Back In ’75

November 22nd, 2017

Here are the top ten albums from the Billboard 200 released on November 22, 1975, forty-two years ago today:

Rock of the Westies by Elton John
Windsong by John Denver
Red Octopus by Jefferson Starship
Prisoner In Disguise by Linda Ronstadt
Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd
Still Crazy After All These Years by Paul Simon
Wind On The Water by David Crosby & Graham Nash
Born To Run by Bruce Springsteen
The Who By Numbers by the Who
Breakaway by Art Garfunkel

Over the years, seven of those albums ended up in the vinyl stacks; the only three that didn’t were the albums by John Denver, by the Who, and by David Crosby and Graham Nash. (Wind On The Water, however, has a place on the digital shelves while the other two of those three albums do not.) The first two to show up were the Paul Simon and the Art Garfunkel, both of which landed on my shelves about the time I graduated from St. Cloud State in February 1976. The latest acquired was the Linda Ronstadt album in 1994.

So are any of these essential listening right now? (And let’s just put Born To Run in that category without going any further; I’ve likely said all I ever need to say about that album.)

Beyond that, if we look at the current iteration of the iPod’s playlist we find:

Five tracks from Breakaway, with my favorite likely being Garfunkel’s cover of Albert Hammond’s “99 Miles From L.A.”

Two tracks from Still Crazy . . . but that’s a bit misleading: “My Little Town,” the late 1975 single by Simon & Garfunkel, was on both of their solo albums that autumn, and I happened to pull it into the iPod from Garfunkel’s album.

Two tracks from Red Octopus. One, for long-time readers, is obvious: “Miracles.” The other surprises me a little, but then, the current iPod stock was the result of fast and instinctive clicking, and during that whirlwind, I also pulled in “Play On Love.”

Just one track, “Love Is A Rose,” from Ronstadt’s Prisoner In Disguise. As I rebuild the iPod’s playlist in a couple of days – it’s part of the process of getting my tunes saved on two new three-terabyte external drives – I’ll likely add “The Tracks Of My Tears.”

And one track from Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here is currently in the iPod: “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.” I imagine the title track will be pulled into the iPod during the next rebuild.

And, of course, all eight tracks from Born To Run are in the iPod. But excluding that album, which of the other albums on the Top Ten from forty-two years ago today do I see as essential listening? I guess I’d say Still Crazy After All These Years. And I recall hearing “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” on a snowy weekend evening in December 1975, as I took home the young woman who would become the Other Half. We were sure we’d never need any of those fifty ways.

Saturday Single No. 565

November 18th, 2017

When my external hard drive clicked its way to death the other week, I replaced it – for the time being – with the 500-gig hard drive I’d tucked away as a partial back-up. Doing that means that iTunes could no longer find the 3,600 or so tunes I’d loaded there for my iPod to find.

My plan – now maybe half-way completed – was to buy two new three-terabyte hard drives, use one as my day-to-day drive and put all my music in the other one and tuck it away as a back-up along with the 500-gig hard drive. It took all day yesterday to transfer my current (diminished) library (along with many documents and other bits) to one of the new 3TB drives. I’m going to do the remaining transfer overnight tonight, and on Monday, I’ll reload all of the sorted mp3s into the RealPlayer and start selecting tracks – once again – to go into iTunes for the iPod.

While I was laying those plans, I did not want to go without tunes on the iPod, so I spent a few hours pushing about 2,500 tunes its way via iTunes. This was no careful selection; it was more like one of those sixty-second shopping sprees one sees occasionally on television: grab some stuff here, grab some stuff there, take a whole folder here and another over there.

What it means is that the current tracks in iTunes (and on the iPod) have maybe a different flavor than they had before. So I’m going to run random through four of them to find our single for today.

First up is “Kingdom of Days” from Bruce Springsteen’s 2009 album Working On A Dream. It’s a testament to loving another as the days and years pass. I’ve not listened to it a great deal, and when I do, I tend to get lost in the hypnotic melody. But every time I do stop to notice it, I wonder again why I don’t listen to it more. Probably because when I drop the CD into the player, I have to make sure to skip the first track, “Outlaw Pete.” (It’s the only Springsteen track I truly dislike.)

Our second stop is a take on “Quinn The Eskimo (The Mighty Quinn)” by Bob Dylan and The Band. It came here on the 1985 box set Biograph and was a product of the sessions in Woodstock, New York, that became known as The Basement Tapes. It’s a decent performance of the tune, but – as these things usually go – I tend to like the first version I ever heard of the tune, and that’s Dylan’s live performance with The Band at the 1969 Isle of Wight Festival. That one was also included on Dylan’s second greatest hits package in 1971.

Then we get Jim Croce’s “Next Time, This Time,” about as catchy a kiss-off song as you might ever want to find. “I’m gonna forget your name and your pretty face, girl and write you off as a bad mistake,” he sings, adding that “a woman like you ought to be ashamed of the things that you do to men.” I remember hearing that lyric for the first time in November of 1974 as I played my newly purchased copy of Croce’s 1973 album Life & Times. As I listened, I found myself relating the song clearly to someone I’d dated briefly that September. Many years later, sipping drinks with a couple of friends from that long-ago era, I mentioned the woman’s name, indicating my less-then-fond memories. The other two guys nodded and noted that they’d had similar, and probably more costly, experiences with the same woman. And that memory makes me wonder if Little Feat’s “Dixie Chicken” might show up next.

But it doesn’t. And that’s okay, because it lands on Wilson Pickett’s “634-5789 (Soulsville, U.S.A.),” a 1966 record that went to No. 13 on the Billboard Hot 100 and was No. 1 on the magazine’s R&B chart for seven weeks. Even I, as disconnected as I was with Top 40 music in seventh grade, knew that phone number by heart. Thank goodness I still like the track. Oddly, though, I have mentioned Pickett’s record only once in more than ten years of blogging, and that was in a piece on telephone numbers.

And that means that Wilson Pickett’s “634-5789 (Soulsville, U.S.A.)” is today’s Saturday Single.

Better Than Never

November 14th, 2017

I did a quick look this morning to find a Billboard Hot 100 released on today’s date. There were a few in the 1990s and later, but they didn’t interest me. I found charts from today’s date in 1964 and 1970, but without looking, I decided that those two years have been pretty well chewed around here.

Then I came upon a chart from November 14, 1981. Most of the stuff in the Top 40 was familiar, reminding me of Saturday evenings near Monticello when the Other Half and I would eschew television and turn up the radio as I read and she worked on one craft project or another. We generally liked what we heard on the Twin Cities KS-95, which offered an adult contemporary format to the world. Here’s the Top Ten from the Hot 100 chart released thirty-six years ago today:

“Private Eyes” by Daryl Hall & John Oates
“Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones
“Physical” by Olivia Newton-John
“Waiting For A Girl Like You” by Foreigner
“Tryin’ To Live My Life Without You” by Bob Seger
“The Night Owls” by the Little River Band
“Here I Am (Just When I Thought I Was Over You)” by Air Supply
“I’ve Done Everything For You” by Rick Springfield
“Arthur’s Theme (The Best That You Can Do)” by Christopher Cross
“The Theme From ‘Hill Street Blues’” by Mike Post feat. Larry Carlton

I don’t recall the tracks by Bob Seger, the Little River Band, or Rick Springfield. If I ever heard them, it wasn’t often enough for them to make an impression. The other seven I know well, although only two of them – the tracks by the Stones and Mike Post – really hold my interest.

(And I wonder if the Seger or the Springfield got play on KS-95. I don’t know that they’d fit the format. On the other hand, I’d think that the Little River Band tune would. As I wondered, I grabbed Joel Whitburn’s Top Adult Songs, which told me that seven of those records made the adult contemporary Top 40; those that didn’t were the records by Seger, Springfield and the Rolling Stones. )

That lack of interest was 1981 for me: The process that I referred to a couple of months ago – I wrote “We were slowly moving into a time when what was popular was no longer what I wanted to hear.” – had left me with very little on the radio that I truly dug. Radio still offered pleasant background noise to an evening of reading, but for the most part, that’s all it was.

Still, I had to assume as I looked at the chart this morning that somewhere in the 110 singles listed in that long-ago Hot 100 (with ten records listed as Bubbling Under), there must have been a record that would make me look at the radio in appreciation, a record that I would want to hear again. So I began to make my way slowly down the list.

It didn’t take long. At No. 27, I found “Harden My Heart” by Quarterflash, a record that was included in my Ultimate Jukebox some years ago. But there was something else, I thought, something that I’d skipped past. So I reversed course, and at No. 15, I saw Al Jarreau’s “We’re In This Love Forever.”

Now, that’s another record that I could hear frequently without getting tired of it. It was a huge hit for Jarreau, reaching No. 15 in the Hot 100 and No. 6 on the magazine’s R&B country and adult contemporary charts. But for some reason, even though I remember the record fondly, I’ve not given it any attention in more than ten years of blogging. In fact, I’ve mentioned Jarreau only twice in those ten-plus years, both times in passing, and I didn’t even notice that he died last February.

I guess late is better than never. Here’s Jarreau’s “We’re In This Love Together.”

Saturday Single No. 564

November 11th, 2017

The Texas Gal is in Texas this weekend, visiting her family. So I slept late before running her car down to the nearby tire shop for a routine tire check.

All was well, so I’m home and half the day is over.

November always brings with it thoughts of those gone from my life, making me a little subdued for the first half of the month. One of the folks I miss is Bobby Jameson, who entered my life after I shared some of his music here. One of my favorites among Bobby’s work is “Big Spoke Wheel,” recorded with Crazy Horse, Red Rhodes and Gib Gilbeau. Bobby told me that the sessions – unreleased until Bobby put many of his tunes up at YouTube – took place in either 1970 or 1971.

And “Big Spoke Wheel” – with its slender connection to my taking care of the tires on the Texas Gal’s car – is today’s Saturday Single.

Catching Up

November 8th, 2017

For a few months now, the Texas Gal and I have been talking about taking a look at the NBC television series This Is Us. So this weekend, we did, letting our smart TV find the show’s first season.

We’ve binge-watched other shows, a prime example being Amazon’s The Man In The High Castle. We took care of two seasons of that in just a couple of weeks. And early this year, we took care of the first season of Outsiders on WGN in a week or so, catching up to watch the second – and final – season as it came around weekly.

But it’s turning out to be tough to binge-watch This Is Us. The time-shifting story of family life is one of the best television series I’ve ever watched. Or perhaps I should say that if the rest of the series – the third second season is airing weekly on NBC these days – is as good as the first five episodes have been, This Is Us will rank among the best television series I’ve ever watched.

But it’s hard to binge on.

Why? Because every episode aims at my heart and hits true. And it never seems to go over the top, except in the ways that life itself sometimes goes over the top. Add in the comic moments that seem to be pulled from someone’s life rather than written, and top those off with intelligent casting and production, and you have great TV.

And, in our household at least, damp eyes. As the credits roll to end another episode, the Texas Gal turns to me. “What’d you think?” I shake my head, unable to speak for a few moments, and then maybe we roll another episode. We managed two in a row the first night and two in a row the next. Last night, we squeezed one into our regular viewing. I think two per evening is going to be our limit.

I’m also very aware of the music used in This Is Us, of course. Ranging from the 1960s to today, lots of it is familiar and some is not, and I keep telling myself I need to find out what the unfamiliar stuff is. That’s how I came upon tunefind, a site that catalogs tracks used in movies and television shows. And that’s how I verified that a track used behind an opening montage in the third episode of the series was in fact a 1965 track that’s been hanging around in the digital shelves here for almost ten years.

Here’s the very spare “Blues Run The Game” by Jackson C. Frank.

Saturday Single No. 563

November 4th, 2017

Remembered moments and places sometimes swirl and connect in odd ways, filling in a picture of something I hadn’t thought about for years.

I was pondering the autumn of 1969, when the St. Cloud Tech Tigers football team – I was one of the managers – went 6-3 and finished at No. 9 in the state rankings released at season’s end by the Minneapolis Tribune. (A lofty ranking for a team with three losses? Maybe, but the Tigers’ three losses came at the hands of the Minneapolis Washburn Millers, the Austin Packers and the Moorhead Spuds, all undefeated and ranked Nos. 1, 2, and 3 by the Tribune. Tech played a tough schedule.)

By the first Saturday in November, the high school season was over. There were no playoffs. So, I wondered, what did go on during the first weekend of November. Locked into football at the moment, I checked at Pro Football Reference to see what the Minnesota Vikings had done. (Besides win, that is: The Vikings that year lost the first and last games of the season, winning twelve in a row in between.) It turned out that was the week that the Vikings hosted the Cleveland Browns and won 51-3.

I didn’t watch the game. This was the era when pro football games were not telecast in the home markets. Did I listen to it? I don’t think so. I do recall learning the final score while at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. My folks and I were waiting for a flight bringing my sister back from Alabama, where she’d been visiting a friend. I remember being in the airport, being annoyed about something. What it was that annoyed me, I’m not sure. Maybe her flight was late.

Having remembered my sister’s trip to Alabama, I recalled that my folks and I had brought her to the airport on Friday evening. In the midst of what was rush hour traffic back then, we made our way south along Highway 100, which was then the main north-south route on the Twin Cities’ western edge. And here’s where the memories get a little fuzzy.

On the western side of Highway 100 in the suburb of Robbinsdale, there was a restaurant called Vanni’s. Its menu was mostly Italian. I think we’d stopped there once before because I remember looking for it as we made our way south. And if I recall correctly, I thought that there might be a good chance of eating at Vanni’s as we made our way home from the airport that evening.

And so we did. I think. I know we made an evening stop at Vanni’s right about this time during the late autumn of 1969. Maybe it was on the way home after taking my sister to the airport that Friday. It might have been the following Sunday, on the way home after my sister’s return from Alabama. I’m not sure of which evening it was, but it was one of the two.

How am I sure? Because I remember what I had for dinner. On our first visit to Vanni’s sometime in the preceding two or three years, I was puzzled by an item on the menu: chili mac. Having learned that it was chili ladled onto spaghetti – two of my favorites in one dish! – I went for it and enjoyed it greatly. So, on our second visit on this November evening, I didn’t bother to look at the menu. I had chili mac and enjoyed it again.

And as we dined, someone went to the jukebox against the wall not far from where we sat. I recognized the record the instant it began. As I sat in Vanni’s and listened, the record – according to research from this morning – was at No. 20 on the Billboard Hot 100 (having moved up smartly from the previous week’s spot at No. 42). On the KDWB survey that week, it was at No. 31, right where it had been the week before. I may have only heard the record once or twice before, but I recognized it.

Why? Because during the introduction, I heard the unmistakable sound of a football game, and the record’s lyrics played on football lingo. It was, of course, “Backfield In Motion” by Mel & Time. It peaked at No. 10 on the Hot 100 and at No. 3 on the R&B chart, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

Sophie’s Bowl

November 1st, 2017

My sister and I are still sorting through Mom’s things, and we will be doing so for some time. During the various moves that took place in Mom’s last years – from Kilian Boulevard to a patio home, from the patio home to assisted living, and from assisted living to memory care – Mom not only put a lot of stuff in two storage units, but she also sent boxes home with me and many more boxes home with my sister.

So Monday morning, I headed down to my sister’s home in Maple Grove to tackle two tasks: Decide what to do with first, Mom’s framed pictures and memorabilia and, second, her silver.

Along with art – a couple of watercolors by a local artist and some prints – and some smaller pieces like doilies her aunt had made, Mom had framed four beautiful certificates issued by a rural church near Lamberton, Minnesota, in the early 1900s. The certificates – all in German – noted the marriage of her parents and her own christening as well as the christening of her two sisters. Mom also had framed certificates noting Dad’s birth and confirmation, issued by churches in the east central portion of Minnesota where Dad grew up, and a couple of other similar events.

My sister thinks her children will take the watercolors, and we’ll put the doilies in the vast amount of stuff heading for an estate sale sometime in the next few months. As to the certificates, we’re going have a local photo shop remove them from the frames and get digital photos of them, and then I’ll contact historical societies in the various counties where the churches were located and see if the folks there are interested in the certificates. If they’re not, I guess we’re going to have to find a safe way to store them and figure out later what to do with them.

As to the silver, Mom had trays, bowls, and a coffee and tea service, a collection that seems typical for the middle class in the Upper Midwest during the middle years of the Twentieth Century. My sister already has enough silver she said, and I didn’t need it. She was going to check with her kids, but the likelihood was that most of the silver would go to the estate sale.

So we each chose one thing: She chose a silver bowl that she and her husband had given Mom and Dad for their silver anniversary in 1973. I pulled bowls from flannel bags and out of mounds of tissue paper, not entirely certain what I might want. As I looked at things, I found the notes my sister had made when the silver was put away in March; with each piece, she’d asked Mom where it came from: they came from cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents.

And one bowl came from Sophie Kashinsky.

The name caught my eye. In April of last year, one of Mom’s stories over lunch had introduced me to Sophie Kashinsky. I’d been asking Mom about the recipe for the punch that had been served at Mom’s 90th birthday celebration in 2011 and at my sister’s wedding in 1972. And Mom told me that the same punch had been served at my grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary celebration in 1965 and at Mom and Dad’s own wedding reception in 1948.

I wrote then:

So where had Grandma gotten the recipe? Well, Mom said, she’d gotten it from her sister Hilda.

And Hilda, Mom said slowly, thinking, had gotten it from her roommate at nursing school. The memories began to spool out, as they always do when Mom gets to talking about things that happened sixty or more years ago: Hilda was living in St. Paul, and the nursing school was at the long-gone Miller Hospital . . .

Hilda’s roommate was a nursing student, too, Mom said, visibly sifting the memories . . . . [Her name was] Sophie, Sophie . . . Kashinsky. Sophie came from Hutchinson, Minnesota, a town about sixty miles straight west of the Twin Cities, with a population back then of not quite 5,000 people.

Where did Sophie get the recipe? Mom didn’t know. She’d met Sophie a number of times, the last occasion being a potluck picnic at the Hutchinson home of the recently married Sophie during the summer of 1950. Mom recalled the year of the picnic because she was pregnant with my sister at the time, and she also recalled that she brought baked beans to the picnic. I have no doubt that if I’d asked her what color the table cloth was, she’d have remembered.

But there was no answer to the question: Where did Sophie get the punch recipe? I didn’t say this at lunch, but it’s reasonable to assume, I think, that Sophie got the recipe from her mother, and I’d like to think that it was served at a reception for Sophie’s graduation from Hutchinson High School sometime during the 1930s, or maybe even at the reception when Sophie’s own parents were married, most likely in the early 1900s.

So when I found inside one of Mom’s silver bowls a note with Sophie’s name on it, I looked a little more closely. The note indicated that in July 1948, when Mom and Dad got married, Sophie had been the supervisor. To me, that means that Sophie took care of the numerous details a wedding day brings: organizing the ushers, getting the flowers in the right places, coordinating transportation for the bridal party back to my grandparents’ farm after the wedding, getting the photographer in the right place, and so on and so on.

So there was no question which piece of silver I’d take from Mom’s collection. I took Sophie’s bowl.

Sophie's Silver Bowl

I’d like to know more than I do, but so far, I’m finding nothing online. On the note, my sister spelled Sophie’s last name as “Kashinski,” but I don’t know if Mom spelled it for her or if my sister made an assumption. In any case, I’ve searched using both “Sophie” and “Sophia” along with “Kashinsky,” “Kashinski,” “Kachinsky,” “Kachinski,” and “Kaczynski.” And I’ve done all of those using “Hutchinson” as an added term. I may be missing something in the results, but nothing seems to be out there for our Sophie. (Searching is complicated by the fact that one of the characters in the CBS comedy Two Broke Girls is named Sophie Kaczynski-Golishevsky, which many fans misspell as one of the other variants listed here.)

So what do we listen to as we think about Sophie and a wedding gift of a silver bowl? I decided quickly against anything from the soundtrack to Sophie’s Choice. I like some work by singer Sophie Zelmani, but my favorite, her cover of Bob Dylan’s “Most Of The Time,” isn’t on YouTube (and would likely be blocked anyway, I think). So I looked for things about silver.

And here is Susan Tedeschi and her cover of the Rolling Stones’ “You Got The Silver.” It’s from her 2005 album Hope and Desire.

Saturday Single No. 562

October 28th, 2017

Well, freezing my balky external hard drive did not do anything except make a dead hard drive icy. I could pry nothing from its cold, dead digital fingers.

But things are not as terrible as I thought they might be when Dale the computer guy first mentioned “The Clicks of Doom.”

Still, it took me most of yesterday to get to a point where I was not in despair:

My old 500-gig hard drive had 338 gigs of tunes, about 62,000 tracks sorted and tagged, as well as another 50 or so gigs of unsorted tunes. It took about four hours to copy all of that from the external drive into the C drive of my desktop desktop (where it will remain until I get two new large capacity external drives, one for use and one for backup). It took about 15 minutes to then tell the RealPlayer to delete things it could not find (in essence clearing the player of tunes), so I had lunch while the player slowly deleted its listing of the 98,000 tracks that had been on the dead drive. I then spent the afternoon and evening pulling tracks from the old (and now current) hard drive into the RealPlayer, doing that task twice because I screwed it up the first time.

(I did talk to the guys at Best Buy’s Geek Squad about salvaging some data, but given that I had on the old drive much of what I’d had on the dead drive, I decided not to spend the $100 to $600 the geek on the phone quoted me.)

So where am I? I’m about where I was four to five years ago. My rough estimate of that came from my file of television soundtracks: The reloaded RealPlayer showed me with two seasons’ worth of soundtracks from Game of Thrones. Up until the crash, I had six seasons’ worth of the show’s soundtracks. So, I have about four-and-a-half years’ worth of music to re-rip and re-load. Luckily, I have my CD log to help me along the way.

And comparing the CD log to the tracks in the RealPlayer, it seems that I will have to re-rip and re-install anything I got after the first week of January 2013. That’s about 220 CDs’ worth of tunes. And I know there is some stuff I got from friends or in odd corners of the Intertubes that I may not be able to replace.

(And there are some non-musical things, too; the scans of my slides from my time in Denmark are gone, as are some scans I did of family photos. But I have the slides, and I was not all that pleased with the way the home program I used dealt with high contrast slides, so I’m not all that upset. In time, I’ll take them down to the Camera Shop and let Frank deal with them.)

So for as wearying and worrisome as the last couple days have been, it could have been far worse. So, to mark the end of an eventful week, here’s a tune written by Bob Dylan and performed by one of my favorite current groups, and it comes from one of the last CD sets I ripped before I got the external drive that read its last byte this week.

Here’s the Carolina Chocolate Drops and their take on “Political World.” It’s from the 2012 set Chimes of Freedom: The Songs of Bob Dylan and it’s this week’s Saturday Single.

Crash!

October 26th, 2017

It was late morning yesterday when things started to go sideways. I was trying to move a file into the folders where I keep my mp3s, on my external hard drive. It wasn’t working, and I thought that the computer was just being slow, so I tried an alternate route, and that didn’t work either.

And as I puzzled over things, I heard soft little clicks coming from behind my flat screen, where the speakers and the modem and the external drive hang out. I rose and leaned over the screen, and I determined that the little clicks were coming from the external drive.

Seated again, I tried to get to the main mp3 folder on my external drive, and the computer said that it couldn’t find the drive. Seriously concerned now, I unplugged the drive and plugged it back in, and the computer told me that the drive needed to be reformatted (adding helpfully that doing so would erase anything on the drive). I decided quickly not to do that, and called Dale, the computer guy down on Wilson Avenue.

“It’s making little clicks?” Dale asked. Yep. I told him. “Well,” he said, “folks call those ‘The Clicks of Doom’.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

He told me the drive was likely lost. “It’s possible to get the data back,” he said, “but you’d have to pay someone a lot of money.”

“So it’s all gone?”

“I think so,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”

So was I, thinking about what was on the drive: 98,000 sorted mp3s, about 590 gigs’ worth. About the same total of unsorted mp3s scavenged from various places. The scans of my slides from my college days in Denmark, as well as about a hundred scans from Dad’s slides. All gone, from what Dale had to say.

Any bright spots? Well, in a strongbox upstairs sits my old external drive, a 500-gig piece that I stored away when I got my three-terabyte drive a few years ago. It should have about 450 gig of music on it, I think. And there may be a way to salvage some data from the three-TB drive.

A Facebook friend of mine told me that freezing the drive overnight might allow me to get some of the data back. From what I’ve read at various websites and boards over the last twenty-four hours, it might be worth a shot. I don’t quite understand why that would work – something about minor contraction of the drive and its innards due to cold – but I’ll think about that later. If it doesn’t work, I’m no worse off.

So I think tonight, I’ll nest the drive in two freezer bags and set it in the freezer. Tomorrow morning, we’ll see what happens. I have enough room on my main drive for the sorted mp3s, should I be able to salvage them. And I’ll retrieve the 500-gig drive from the strongbox and see what that holds.

And we’ll go from there. Sometime in the next week, I’ll go shopping and get two external drives: one for main use and one to use as a back-up once a month or so.

There is one bit of good news: At the computer, as I’ve mentioned before, I listen to my music through a program called RealPlayer. Right now, all of my 98,000-some sorted mp3s are still listed in the program menu, but they all have a little red X denoting that RealPlayer cannot find the file. That means that I have a list of everything I lost, should the freezer gambit fail. I can then make note of things that I gained elsewhere that I would have to go find again, if they are still around to be found.

I still have the CDs that were the source of maybe 75 percent of the mp3s. The thought of re-ripping something like 1,000 CDs is daunting, as is the thought of re-researching the release numbers and dates to re-tag the mp3s of all of the vintage music I have on CD. But that’s how things are when things crash.

Here’s Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs with their cover of Bob Dylan’s “Down In The Flood.” It’s on the duo’s 1968 album Changin’ Times.

Saturday Single No. 561

October 21st, 2017

I’ve been digging around in 1972 this week, mostly in the car. I’ve got a couple of CDs I’ve burned that are nothing but tunes from 1972 – mostly hits but some deeper tracks – and those are what’s kept me company as I’ve driven on my errands this week.

So I thought I’d take a quick look at the Billboard Hot 100 from forty-five years ago today – October 21, 1972 – in a search for a single for this morning. Here’s the Top Ten from that long-ago date:

“My Ding-A-Ling” by Chuck Berry
“Use Me” by Bill Withers
“Burning Love/It’s A Matter Of Time” by Elvis Presley
“Everybody Plays The Fool” by the Main Ingredient
“Nights In White Satin” by the Moody Blues
“Ben” by Michael Jackson
“Baby Don’t Get Hooked On Me” by Mac Davis
“Garden Party” by Rick Nelson & The Stone Canyon Band
“Popcorn” by Hot Butter
“Go All The Way” by the Raspberries

Well. It’s truly a crime of history that Chuck Berry’s only No. 1 hit was a piece of gleefully bawdy crap. He came close a couple of time with a couple of his greatest records: “School Day” was No. 3 for three weeks in 1957, and “Sweet Little Sixteen” was No. 2 for three weeks in 1958. But if we ignore Berry’s record, the Elvis B-side and young Michael Jackson’s love song to a rat, there’s a good half-hour of listening in there. What, though, is lower down the list?

Well, looking at the bottom ten records, we find Joe Simon’s sweet take on “Misty Blue” sitting at No. 95. That’s a song that I know far better from Dorothy Morrison’s No. 3 version from 1976, and it’s one that has a longer lineage than I suspected, based on what I see at Second Hand Songs. I’ll likely have to do some digging among the many versions of the tune sometime soon. All I’ll note this morning is that the first version of the tune to hit the charts came from Eddy Arnold in 1967. His take on the tune went to No. 57 (and to No. 3 on the country chart). Simon’s cover of “Misty Blue” hung around in the bottom portion of the chart for five weeks, peaking at No. 91.

But it’s a nice version of a sweet song, and that’s enough to make Joe Simon’s take on “Misty Blue” today’s Saturday Single.