Last week, as part of its pledge drive, my PBS station aired a concert of artists from the 50's and 60's. Ninety percent of the audience were people my age and that same ninety percent were singing along -- no bouncing ball needed. The lyrics of our youth are fondly held in place by a dollop of musical super glue. Most of us can't remember what we had for dinner last night, but hum a few bars of "It's My Party", we can recall any number of anecdotes connected to that song.
Naturally, the singers are older now, voices a bit raspy, bodies a bit rounder -- some a little too round to be wearing sequined jackets (disco ball comes to mind). But they were rockin' out as though it was just another American Bandstand appearance.
For me, the highlight of the show was the Fleetwoods. For 8th grade graduation, my friends and I were given front row tickets to a live concert -- Fabian, Frankie Avalon and the Fleetwoods. Yes, I know Frankie does arthritis commercials but I'd rather remember him on the beach with Annette Funicello.
But the Fleetwoods? There they were, singing their hits, sparking memories of the afternoon nearly 50 years ago when I was in rock and roll heaven.
1 comment:
That sounds so fun. Seems that the songs from my youth are the ones that bring on the great memories, even though I had unhappy times as a child.
Steph
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