Sonic Youth #1: Banal Stories of How I Came to Music

The early songwriter
I was visiting the home of my parent’s friends playing in one of those tiny plastic pools when one of the party’s attendees said something like, “hey that’s a nice song you’re singing. Did you know there’s a real song just like that? It’s called, ‘Splish Splash I Was Taking A Bath.’” She did not sing it, and it would be a few years before I heard what the hell she was talking about.

Apparently I was singing something quite similar. She suggested I was quite the little songwriter. I’m not at all sure why I remember this moment. I wasn’t more than 2 or 3 at the time. There’s much around those days I don’t remember at all. Also, I can’t remember whether I was pleased or disturbed. But this memory is pretty damned vivid for all its apparent trivia. Perhaps it was the shock of learning there were real people who wrote real songs. Imagine.

I do have a few more, similar memories as an older kid, say 4 or 5. Rocking on my spring rocking horse, yelling out new songs similar to the rock and (mostly) country so common in late-70s Pasadena, Texas. It’s pretty slight, and I’m not drawing any sort of conclusions. But your real memories of young childhood are so rare. What I remember is making up songs, mimicking the records and radio tracks I’d heard. Making up songs wasn’t something I’d do regularly again until I was 17. 

I was into vinyl

You sort of had to be. Here were my favorite LP records in 1980. Chipmunk Punk, Mickey Mouse Disco, Queen’s The Game, and the The Story of Star Wars, which was an edited version of the OST that featured clips of dialogue and the most popular tracks (e.g., “Cantina Band” a.k.a, The Bar Scene from Star Wars). My brother and I always made my dad dance to that song. He looked like a great, white, spastic Bill Cosby dancing to the song’s intergalactic flapper-jazz clichés.

In case you were wondering about Mikey Mouse Disco, well, here you go.

So here is the rough equation for the many rocking horse jam sessions I held in my room. My record player was a Sears suitcase model. My dad was then a merchandise manager for Sears, so nearly everything we owned came from there. My rocking horse was pretty much as seen below. I’d go in my room, put my favorite record on (either The Game or Chipmunk Punk) and rock out.

Scans below are taken from the 1979C Sears Wishbook (you will get lost in this site if you stay too long).

 
And so begins what I expect will be a regular series. I had expected to write one long post with 10 or 12 boring episodes. But I’ve decided to stretch them out into a series of posts. My duties as a dad don’t really allow me long stretches of writing time. And anyway, I figure you’re more likely to read these admittedly banal tales of averagewhiteboy-ness if I keep them short.