Okay, so about 5:00am this morning I wake up to the sound of a song. I suppose that’s better than the sound of traffic or even an alarm but at 5:00am anything loud enough to awaken you is disturbing. I knew the song too. It was a Katy Perry hit - and I knew the lyrics. In fact, I knew the whole thing, lyrics music, the whole schmear. And - it wouldn’t stop. Do you know why? That’s right - it was playing over and over right inside my head - and I couldn’t get back to sleep.
What is it that happens when we get a song stuck in our heads and it will not go away - we’ve all been there. Oh sure, you can ignore it and may think you’ve gotten past it when all of a sudden, 10 minutes later, you find yourself humming it again - or singing it out loud.
What I don’t get, is who makes the selection on that mental jukebox, presses the play button 500 times and then leaves the premises? I mean, honestly. It’s usually not even a song you want to be stuck listening to even though you obviously know it well enough to provide orchestrations. And sometimes, it is so out of your current frame of musical reference as to completely flummox you - that is, if you can get past your annoyance at the insanity of it all.
The other morning (or was that this morning too? I’m not sure - I was so tired), I tumble of of bed (“…and stumble to the kitchen…”) and head into the bathroom to shower - without the slightest inkling of what was about to ambush me.
So, there I am, ‘scrubbing up’ and I suddenly become aware of the presence of a song - it’s coming from me - I’m singing it - and I know all the words. The thing is - I haven’t heard this song in, oh, at the very least, 40 years! It’s not exactly a classic either. It’s Burt Bacharach and it’s not one of his hits. Why do I even know this ‘piece’!?
A very long time ago, when I was in my mid-teens, I guess, my father, who was not the generous type when it came to birthdays and gifts and that sort of thing, utterly surprised me with my very own stereo with headphones. I was very surprised - stunned, really.
I have a feeling that in a moment of weakness while leafing through a magazine he saw an advertisement for a Columbia Records, Longine’s Symphonette Stereo Turntable, tore it, out and bought it. Of course, there was a catch - you had to join the Columbia Record Club and purchase at least one LP each month for a year, chosen from a number of categories. If, for some reason, you could not settle on a selection, an album would be chosen for you from a default category of your choosing. Since I, the recipient of this magnificent gift, was not present at its inception, the default category was picked by my father - it was Easy Listening.
The first LP to arrive was from this category and could very well have been the Bacharach. If it wasn’t the first, then perhaps the second - point being here: I received Burt Bacharach’s eponymous Long Playing stereo record. Let’s just say, it was not to my taste (at least, not that I would admit during those years…) and it was quickly shelved - or thrown under the bed.
So, there I am, in the shower and I’m singing, of all things on that album, Hasbrook Heights - it’s not even a hit to remember - but uncannily enough, I do.
The mind is a funny thing, eh? And the brain even funnier. What brought that song to the surface, I asked myself - there’s nothing about soap in it - or shampoo - or even water! But there it was, just as loud as anything.
The other thing is - how do we manage to remember all those lyrics to all those songs when we can’t even remember a phone number, or an address - or for that matter, where we put the keys?
And yet, each one of us has the most incredible jukebox in our heads, filled to the brim with songs we didn’t even know we knew - it’s amazing! And sometimes annoying - like Katy Perry, this morning.
Clearly, music is much more important to us than we know and truth be told, I’m kinda partial to my jukebox - even the Bacharach.
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