However, since I became a grandfather in 2013 it's been tempting to surrender and join society's majority. For one thing, Facebook appears to be the main vehicle (with the possible addition of Instagram) for sharing kiddies' pictures with your "friends." Ah, but there's that dreaded "F" word, "friends." Think how embarrassing it would be to create a Facebook account and then admit to the world that your roster of friends totaled a measly 15.
In spite of this reticence I am not completely isolated from Facebook posts. Momma Cuandito frequently alerts me to pictures of our kids and grandkids, posts from folks such as my former students or classmates, or particularly funny offerings, many of which target a certain politician of national renown. In this age of sheltering in place, people have more time to spend on the internet, sometimes resorting to on-line games and virtual activities to replace the in-person social contact they are missing.
Earlier this month Star Tribune music writer Chris Riemenschneider wrote about a Facebook activity called the "Ten Albums Challenge.” This enterprise entails a poster requiring a selected friend ("Friend # 1") to name ten albums which have influenced her taste in music. Friend # 1 posts a picture of one album cover a day -- "no explanations, no reviews" -- for ten consecutive days. With each such post Friend # 1 tags a friend ("Friend # 2"), thereupon challenging Friend # 2 to follow suit. In effect, what you end up with is a sort of chain letter, and everyone I know hates chain letters. So do I.
Still, with time on my hands I find at least the first part of the Ten Albums Challenge intriguing, so I've compiled a list of what ten albums I would pick if I were on Facebook and one of my 15 friends invited me to play. It is important to note what the Ten Albums Challenge is not: It is not necessarily a call to list your ten favorite albums, nor are you being asked to name the ten albums which you consider the most important or greatest in the pop/rock era. The exercise mostly has to do with influence. Riemenschneider also points out "some participants make a point of choosing less obvious picks to tell a little bit more about themselves." Why pick an album like Michael Jackson's Thriller or Pink Floyd's The Dark Side Of The Moon when thousands of other participants will do the same?
In order to suit my blogging purposes -- not to mention my dearth of techno proficiency -- I have tweaked Facebook's rules of engagement, to wit, in place of album cover photos without explanations, I am offering some textual tidbits for each of my selections. The albums appear in chronological order.
1. Ella And Louis, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong (Verve Records, 1956). When I was eight years old my dad, The Marquis, brought home a hi fi record player. It was a cherry wood four foot high piece of furniture with a turntable and a relatively large one-channel speaker. He correctly figured, what good was a fancy record player without some records, so he also surprised us with six vinyl albums. The one I played constantly was Ella And Louis, a blend of Ella's beautiful smooth voice with Louis' gravely singing, which was actually more like speaking. Good thing for him he was a premier trumpet player. My two favorite tracks were Can't We Be Friends? and Irving Berlin's Isn't This A Lovely Day? My family enjoyed this LP so much that the following year we bought the newly released Ella And Louis Again which contains my favorite song by them, Let's Call The Whole Thing Off, written by George and Ira Gershwin.
2. Christmas Sing-Along With Mitch, Mitch Miller And The Gang (Columbia Records, 1958). Here is another favorite from my Libertyville days. My parents always made a big deal out of Christmas, and my sister, Michele, and I were more than willing to go along. By 1958 we had accumulated a number of traditional Christmas albums, but the one with which we had the most fun was Christmas Sing-Along With Mitch. The unique feature of this LP was its inclusion of ten or twelve lyrics sheets which we individually used (as the title suggests) to sing along with Mitch and his joyous chorale. You might say this was the precursor to karaoke. Of the four of us, The Marquis was most in need of the assistance provided by the lyrics sheets. He could never remember the lyrics to any song. His version of Joy To The World included this opening line: "Joy to the world, and hear the angels sing, Arf! Arf!"
3. Surfin' U.S.A., The Beach Boys (Capitol Records, 1963). It was the year before the British Invasion. We were now living in Iowa. For the last two years I had been working at my first real job selling shoes in a discount department store, a position the Marquis lined up for me by lying to the store manager about my age. I had some money to spend. It was time to buy my first album. The two biggest American bands were the 4 Seasons and the Beach Boys. The latter's surf sound was appealing to me, notwithstanding the fact that not only had I never surfed but I had never even seen an ocean (unless you count New York City's East River). The first of the six Beach Boys singles to reach the Top 40 on the Billboard chart in 1963 was the title track from their second album, Surfin' U.S.A. The B-side of the single was Shut Down, a race car song lasting only 1:49. Despite its brevity, Shut Down got so much radio airplay that it charted independently, peaking at # 23. Instead of spending one dollar buying the single '45 with the two hit sides, I splurged by purchasing the entire album for $4, the going LP price in those days. That turned out to be a smart move as it enabled me to discover what is meant by a "deep cut." Farmer's Daughter, never released as a single, was my favorite tune on the platter.
4. Meet The Beatles!, The Beatles (Capitol Records, 1964). Including Meet The Beatles! undoubtedly runs afoul of Riemenschneider's admonition against picking an album which arguably deserves to be on every music fan's list of ten, but then how credible would it be to leave out the one album which meant the most to me throughout high school? I have written before (March 10, 2014) about the mid-winter scene when I first moved to Minot in January 1964. I can't overstate how the band impacted me. The LP's release also coincided, more or less, with my drumming exploits. I played along on my newly acquired kit with many of the Brit bands' albums and singles, but I kept coming back to this LP, practically wearing it out. As a drummer, my favorite tracks were I Saw Her Standing There and It Won't Be Long. Like many Beatles fans, I have purchased every album of theirs, read several books (including Lennon by Philip Norman) and even spent three days in Liverpool seeing the Fab Four sights (as recounted in my October 31 and November 12, 2016 posts).
5. Hear! Here!, The Hollies (Imperial Records, 1965). While in high school I never thought there'd be another band to rival my affection for the Beatles. Then I got to college and heard a South Bend band called the MRQ in concert in the Stepan Center (the "giant popcorn shaker," as labeled by Paul Stookey). They were an incredibly talented quintet comprised of musicians not much older than I. Their specialty was Hollies and Byrds songs which they played and sang to perfection, including three part harmony. The MRQ’s set list wasn't limited to just the hits, either. After hearing these boys from The Bend, I absolutely had to have as much Hollies music as I could find. Of the many Hollies LPs I accumulated over the years, Hear! Here!, the first one I bought, remains my favorite because almost every one of the twelve songs exhibits the supreme drumming chops of Bobby Elliott, my idol along with Foreigner's drummer, Dennis Elliott (no relation to my knowledge). Unheralded deep cuts You Must Believe Me, a Curtis Mayfield cover, and I've Been Wrong are two I've played over a hundred times. I have seen the Hollies three times in concert: once in their glory days at the Orpheum in downtown Minneapolis, once (if you can believe it) at the Burnsville Bowl, and in 2017 in their hometown, Manchester, England.
6. Greatest Hits, The Temptations (Gordy, 1966). I have tried to avoid selecting greatest hits albums for my list, but must capitulate here for at least three reasons. First, for many years the majority of albums in my collection were, in fact, greatest hits compilations. It was a surefire way to save money and be assured that there would not be any (or much) filler in the track list. Second, I love every single one of the twelve songs by the Temptin' Ts, my go-to group when I’m in the mood for Motown. Since I Lost My Baby is my favorite. I sing it on sunny days. (Momma Cuan often leaves the room.) Third, it gives me an opportunity to plug one of my earliest posts from February 6, 2012, Singing With The Temptations. I had a chance to see The Tempts in South Bend, circa 1967. They were only on stage for a half hour but it was perpetual motion. There was no interlude between songs as they segued from one hit to another. Silky smooth.
7. Eagles, The Eagles (Asylum, 1972). Classic rock is my favorite genre, and what better example to use than the Eagles? Their legion of fans worldwide numbers in the millions. Most of those folks would probably select Their Greatest Hits 1971-1975 or Hotel California for purposes of the Ten Albums Challenge. They rank respectively as the # 1 and # 3 best selling albums of all time in the United States. However, I have chosen the Eagles’ first album, the eponymous Eagles, because it is directly associated with two favorite personal memories. The first: When our kids were in grade school we took a family road trip to Arizona with our friends, the Cipolles. Our kids pleaded with us to allow them to ride in the Cipolles’ conversion van rather than our Plain Jane model. On our way home the two families hooked up at a McDonald's in Winslow, Arizona. Gina and Michael came up to me with exciting news. "You wouldn't believe it. Bob just played Take It Easy about six times in a row!" Of course, that's the Eagles song which contains the famous lyric, "Well I'm standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona." Years later on our second trip through Winslow we went downtown where a sculpture commemorating that song appropriately stands on a corner. The second: You might not have seen this on Entertainment Tonight, but in 1997 I made my karaoke debut in the hotel bar next to Mitchell Airport in Milwaukee. I had been wanting to try my hand at karaoke for some time, but I lacked the courage to do so until I was far away from home. I figured, "I'll never see these people again." After downing a couple of PBRs I had my three minutes of fame. The song I chose was Peaceful Easy Feeling which, along with Take It Easy, are on Eagles.
8. The Big Chill, Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (Motown, 1983). This selection is a perfect example of an entertaining movie (graded A- in my July 24, 2018 Quarterly Cinema Scan) partnering with an even more enjoyable soundtrack. There are only ten tracks and it's almost impossible to pick a favorite. (Okay, if you insist, Ain't Too Proud To Beg by the Temptations.) For an extra added treat, couple this album with its successor released in 1984, More Songs From The Original Soundtrack. An interesting tidbit is that neither album contains the Rolling Stones' You Can't Always Get What You Want, due to apparent licensing problems. That is unfortunate mainly because one of the best scenes in the film is a funeral service in which the decedent's friend plays that song on the chapel’s organ at his request. A Periolat family tradition, mirroring another scene in the movie, is to play the soundtrack as we are cleaning up after our Thanksgiving Day feast.
9. Lost Highway, Bon Jovi (Island Records, 2007). Listing my ten albums albums in chronological order -- a self-imposed rule -- puts me in a bind here. I only have room for one more since I know with certainty what LP goes in the final slot. As for the nine hole, do I go with Lost Highway or Jason Aldean's My Kinda Party? The latter contains Fly Over States which has particular appeal for someone like me who has lived in five different midwestern states. Do I need a country album to reflect my growing taste for that genre? Perhaps Lost Highway, which was recorded in Nashville and reveals the New Jersey rockers infusing a country flavor, is close enough. Bon Jovi has been a favorite of mine since the late eighties. I play my homemade thirty song Bon Jovi mix all the time. Tico Torres is a solid drummer whom I had the opportunity to watch closely when Momma Cuan and I had concert tickets which lined up directly to his side. The highlight of Lost Highway is the finest "dad song" I've ever heard, Walk Like A Man. For some unknown reason, that song only appears as a bonus track on the discs which were available in Target. Whoever made that marketing decision must not be a dad.
10. Born In The Way, Luke Warm & The Cool Hands (2013). Of all the live acts I've had the pleasure to see in person, L-Watch stands out for providing the most fun, having the most loyal multi-generational fan base, working hard at their blue grass craft, superb musicianship and creative song writing. They have played in packed venues all over town, and elsewhere. The atmosphere they create is electric. It's hard to believe their talented lead guitarist, Michael, is related to me. Since it's difficult for me to verbalize the sentiment, I hereby put it in writing for all to see: I am very proud of him. I would be remiss if I did not also tip my hat to the other guys: multi-instrumentalist Charlie, guitarist JP, lead vocalist Matty, and none other than Luke Warm himself, my son-in-law and bassist, Uncle Luke. They all deserve the success that has come their way. Favorite tunes? North American Pastoral is at the top of my list, but Fly The Coop and She Must Be Friends With Raccoons are not far behind. The band's second album, 2016's What Makes You Happy?, is likewise a winner. How could it not be when it includes the song Michael wrote for his two year old daughter, Winnie Jo?
