Yes, that’s not a typo. The ridiculous memories that play themselves out on the stage of my mind oftentimes follow a kind of formal pattern delving deeper with every off-the-wall connection.
Oh, this: some strange mental wanderings led me down Mummery Lane today to. . . “The Moody Blues,” of all things.
Background: back in my “yout'” I was almost completely disinterested in Rock music, and in fact heard it as some sort of crap intruding into the background of my life, for the most part. Boring, predictable, poorly-conceived and executed, from what I heard. Junk “music” for the most part. YMMV, but that was my view as a youngster, and it’s mostly held through to today, except that, nowadays, the manufactured toxic pap that passes for Rock music is largely even less musical.
Now, note that “for the most part”. Every now and then an individual artist or group would do something interesting, musical, even good. Think “Chicago”. Some really interesting stuff there. But, “Moody Blues”?!? Yes. OK, so the vocals largely suck–their pitch matching, tonal quality, etc., were not all that great. They also had a problem common to a lot of Rock groups: “How do we end this song?” “I dunno. Let’s just fade it out, mmmK?” *sigh*
But crappy vocal production, lyrics that ranged from pedestrian to pompous to. . . interesting, and the all too common inability to find an end to an individual song aside, their albums were still musically interesting, mentally stimulating, enjoyable, not at all the same boring thing, again and again, with–maybe–some minor tempo variation thrown in. Maybe. Nope. The kind of things some Rock fans derided them for was a BIG plus in my ears.
*heh* I just realized I unconsciously mimicked the guitar part on one of the pieces from “On the Threshold of a Dream” in a piece I wrote back in 1994.
Sidebar: Summer of 1970, home from college, working summer job, etc. A fried and I would listen to Moody Blues albums in her parents’ living room and jawbone about what we heard. (“Friend” and “girl” not “girlfriend” although might have worked out differently in different circumstances.) When I went back to school in the Fall, her family moved and she moved with them (was living at home attending school). I had no idea where they’d moved and just kind of let the acquaintanceship/casual friendship go. Summer of 1971. Was touring with a group. After a concert in Caspar, Wyoming, who should approach me but the girl I’d known 1,500 miles away from Caspar. Ended up spending a few hours chatting away the night. Life just sometimes seems to be one coincidence after another, eh?