Category Archives: Music

6. There’s No Place Like Home

Music,

Each year, first around Christmastime then maybe at Eastertime, I eagerly awaited the annual broadcast of The Wizard of Oz. Even before we had a color TV I loved this movie. I hid my eyes when the Wicked Witch of the West first appeared in the forest, cried when Dorothy had to say goodbye to her new friends, and laughed through my tears when she was safely home again. My dad used to make fun of my crying each year because, as he pointed out, I’d seen it enough times to know the ending.

When I was in elementary school most of the “walkers” went home for lunch. We had an hour to walk home, eat lunch and walk back. My dad sometimes came home for lunch too, and on one of those lunchtimes, my dad brought me a large, flat, square paper bag. Inside was the soundtrack to The Wizard of Oz. The album cover opened like a book, and inside were scenes from the movie. I may have misremembered the time of day Dad brought this gift, but I won’t ever misremember my feeling of joy and excitement. Now I could experience the Wizard of Oz every day of the year if I wanted to.

Each lunchtime after I got the record, I’d finish eating my toasted cheese sandwich and bowl of tomato soup and run into the living room to put the record on the turntable. I always began with the first side of the album and by the time that was over, it was time to head back to school, so I learned the songs and words to the first half of the Wizard of Oz by heart. Often the sun would shine through the large multi-paned window on the south side of the house and those days I pretended the sunshine on the golden carpet was the yellow brick road and I’d skip around the path until I was worn out.

To this day I remember all the words (that were on the album) up to the poppy field scene. I annoy friends and family by quoting from the movie and reciting the words when we watch it (which is rarely these days).

It was a pure act of love that my father brought this gift to me. He was not a fan of the movie and didn’t necessarily like the music, but he knew how much I did and knew how much it would mean to me. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, and luxuries like this were somewhat rare, especially for a middle-of-the-year for-no-particular-reason kind of gift.

5. Everything’s Coming up Woses

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I’d forgotten this brief obsession until, while watching the Academy Awards the other night, saw Jack Wild’s name and face in the montage of the people who’d died during the year. That I’d not heard about it shouldn’t have been surprising, but it was. And sad. After all, since I’d not seen him in anything since Oliver! (and maybe H.R. Pufnstuff), I expected him to still be the cute freckle-faced adolescent I had a minor crush on after David Henesy from Dark Shadows and before I’d discovered real guys were more fun than imaginary ones.

I don’t remember where or when I bought his album, Everything’s Coming up Roses, but I remember playing it a lot. I’d sing along with Jack, to the point of saying “woses” instead of “roses”. I wasn’t making fun of his missing R as much as delighting in that small idiosyncrasy of his.

I’ve kept this album, although when I transferred many of my vinyl albums to cd & mp3 format, I purposely set this one aside. I didn’t think I’d want to waste computer space, a cd or my time digitizing it. Not until now, a day about halfway between the academy awards ceremony and the first anniversary of his death.

He didn’t seem to do much in the way of entertainment between H. R. Pufnstuff, his few albums and his death. He was a heavy smoker and a heavy drinker and it is fairly certain that combination caused his eventual tongue and throat cancer. He had his larynx and tongue removed in 2002. This all certainly makes me reconsider having a second glass of wine with dinner these days.

Sorry for bringing our music discussion down a notch or three. I never said I had good taste in music.

4. The Kick Inside

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Flash forward to January 1979*. I’m student teaching and attending university in England and it seems like everyone in the college dorm is playing a record by a new female singer. At first I’m not so sure I like the music, but when I listen to the lyrics I find that I do. The musician tells a story with each of her songs, and her voice can do things I’d never heard. Plus, they tell me, she dances while she sings her incredible songs. I’m also told, by fellow American students, that she performed on Saturday Night Live the night after I left for England.

Of course I’m talking about Kate Bush. As soon as I return to the States I buy her album, The Kick Inside, and play it over and over again, listening to the words; hypnotized by the sounds. I force my friends and family to listen to her and we try to dissect the songs. What do they mean?

Of course we know what Wuthering Heights is about, but I was memorized by the title song, The Kick Inside. I suspected it was about sibling incest or suicide, but couldn’t imagine either, so looked for some other meaning in the lyrics.

The first verse was obviously about death. I remember looking up the word chintz and because it sounded so old fashioned, thought perhaps this was an old woman’s deathbed. She’d lived a long and happy life and was writing a note to a loved one (husband? child?) and saying she’d soon be with (a) God.

I’ve pulled down my lace and the chintz.
Oh, do you know you have the face of a genius?
I’ll send your love to Zeus.
Oh, by the time you read this,
I’ll be well in touch.

The second verse made it harder to fool myself. My first thought was that the kicking was an unborn baby, but that didn’t mesh with my old woman theory. Maybe the kicking was pains from death. Maybe she’s writing that note to her brother and not her husband or child. And the part about being under the quilt. Well, it was the olden days – they had to keep warm somehow.

I’m giving it all in a moment or two.
I’m giving it all in a moment, for you.
I’m giving it all, giving it, giving it.
This kicking here inside
Makes me leave you behind.
No more under the quilt
To keep you warm.
Your sister I was born.
You must lose me like an arrow,
Shot into the killer storm.

I’d deluded myself for years, loving this song, but not letting myself think what it could really be about. It wasn’t until I began researching for this post that I discovered that it was about sibling incest and suicide and an unborn baby. God bless the Internet.

I’ll write more about Kate Bush’s music and her influence on me in later posts. I go in and out of my obsession with her work. Currently I’m out, but once I listen to her stuff again, I’m sure to be back in.

*It’s possible I’d heard about Kate Bush earlier than January 1979 – in fact I’m almost sure of it, but my memories do not mesh with the dates. I thought I’d heard her in a 6th form break room at Benton Park Grammar School while visiting friends at that school, but the year she released The Kick Inside, I didn’t visit England until early December. Maybe I visited the school before their winter holiday break. Still a month earlier doesn’t make that much difference, I just like to get my memories straight.