The Oppenheimer Report - 4/20/15

I’ve spent a lot of time over the past few weeks poring through my music collection for songs that I might want to play on the radio show. I don’t know if anybody’s listening, and that’s one of the weird things about radio. There you are, alone with a mic, and you have no idea if three people or three thousand are listening in. I don’t expect a big audience, perhaps more when the summer residents arrive, but maybe I can reel in some new listeners by playing a little JethroTull, or a weird Aerosmith cover or, perhaps even some cover sung by Judy Garland. Regardless of how many people are listening, I’ve had a lot of fun learning more about the music I love, and I have had some great feedback from friends near and far. There are so many songs which over the years have influenced me, and every song is a whistle stop on my wild, winding journey. Whenever I hear a certain Led Zeppelin song from the Houses of the Holy album, it reminds me of a beach bar I used to spend a lot of time in during the summers of my ill spent youth. For me at least, songs are like auditory snapshots of the past, and they enhance my memories. Maybe that’s why I like to write songs; I hope one day one of my songs will live on as someone else’s mnemonic device.

 

The other night I was digitally converting a song from my collection for this week’s show, from an old Steppenwolf LP (At Your Birthday Party), and that song conjured up a vivid flashback. I heard the song “Rock Me” and the distinctive drum solo in the middle of that song transported me back to the early 70s and my childhood bedroom in our Buffalo home. I remember listening to that album on my sister’s old stereo, on a hot spring afternoon, and I recall looking out of my second story window at kids playing basketball in the nearby schoolyard of Public School 56. I can picture our verdant, big backyard full of old growth trees and flowers. Mom always had beautiful gardens. I listened to a lot of Steppenwolf back then, and probably had every album they ever made. That includes the last one, featuring a photo of the "penis-mobile" on the inside cover (a car designed to look like an erect penis on wheels). My tastes in music have evolved somewhat, and are considerably more eclectic than they were back then, but I still appreciate the music of Steppenwolf. I can picture myself in my off white,  whale corduroy, hip hugger bell bottoms from the Town Squire Boutique, and my ridiculously wide leather belt from the Soul Source on Elmwood Ave.  I was a boy obsessed with looking and being cool (and failing miserably at both). Years later, my friend Bob and I caught one of the last concerts at the Crystal Beach Ballroom in the now defunct Crystal Beach Amusement Park. On the bill that night were front man John Kay, with whatever band he was now calling Steppenwolf, as well as Alvin Lee and Ten Years After. Both bands put on a fantastic show.

 

Most people are focused in the star who brings a song to light, but I am just as interested in the writer of that song. So often the songwriters go unrecognized. Last Friday night, at the monthly open stage in Burk’s Falls, I saw local picker Merv Mulligan perform a few of his original songs. Merv is a veteran local bluegrass musician, and from what I heard last Friday night, he’s pretty a good songwriter. The country and bluegrass guys often tell great stories. I’ll be playing the recording I made of Merv’s performance on my show this week. Last Thursday night, on the “Live Drive” show before mine, I watched local blues singer Papa John Witterick perform a set at Hunter’s Bay Radio, and he was a pleasant surprise. This is what I love about doing this new radio show. I was concerned that I would not be able to keep presenting more songs I like, but between all the knowledgeable DJs at HBR and all my friends with interesting suggestions and requests, my musical universe is expanding quickly. There is so much under-recognized talent from which to draw. I am appreciative for the people at Hunter’s Bay Radio for giving a voice to obscure and/or local artists, and I hope to contribute to that effort. Singer Percy Sledge died last week of cancer at 74 years of age. Sledge is probably best known for his 1966 hit When a Man Loves a Woman, which he co-wrote with band mates Calvin Lewis and Andrew Wright. May he rest in peace. Another notable death: Last week marked the 150th anniversary of the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln at Ford’s Theatre in Washington DC.

 

Time flies when you’re having fun.

 

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED