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by
Jen Farris
Life is full of pinnacle moments. Many of mine are captured
in time in the back of my mind and are rekindled after pulling out my
photo album. Fond memories with friends; you know, back when spontaneity
was a word in my vocabulary. Back when five dollars could buy either three
things:
• Dinner for a week (seven
containers of Oodles of Noodles)
• A cab ride to the mall (knowing I had to bum a ride back to
campus because my spending money was being used to buy a cute outfit
for the gym jam that evening)
• A five-dollar mix tape that had all the best classic 70’s
& 80’s soul jams on it.
Yeah. Classic jams. That’s what I remember
the most. Jams that moved the soul. Jams that were so fierce they captured
emotions in time on pages in my photo book; people’s images frozen
in time with their eyes closed, lips pierced, and hands in the air, as
if they were living scenes from Ernie Barnes paintings, and no matter
where you live, your race, or language, when the DJ plays that special
song that rocks your emotions, the word “ooohhh” is the universal
confirmation of “that’s my jam!”
Frozen in time are my memories of Good music. Golden music that contains
song intros that make you stop in mid sentence of very intense conversations,
but instead of the other person getting upset, they join in by singing
the tune in unison with you. Who would have thought that samples from
Partridge Family’s “ I Think I Love You” would be a
hip-hop classic by Nice & Smooth. ‘Baaah bah bah bah- bah bah
bah baaah bah--- I got a funky rhyme with a funky funky style I got a
funky rhyme with a funky funky style...” Every photo- All eyes closed,
every lip pierced, hands in the air. Every face saying “Aww yeah,
that’s my JAM!”
Golden Music Memories. But now I think to myself, "when was the last
time I felt this way?” "When was the last time I became mesmerized
by the movement of a melody, or the words used to describe something in
a song?" As I attempt to recall some of the music I've heard lately,
my mind slips away from the photo album and takes me to the nightmarish
rekindled thoughts of me sitting in front of my TV for 3 minutes of horror
at 1:57am watching girls clap their 'below the belt' cheeks for dollars
on “BET's Uncut” video show while rappers in throwback jerseys
pop bottles with models.....mind you..... 3 minutes before the BET 2am
Christian hour of praise. All of a sudden I become ill.
Will our generation’s Oldies But Goodies 20 years from now be songs
comprised of lyrical content full of 'droppin' 'poppin' 'slobbin' or better
yet 'scrubbin' 'creepin' and 'reminding someone of their 'jeep-in'..?!
Oh Lord. Just shoot me!
Please tell me that the passion of writing good music will never be buried
in my afterthoughts. In Sony Legend box sets that sit high on my CD shelves.
In my daddy’s dusty LPs. In my childhood memories of me turning
the dial clockwise in the front seat of my mamma's 1979 Green Dodge Plymouth
when I used to slip and slide across the car on her hard hot leather seats
(cause ya'll know there was just one BIG front seat). I want to smile
again when I turn on the radio. I want to make mental notes when I hear
a song for the first time and document what I was doing when I hear it
(I don't want to be reaching for Pepto Bismal because I am suddenly sick
to my stomach from all the motion of bumpin and grinding, slippin and
slidin). If anybody is out there, please tell me that there is a silver
lining behind the clouds in radio land because 1:57am is becoming a round-the-clock
nightmare and I'm ready to give my aching stomach a well-deserved rest.
I've put the prayer out there so I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
In the meantime, I'll be thankful that I was able to capture those fond
memories through my photos, and keep them at close hands reach, when I
feel the need to smile again.
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