I'll begin by saying that music was an odd thing in my family's household as I was growing up in the 1960's, 70's and early 80's. When I was a young kid during the 60's, I never heard music in my home. Neither my Mom nor Dad ever turned on a radio or played a record, as far as I can remember. Of course, at that tender age, it never occurred to me that this was unusual. Somewhere in the mid-to-late 70's, the old man popped for a Realistic brand (from Radio Shack... remember that? It more recently morphed into The Source) home audio AM/FM stereo receiver with a built-in 8-track tape player, and a pair of little speakers.
I recall occasionally catching my mother tuned in to some sort of easy-listening station, though never when Dad was home. It had already been made abundantly clear to all that music was not to be played when the head of the household was present. Not only did The Man not have an appreciation for music, it seemed he downright despised it. To him, music was just a frivolous waste of time and an affront to his ears. And he could become downright surly if he caught even the faintest strains of something tuneful in his house. The rules were clear, even if they were broken now and then... by me. Later, I listened almost exclusively on headphones.
So Mom had to pick her moments to relax with some music. As soon as the old crank pulled out of the driveway to go run some errands, that was when the matron of our home could breathe easy and play something on the stereo. My involvement in her musical moments were few and far between though.
Mom enjoyed light music at the time, sometimes very low-key like Anne Murray, sometimes a bit more lively like the Glenn Miller Orchestra. She had a handful of 8-track tapes lying around, which included the two artists I just mentioned, plus some Carpenters and the like.
It was maybe a few years later that there was an addition to the family room's minimalist audio set-up. A strange-looking cassette tape player entered the mix. It most resembled one of those portable cassette players from back in the day, a boxy thing with the function keys and flat-loading tape slot on top. Again, this was a Realistic model, but it didn't look like a true system component, other than the fake woodgrain plastic sides. But it did the job. This became my way of building my first tape collection, recording tons of music off FM rock radio stations.
It was at this time that Mom began to buy commercial pre-recorded cassettes. Not very many, mind you, but she occasionally added a tape to her little collection. Probably no more than a dozen or so at most. I sometimes sneaked a peek at her tapes to see what she liked to listen to. I even gave her one or two tapes as Christmas presents. I remember first hearing the music of the Benny Goodman Orchestra and George Gershwin's An American in Paris when Mom took over the family room stereo.
Since I had my own little audio system in the basement - where I had re-located my bedroom for privacy and to escape from the little brother - I didn't really need to spend much time with the upstairs stereo, other than to periodically record some more radio tapes. So much music! But I was curious about Mom's tastes in tunes, so I checked out her tapes now and then.
George Gershwin's An American in Paris was interesting to me - and still is, its sprightly rhythms and bright brass section leaping out of the mix. The gentle sections of the ambitious jazz-classical fusion were evocative yet playful. This very progressive orchestral piece plays like a suite of sections that each depict a different theme... telling a story. Perhaps An American in Paris spoke to me the way that Rush's 2112 suite did. On the flip-side of that tape was Rhapsody in Blue, equally unique and intriguing. The lengthy piece moves through a variety of tempos, styles, and textures. Also very cool. Good one, Mom!
The Carpenters were, at the time, too middle-of-the-road for my tastes, though their one song, Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft was kind of cool. I guess the music appealed to my limited pop sensibility, and the lyrics to my science-fiction fanaticism.
The big band stuff was beyond me... the Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman orchestras just weren't my cup of tea. Even today, though I can appreciate several jazz styles, that swing band sound just doesn't do it for me.
I think it was the Anne Murray 8-track that I heard my mother play the most. For a while there, she seemed to like that sort of lightweight country-pop more than the rest. Snowbird, Danny's Song... that sort of thing. I do remember secretly playing that tape a few times just to hear Murray's rendition of the Monkees song Daydream Believer. Though I preferred the classic Monkees version, I thought this one wasn't so bad, fairly true to the original, only with female vocals. And as time has passed, I've come to like some Anne Murray music, and even bought myself one of her old records recently.
I was a teenager during those years of getting to know my Mom's musical tastes. As soon as I graduated high school, I was outta there and off to another city for college. Then from there to an even more distant city where I've lived until today. So I wasn't keeping up with everything Mom listened to for many years. She did play a lot of piano during that time, so I knew she was learning stuff that she already knew and enjoyed from the Great American Songbook, artists like Ellington, Porter, and Berlin.
In more recent decades, during visits, I've heard my Mom mention her interest in the music of Billie Holiday, Harry Connick Jr, and Michael Bublé. I used to listen a bit to a Connick CD I have around here somewhere, but I no longer care much for it, and certainly have no inclination to get into Holiday or Bublé. I've checked out both a bit, and neither appealed to me. If I want Sinatra-like music, I'll listen to Sinatra.
So I'd say that my sole musical influence at home was my Mom. Her tastes were varied, as were - and are now - mine. I liked some of what she listened to back when I was a teenager, and even the stuff I didn't... well, I've sort of come around to it. Maturing, getting older, nostalgia, broadening the horizons, a more open mind. Though the radio and friends had a greater influence, Mom helped, at least in a small way, to shape my musical interests.
Thanks, Mom.
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