Older Than The Oldies

According to Wikipedia, my go-to online information resource, Music is the arrangement of sound to create some combination of form, harmony, melody, rhythm, or otherwise expressive content. Music is generally agreed to be a cultural universal that is present in all human societies.

Music has been a huge, integral part of my life for as long as I can remember. Despite being held after sixth grade music class for singing off key. Despite being told, to this day, that I clap at least four notes out of sync with the rest of the audience. Despite being as tone-deaf as a lamp post. Music still moves me. Music still heals me. Music still soothes this savage beast.

Countless studies have been conducted regarding the therapeutic benefits of music. Surgery patients who listened to music experienced less pain before, during, and after surgery and required less pain medication. People who were dealing with a great loss or were otherwise deeply depressed found comfort in listening to sad music. A 2013 study, posted in the Journal of Positive Psychology stated that people who listened to upbeat music boosted their overall attitude in a matter of weeks.

I can attest to the many benefits of listening to music – especially listening to sad songs when I am sad. Granted Judy gets a bit concerned when she finds me listening to John Prine songs for more than twenty minutes, but sometimes shedding a few tears – okay, maybe a bucket full – helps wash away the blues.

However, I am not so sure about that upbeat music premise. I kinda think that after listening to Don’t Worry, Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin three or four times, much like van Gogh, I would chop off an ear or two. Just kidding – I think.

Anyway, I digress. Being born in the early fifties and married in the late sixties, I grew up with the oldies – the only music truly deserving the moniker of “the oldies.” Neil Sedaka, Buddy Holly, Ricky Nelson, Roy Orbison, The Beach Boys, Paul Revere and the Raiders, The Drifters, Otis Redding. And the list goes on and on.

And yes, I remember the British Invasion – though I never screamed or swooned – and quite honestly I preferred The Monkeys moreover The Beatles. And yes, I remember watching Elis Presley’s 1968 televised Comeback Special while talking to Judy – my then girlfriend, now wife – on the telephone (land line, not cell).

Once again, I digress. As Judy and I grew older the oldies station was always the preferred radio station – though at some point, Judy did indeed venture into the dark side and began listening to a country station from time to time.

Vinyl records and eight-track tapes. The analog days. Music before the compact disc and Napster (the first streaming service) were invented. Music that took you back to your teenage years. Music that took you back to a time of innocence and wonder.

Whenever we moved from place to place, town to town, there was always a local oldies station to take us back to those good old days. Oh, Carol, Peggy Sue, Hello Mary Lou Goodbye Heart, Pretty Woman, Surfin’ Safari, Kicks, Save The Last Dance For Me, (Sittin’ On) The Dock Of The Bay. Once again, the list goes on and on.

That said, something weird happened with our last move – the one from the Midwest to the Southwest. Not sure if was a change of location or a change of seasons – mine, not mother natures.

It used to be that the tagline for whatever oldies station that we were listening to was “music from the fifties and sixties.” That is until the discovery of our most recent oldies station – 101 Gold. Seems like with a name like that, they would most certainly be well attuned to the oldies. But sad to say – their tagline was “music from the seventies and eighties and more” which was recently changed to “the classics.”

I guess “the classics” is open to personal interpretation. Some might say that “the classics” refers to Beethoven and Chopin. Some might say that “the classics” refers to Nirvana and Justine Bieber. Nope, nope, and NOPE.

In an earlier post I wrote that it was “weird being the same age as old people.” Apparently an unanticipated side-effect of being as old as old people is that you are also officially older than “the oldies.”  At least the oldies that the oldies radio station plays when they play the oldies.

Oh dear, where are Neil Diamond and Carol King when you need them? Oh well, hand me down my walking cane. And yes, pass me the bottle of Geritol. And please, pour me another glass of prune juice.