ditty that had me thinking about other coasts. Where's Pasadena, Mom?
"California and you'll probably never get there."
My parents didn't realize at the time just how small-minded they were.
A Hard Day's Night by the Beatles: When this album came out one summer, the kids up the block played it endlessly on our front stoops. Over and over and over again. We wanted to be completely enveloped in the music because the movie would be playing soon at the Loews Mount Vernon theater. I recall going there for the very first showing on the very first day. Unfortunately, the full pre-indoctrination into all the songs went for naught. Because none of us could hear nothing that day but the wails and screams from every ten-year-old girl in town.
A Walk in the Black Forest by Horst Jankowski: Summer car trips with the parents found a completely different soundtrack playing on the car radio. Dad was in control. Out went Mom's favorite radio stations. In our family Buick sedan, the tunes we heard all came from WNEW-AM. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Nat King Cole.
This particular record, however, still resonates with me to this day. I can vividly recall the very first time I heard it. Dad was driving us to a Met game. The car windows were rolled down so a fresh breeze negated the humidity of the evening. My excitement level was naturally at a high. Suddenly, looming up in the distance over the Van Wyck Expressway, I saw my beloved Shea Stadium.
And, from the radio, these haunting sounds...
To be continued.
Dinner last night: Beef with broccoli/honey walnut shrimp at Panda Inn.
On top of spaghetti, All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball,
When somebody sneezed.
It rolled off the table,
And on to the floor,
And then my poor meatball,
Rolled out of the door.
It rolled in the garden,
And under a bush,
And then my poor meatball,
Was nothing but mush.
The mush was as tasty
As tasty could be,
And then the next summer,
It grew into a tree.
The tree was all covered,
All covered with moss,
And on it grew meatballs,
And tomato sauce.
So if you eat spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
Hold on to your meatball,
Whenever you sneeze.
It's brilliant stuff if you're six years old. But, as soon as you hit seven, the mere mention of this tune makes you want to put a revolver to your right temple.
I recall running around the house with this tune emanating from my lips at a high decibel. My grandmother obviously didn't care for the song herself.
"Go sing elsewhere."
Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport by Rolf Harris: For some mystical reason, I remember my childhood pal, Leo, being particularly enamored by this little Australian ditty. Another tune with lyrics that we would recite, even though they made little sense. It's nothing but several stanzas yakking about wallabees, koalas, and didgeridoos or whatever the hell they are.
Our interest was piqued, however, by the end of the song.
Tan me hide when I'm dead, Fred.
We would put the emphasis on the word "Fred" since there was another kid in the neighborhood with the same name. But, then, we'd move on to the delicious ending.
We tanned his hide when he died, Clyde, and that's it hanging on the shed.
Ridiculous. But it gave us something to do in between stick ball games.
My Boy Lollipop by Willie Small: Everytime I would sing along with this nonsense in the house, my father would get angry.
"Stop singing about some boy."
Oh.
The Little Old Lady from Pasadena by Jan & Dean: Another beach ditty that had me thinking about other coasts. Where's Pasadena, Mom?
"California and you'll probably never get there."
My parents didn't realize at the time just how small-minded they were.
A Hard Day's Night by the Beatles: When this album came out one summer, the kids up the block played it endlessly on our front stoops. Over and over and over again. We wanted to be completely enveloped in the music because the movie would be playing soon at the Loews Mount Vernon theater. I recall going there for the very first showing on the very first day. Unfortunately, the full pre-indoctrination into all the songs went for naught. Because none of us could hear nothing that day but the wails and screams from every ten-year-old girl in town.
A Walk in the Black Forest by Horst Jankowski: Summer car trips with the parents found a completely different soundtrack playing on the car radio. Dad was in control. Out went Mom's favorite radio stations. In our family Buick sedan, the tunes we heard all came from WNEW-AM. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Nat King Cole.
This particular record, however, still resonates with me to this day. I can vividly recall the very first time I heard it. Dad was driving us to a Met game. The car windows were rolled down so a fresh breeze negated the humidity of the evening. My excitement level was naturally at a high. Suddenly, looming up in the distance over the Van Wyck Expressway, I saw my beloved Shea Stadium.
And, from the radio, these haunting sounds...
To be continued.
Dinner last night: Beef with broccoli/honey walnut shrimp at Panda Inn.
3 comments:
I hope you snuck your transistor into bed for lights-out listening. I did.
From the Indies to the Andes in his undies
And the only thing he ate was chocolate sundaes
It was a very, very funny thing to see.
We used to drive our mother nuts playing that record again and again and agian
Summer of 1963 was when I was given a transitor radio for my birthday and music instantly became a charged outlet that resonated with the emerging inner me. Just so happened that in a neighborhood full of boomed babies we were all riding the same tidal way. Tie me Kangaroo down was a favorite of mine. The Japanese song embedded in today's blog must have been A-bombed from my memory because I have no clue to what it is. Surf music seemed so dreamy and fun.
Did your parents have that album Black Forest?
15avebud
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