Who Me? Angsty?

I officially became a teen on May 4th, 1973. I had begun my decade of angst well before that time, convinced that I was not meant to be where I was, doing what I was doing, living where I lived. The whole world was one big mousetrap, and it had me by the tail.

I was the blue-eye redhead in the midst of a whole family of brown-eyed brunettes, and I was certain, deep in my heart, that I had been found under a rock somewhere. I didn't fit.

When I was about eleven, a family friend and neighbor introduced me to Simon and Garfunkel. He was a Vietnam vet, an electrician, older brother to my softball teammates and the coolest guy I'd ever met. I probably had a little crush on him, but to John I was just another little sister.

John had a big reel-to-reel tape player, which he was glad to let us listen to, but when sharing music, it was always on cassette tapes. He gave me tapes of Simon and Garfunkel, Santana and Creedence Clearwater Revival at about the time I decided I was something akin to a cabbage patch kid.

I deeply, deeply identified with the song "I Am A Rock". I was, at the time, the oldest of four children, an introverted loner and in the midst of the powerful delusion that I had been secretly adopted and everyone was lying to me about it.

Well, my good friend John had a great guffawing fit when I suggested it to him, and told me that of all the kids, I was the one who looked most like my dad.

I thought he was nuts--it took me years to realize how true that is. But I felt better, and moved on to something a little less "Oh, poor me" and a little more romantic/tragic:

I don't remember who brought The Moody Blues to my attention. This song had been around for a while before I first heard it.

The 1970s were filled with great music. If you had unlimited funds, you could go out and collect all the vinyl you wanted and then some.

I was not rolling in dough, but I had been gifted a Lloyd's cassette tape recorder with a microphone one Christmas, and I determined to build my own great playlists.

Building the playlist in those days meant setting up your recorder, turning on the radio and waiting...waiting...waiting until a song you wanted came on. And then hoping none of your noisy siblings would come barging in while you were recording.

Oh, the agony of having a song nearly recorded, and then--"Hey, Paula, whatcha doing?"

"Auughhhh!"

I spent money on blank cassette tapes and batteries, and I took my music everywhere.

Boom boxes didn't come along until the 1980s, when I was a young married mommy. But I was years ahead of my time. Me and my tape recorder, the inseparable team. (Truthfully, I would have loved all that extra volume. Boom boxes are pretty awesome.)

By the time my baby brother made his grand entrance in 1973 I was reconciled to being a member of the family, even if I was secretly adopted. I was more than a little disappointed that he, too, was brown-eyed, but I was determinded, by then, to believe that I was indeed gifted with the recessive gene of my maternal blue-eyed grandfather.

Still, I was a morbid little thing, and so I would collect those sad and blue, tear inducing tunes and play them over and over.

By this time, I was the go-to babysitter in my neighborhood, and I had money for vinyl. I had a record player. But my trusty Lloyd was still my favorite possession, because it went where I went.

I am somewhat, almost, sort of convinced that my ghost is this guy, which is why I call him Jim. (Oh. That's another story.)

Mandolin. There's really not much more I need to say about Heart's Dream of the Archer. It is brilliant. Ann and Nancy are brilliant.

I started playing guitar, and then drums in Junior High. I left that clarinet in a heartbeat when presented with the oportunity to play drums. Let the kid sister toot that horn--I was ready to bang those drums.

My big rebellion wasn't drinking or drugs--it was booming rock and roll. I discovered Alice Cooper. My parents were--to say the least--shocked.

Honestly, this isn't the song that completely freaked my parents out. If you really want your parents to worry that you might be slipping over the edge, just play this one:

Okay, I was pretty young. Eleven, maybe. I had no idea. But my parents, who ordinarily wouldn't have paid a bit of attention to lyrics, were just mortified. And then, of course, they wouldn't explain why. I just shrugged and said, "I like the drums. I'm going to play like that someday."

(I didn't start playing drums for a couple more years, but I always knew I would. And this song is seriously fun to play on the drums.)

Anyone familiar with my stories knows Alice is my go-to guy, and if you want more, you can hear his ballads here: https://vocal.media/beat/to-all-the-songs-i-ve-loved-before

In High School I joined a group and really started rocking. But I still liked those songs that gave me food for thought, like "Dream On". We listened and discussed. Would we ever feel like that, worried about lines on our faces and getting older?

Well, here I am. Older. Sigh.

The reality of death hit when a classmate of my sister's was killed in an accident. After the funeral, she bought a record--a rare thing for her. She usually just listened to whatever I had going on. (She bought clothes and shoes. I bought records and books.) But this was personal for her, and I love it to this day, even though it makes me cry:

I will just say that, although I am no longer a teen, I can still be angsty on occasion, and I still listen to and love these songs. They make me sigh, they make me cry, the remind me that it'll most likely be okay, and if it's not, I have something to listen to while I'm moody.

This is one song I love enough that I made it my ringtone. That piano! Yes, yes.

For a while I had a line from that song for my messages notification, but after my mother was hospitalized and we feared for her life, hearing Alice say he didn't want to feel you die every time someone texted for an update on her condition got a little freaky. Now it's just "ding, ding."

(She recovered. If she looks a little pale in the picture above, it's because she'd just come home to us.)

I hope you enjoy my angst-ridden playlist as much as I do!

If you liked this little jaunt down my musical (angsty) memory lane, please consider clicking that heart below. Tips are always GREATLY appreciated.