May 26, 2009 Earworm

Due to poor planning on my part, Tuesday is a three for one. The three up for comment have absolutely nothing to do with each other except that, in my mind, they all are linked to my father for one reason or another. Having spent ten days in close quarters with him, it's no wonder that they've been fresh in my mind.

First, the kind of repugnant "Hot Child In The City" by Nick Gilder, a record that was just beginning its 31(!) weeks on the chart as my eight year estrangement from my dad ended. Over a rather sparse, and quite nifty, arrangement, Gilder's lyrics were just empty enough to allow the listener to fill in the blanks of their own fantasy - the boys with the "slut" down the block, the girls searching for their own sexual identity - and to suggest that the author's own understanding of women was gained through Penthouse Forum and evenings observing from a lonely corner of a fern bar while breathing through his mouth. "Hot Child In The City" could have only been a number one record in the seventies, at a time when everyone was okay 'cause you were okay. Nowadays, Chris Hansen would be at the door once the demo cut. And, as we learn during the bridge, it would be not a moment too soon.

Second, the beautiful, if not deceptive, 1967's "Summer Rain" by Johnny Rivers which must have been left for dead by the Baltimore oldies stations on which I was raised because, prior to discovering a copy whilst bin diving in the 25 cent per copy pile in 1978 - just as "Hot Child In The City" was finally on the wane, I'd never heard it. Jim Hendrick's lyric suggests domestic bliss at it's finest on the surface but what's with the constant recollection of the summer that just ended? I've never seen any explanation from the songwriter or its singer but I've always felt that Johnny's quite surprised to find himself where he ended up and quite unsure of how he feels about it.

Third, the stupendous "Ball Of Fire" by Tommy James and The Shondells, their last top twenty hit, a fine way to close out 1969, and a tumultuous decade. It is here that Tommy's music began to incorporate his spiritual leanings as he pleads with the listener to look beyond everything that is slipping through their fingers to what is always with us. "Ball Of Fire" has been in my life for as long as I can remember but, perhaps due to the crumbling second marriages of both my parents, it became a particular source of comfort during 1978 and my longing for any sense of normalcy. It would also jump back into my heavy rotation starting September 11, 2001 when it showed up on an unmarked cassette tape found under my car seat that day, its second verse and the unfortunate timing sending shivers down my spine as I drove home to the safest place I could envision.

After writing all of this, I realize that all three of these records are, to me, about longing. Hmmmm... thanks for the session; how much do I owe you?