I’d like to personally thank the makers of the Guardian of the Galaxy movie for using a 1970’s soundtrack. This means I can drive around again with Redbone’s song Come And Get Your Love playing without having people look at me like I am an old man. Now, they can look at me like I’m an old man just because I’m in my early forties. One complaint, however, is that even though they seem to have cloned my standard road trip playlist for the past twenty years they left off the theme from the Rockford Files and One Toke Over The Line by Brewer and Shipley.
It’s funny, all that 70’s music I hated when I grew up first hearing it in the car because my mom would have to drive somewhere with the radio on. She did always like the current music of the day back then. Looking back, she was very hip to popular music. My dad seemed to be as well but it was his love for hard, guitar based rock that would pull me away from wanting to listen to the reverb heavy top 40 from the 70’s. At some point though, on my own, it went from a turn off to someone I sought out to listen to. Call it nostalgia if you will but I’ll just chalk it up to me cultivating a good, broad taste in music.
And here we are, about forty years later for most of these songs I see them getting a new appreciation. With that, I start to remember once again for the first time as I listen to them.
That’s one of the weird parts I’m learning about being clean and sober for about a year on after twenty something years of foggy chemical use, the fact that I suddenly will find myself standing, in my head, back ten, twenty, thirty years in the past, culturally.
The other morning, I had the David Lee Roth song Sensible Shoes wandering around my head. It’s a lackluster number from the early 90’s that everyone has either forgotten about or never heard of and I was humming it as if it was the first time I saw the video on MTV.
A couple of other weeks ago, I was suddenly struck with thinking about the plot of the movie Bad Medicine and forced myself to have to look it up online, finding myself remembering every scene as it reappeared from the mist in my mind. Curse you Steve Gutenberg and your stable of sub par comedies from the 80’s. So many of them were in heavy rotation on the movie channels in high school during the summer months that I have seen all of them at least a dozen times and forgotten them twice as many times. Something about those first years of actually finally getting cable TV and all the wasteland that accompanied it. All of the summer break entertainment.
Now, it’s 70’s AM station music. I don’t even notice it’s happening. I’m a child in the back seat of my parent’s silver Malibu overhearing music that I would later in my twenties be reintroduced to after watching Tarantino films.
Is this part of the price I have to pay from burning whole sections of my mind with drugs and alcohol instead of feeling and being aware? Do they all have to come back, randomly and one at a time, for me to revisit? I only ask because I’m aware of it happening, you know. I don’t really mind.
For me, the most satisfying part of posting this is that my spellchecker caught that I spelled Steve Gutenberg’s last name wrong but doesn’t know what the word reverb is.