Little Big Town
The last album I purchased was very uncharacteristic of me. It was country. New, current country music, no less.
As with any uncharacteristic music purchase, this one has a back story. And it involves a bar. Heh.
In case you didn’t know, Conway is home to the best bar in the world: The VFW. That’s right, the VFW, or The V, as it is lovingly called. As you would expect, it’s full of old war veterans, including a man that wears an eye patch, and their respective lady friends. Every Friday night at the VFW is karaoke night. It costs two bucks to get in, and they sell pitchers of beer for six bucks. For those unfamiliar, that’s a bargain. I wouldn’t say that I frequent the VFW, but I am on a first-name-basis with the manager, Brandy.
Anyways, one glorious Friday evening my friends and I met at the VFW for a few pitchers and some karaoke (yes, I sing karaoke on occasion, and I’m no good but I don’t care). There were loads of people there, and the crowd was in the mood to party. I wasn’t paying all that much attention to the singers, though I clap and cheer for everyone, and all of the sudden the crowd went wild when this cowboy started singing. By the end of the song, everyone was on their feet, standing up front singing along. I was intrigued. What was this song? Why was everyone going crazy over it? So I did a little investigating among my friends. “It’s Boondocks, Jonelle. You don’t know this song?”
Uh, no. But I wanted to. So when I made it home (the next day) I surfed iTunes until I found it. The band is Little Big Town, the album is The Road to Here. I’m a sucker for a deal and could not allow myself to purchase just one song for $.99 when I could have the whole album, thirteen songs, for $9.99. So I bought the whole album.
I bought an entire album for one song.
Thankfully, the whole album is decent. I actually listen to it in its entirely fairly regularly. The best song is, of course, Boondocks. Because I was raised in the boondocks. And so were all of the people that freaked out over the song at The V. There is something about a song that accurately represents where I was raised that sparks a fire in my heart.
******
I feel no shame
I’m proud of where I came from
I was born and raised in the boondocks
One thing I know
No matter where I go
I keep my heart and soul
In the boondocks
******
It’s not just the words. It’s the music. The twangy, bluesy, slide guitar accompanies a strong, toe-tapping beat and perfect harmonies, making me feel like I’m at a church service in a honky tonk.
But mostly, it is the words. I love where I’m from and can’t imagine having been raised anywhere else on the planet. My favorite place in the world to be is walking up an old dirt road smack dab in the middle of nowhere.
Otherwise known as the boondocks.
Who is Simon without the Garfunkel?
This one comes with a disclaimer:
I know this is unforgivably late, and we basically talked about half of this in class on Monday, but I already had the majority of this written before that discussion. Funny how things work out that way.
So, without further adieu, my oh-so-late blog on my favorite band:
My all time, ultimate, most favorite band ever is Simon & Garfunkel.
Often when I claim them as my favorite band, I have to defend Garfunkel’s presence in the group and his validity as a good musician. Many claim that Paul Simon was the heart and soul of the band and back that up with examples of his success as a solo artist. The fact that Art Garfunkel dropped off the face of the planet is always an issue with people. Just because he didn’t continue to produce music as a solo artist doesn’t mean he was meaningless or a bad musician. Even it he did attempt to be a solo artist and failed, that still does not necessarily indicate a lack of talent.
Simon & Garfunkel were one-of-a-kind. Together they created something beautiful and something that would not have existed if they had never found each other. I can’t think of a time in my life that I have heard another band with a similar sound. Maybe Peter, Paul & Mary?? Maybe? But they were pre-Simon & Garfunkel, so I don’t think they count. And I have never once compared another group to them. I could be jaded, but that’s part of my job if I’m claiming they are my all time, ultimate, most favorite band ever.
Here’s a funny little tidbit: The only Simon & Garfunkel album I’ve ever owned is Simon & Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits. So how in the world could I claim this band as my favorite based only on a compilation of their greatest hits? I don’t have the answer. But like everything else in my life, it stems from my childhood and the place their music takes me when I listen to it.
I have listened to Simon & Garfunkel for as long as I can remember. Whether I heard them on our favorite oldies radio station on the way to church, or on the one tape we owned – Simon & Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits, of course – while wasting away a summer day, they were always relevant. The melodies were simple and beautiful, never oppressive, and their words were poetic, enlightening and penetrating. In my sheltered life, they represented worldliness and experience, two things I longed for. It broke up the monotony and they allowed me to walk a mile in their shoes.
What I liked most about Simon & Garfunkel was that every song told a story. Someone else’s story. I wished I was each character and tried to imagine myself on their path. My limited experiences at that time had not yet allowed me to participate in the life they sang about, so listening to their music gave me the opportunity to see things from a different perspective.
Each song was full of emotion – joy, sadness, loneliness, love. And each one represented a different stop on the bus ride of life. But the emotion was always contained, released methodically and softly, reaching out to dip its fingers into my soul. I was living vicariously through Simon & Garfunkel.
In a way, I still live vicariously through their music. Except now I’ve had plenty of life experiences and can place myself as a character in their songs. When I listen, I go back to the time in my life when I was wide-eyed and innocent, dreaming of how full and exciting life could be. Listening to Simon & Garfunkel has become a quiet reminiscence of all that has been, including that time of innocence. What were once dreams are now tangible experiences, and I am able to set my mind free. I don’t have to think about lessons learned. I don’t wish I would have or wonder what would have happened if I could have, I only bask in the glow of moments that were experienced. The whisper of the words and delicate sounds of the guitar carry me back. I do not believe in having regrets or forgetting bad decisions. They are who I am. I can just be.
And man do I feel groovy.
Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da….
Permission to Over-Analyze 