No, not the Billy Joel album of the same name. That album was made to get people interested in some of Billy Joel's earlier work after he became famous. Oddly, I was a Joel fan early on in his career. I think the only album (on vinyl, too) from his early years that I don't own is Cold Spring Harbor. I never bought it because the sound quality was so bad (I heard it at a friend's house). So I bought Songs in the Attic only because it was made up of live versions of his older songs.
The real subject of this post, then. Today, my wife and I went to buy a new hand lawn mower. Our old John Deere became almost impossible to start last year and besides, we really needed a self-propelled one with the hills we have now. So we abandoned the children, jumped in the truck and headed up to the city. It was a lovely spring morning. The trees are leafing out, the grass is green again, losing the grayish-brown winter color. Occasionally, the greening forests we passed would have a startling jolt of purple flowers, vivid against the still dark woods.
We chatted a bit while the radio played, turned almost too low to hear. Mostly we glanced around and admired spring unfolding around us. The fields we passed still looked forlorn, waiting to be planted before they, too, could join in the glorious greening. Occasionally, one of us would point out to the other something particularly pretty or noteworthy. The radio, almost at a subconscious level played gently.
Then, just as I was at the top of the exit ramp waiting for traffic to clear before I turned, I heard something on the radio. I quickly reached for the volume control and turned the music louder. The obviously Cajun inspired tune lilted through the cab of the truck. Without even thinking, I began to sing along.
My wife, who really should be used to this by now, looked at me with a surprised look as I sang along in near perfect time and with exactly the right words. She said, "Honey, you scare me". I asked her why she said that and she couldn't believe I knew the song. I answered her that the song was by Louden Wainwright III, of course I knew it. Then the announcer came on and confirmed that the song was performed by exactly who I said it was.
So what if I know all the words to Dead Skunk?
UPDATE: After reading this post, my wife pointed out that I had left out her most important quote. She said, "What scares me is there is a Louden Wainwright I and II."
I have a copy of Cold Spring Harbor that, apparently, has been remastered. I have yet to figure out whether or not it is more weird than good or more good than weird. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times that I’ve just about worn it out. As soon as I read the words “Cold Spring Harbor” in your post, Billy’s “You can make me free” came into my head – there’s a ton of Paul McCartney influence apparent, at least to my ears.
I don’t think Billy had completely gotten through puberty on that one. His voice it more pure, and his range greater, than you would be used to. If you can find it digitally remastered, get it.
I’m not familiar with Wainright, but I do note that he hangs out with the Roches. Gonna have to check him out…
Like your blog, too. Blogroll material.
Thanks for the kind words. You really should listen to Wainwright, I suspect you’d like him.
I went to college with a lot of folks from Long Island (properly pronounced lon giland – that’s what they said anyway) and they turned me on to Billy Joel.
I may have to try a remastered version. The one I heard sounded – literally – as if it had been recorded inside a garbage can. A metal one. With cymbals. You get the picture.
When I was a teenager, my family lived in a community that had common recreational facilities. We had an employed manager for the common areas and the rec room named Joe DiVitto. It was probably a day in late 1973 when I found myself shooting pool with Joe’s visiting New York son. He was talking about this group he was going to be in…his name: Liberty DiVitto. That was the first time I ever heard the name Billy Joel.
I was aware of Piano Man, and Turnstiles, but wasn’t really a fan. Joe sure was proud, though. I remember being freaked out happy for him when The Stranger took off like it did (talk about an album I wore out more than once!). I think Joe retired from managing our common areas after that.
Funny old world isn’t it? I used to live next door to Steve Gadd’s grandfather and uncle. Never met Steve, though. He was really busy at that time and didn’t get up to visit much. His grandfather was very, very proud of him.