As I Was Saying
Easy Breezy Radio
By Alan Williamson
I was driving around town listening to the radio the other day and I heard Kenny Rodgers sing “She Believes In Me” followed by John Denver singing “Sunshine On My Shoulders” followed by the Captain and Tennille singing “Love Will Keep Us Together.” Looking for a logical explanation for this odd string of moldy oldies, I came to two possible conclusions:
1) I had hit a pothole that somehow triggered a time-travel episode landing me back in the 1970s.
2) A new easy listening station had invaded the airwaves.
Since a quick reality check confirmed I wasn’t wearing bell bottoms or flipping the hair out of my eyes every 10 seconds, I latched onto the new radio station theory. Of course, I use the word “new” loosely when referring to a station where Olivia Newton John and the Bee Gees are topping the charts and Lionel Richie is still dancing on the ceiling.
Frankly, I have a dysfunctional come closer/go away relationship with easy listening radio. On the positive side, there’s that irresistible thrill one gets when an all-time favorite song pops up, like unexpectedly running into an old friend. That’s how I feel when I hear “Operator” by Jim Croce or “Blue Bayou” by Linda Ronstadt or “Handyman” by James Taylor.
On the negative side, easy listening can quickly turn into queasy listening when sappy slush begins to crowd out the joys of timeless musical gems. That’s how I feel when I hear “Can’t Smile Without You” by Barry Manilow or “My Eyes Adored You” by Frankie Valli or “Sometimes When We Touch (The Reality’s Too Much)” by Dan Hill. Copy that, Dan.
The worst moments come when, in spite of your self-image as an enlightened connoisseur of music as a dynamic expression of the human experience, you find yourself singing along to some gooey slab of schmaltz like the Carpenter’s “They Long To Be Close To You.” Before you chalk it up to a harmless moment of weakness, let’s recite a snippet of the actual lyrics, shall we?
Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?
Just like me, they long to be close to you.
Still skeptical? Here’s more . . .
Why do stars fall down from the sky, every time you walk by?
Just like me they long to be close to you.
Call it a “guilty pleasure” if you like, but the ability and willingness to sing along with this or any other Carpenter’s song is a sign that your connection to any form of cutting-edge, contemporary music is hanging by a thread. What’s next, swooning to the silky smooth croonings of Canadian songbird Anne Murray? Dancing to the slick pop stylings of Tony Orlando & Dawn? Partying to the power ballads of Petula (“Downtown”) Clark?
As I teeter between this time-warped world of seductive simplicity and today’s plugged-in power surge of life-in-progress complexity, I see the slippery musical slope before me. One minute you’re privately cranking up the car radio to hear an endearing piece of 30-year-old fluff like Peaches and Herb’s “Reunited,” the next you’re in Barnes & Noble or Borders asking some mystified 20-year-old if they carry Peaches and Herb’s greatest hits. Or the Fifth Dimension’s. Or Air Supply’s. What’s that, punk? You never heard of Air Supply? Now don’t make me sing one of their songs to jog your memory. Oops, too late.
I’m lying alone, with my head on the phone,
thinking of you till it hurts.
I know you hurt too, but what else can we do?
Tormented and torn apart.
Not ringing any bells? Here’s the chorus . . .
I’m all out of love, what am I without you?
I can’t be too late to say I was so wrong.
Look, some like the breathless zeal and simpleminded worship of easy listening songs and some don’t. Judging from my tendency to turn the radio up at the first sign of any Everly Brothers song, I probably have a higher tolerance for it then a lot of people. But I still worry about the addictive perils of prolonged ballad abuse.
There’s a line that must not be crossed and pretending that line isn’t there is dangerous. For some the line is drawn at Karen Carpenter. For others, Neil Diamond. For others still, it’s any duet involving Tony Bennett, even if he’s paired with Elvis Costello or Bono. For me, I’ll know I’ve reached the point of no return when I hear the DJ say:
“Stay tuned for more soft and mellow favorites to ease you through your cheesy, breezy life.”
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Alan Williamson is an award-winning writer with 27 years in the field of true fiction (advertising). A practical man who knows that writing for a living is risky going, he has taken steps to pursue a second, more stable career as a leggy super model. Alan can be reached at alwilly@bellsouth.net. © 2011 Alan Williamson.
LISA UNGER
settled in New Jersey. The town (in the book) itself isn’t the town where I grew up but it’s not so wildly different from it. The event that inspired the book is by no means a re-telling of it, and that was very purposeful of me because I had a fear of exploiting the memory of someone who was my classmate and her family. But what I did tell was mine to tell. For me, when I write, in some sense I’m not even thinking that it’s going to be published even though I have a contract and I have every reason to believe that my book will be read by some people – I never think about it while I’m writing. But in this case it was very much something that impacted me, it changed the way I saw the world and it changed my perspective on everything. And not to say it hung heavy on my heart or that it was something I had nightmares about but it changed me in a significant way. It was a moment in time when she called her mom and told her she’d missed the bus which she had done hundreds of times. So her mom was annoyed and told her to walk. I mean, it’s not even a mile and you could easily walk it, yet it was also that moment when he had been waiting and this story has tried to find its way onto the page before. I’ve never been able to resolve it or find strong enough voices to tell the story. It’s interesting because the voices that finally did succeed in telling the story were much older and it was almost as if I had to be older, to be a wife and a mother to have access to all of the layers of the story. You have to have empathy for the mother to tell the story. You never think something like this is going to happen to your child, especially in a town like this that is idyllic, very quiet.
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