The Songs In My Head, A Story About Thinking Through Rock
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story has major focus on classic rock and their most prolific songs. If you do not know the first thing about classic rock, I suggest you do not continue, for most of the songs and albums mentioned are things that may sound foreign to you. However, if you are a fan of classic rock, then read. You may learn something.
I sat underneath an oak tree as I balanced my thoughts. Things were not going well for me at the time. I ripped my new shirt. I got a failing grade on my science project, and worst of all, I was embarrassed by Mr. Corrigan, the math teacher. He told me that I had dandruff. That was a swell bit of information to tell someone on a Friday. But now I was finally free of my imprisoned embarrassment. I was outside, ready to ponder anything possible. However, I could not get my own humiliation out of my mind. When I was depressed, I thought of songs and bands that could cheer me up. It always worked when I thought long enough about it. The image of Queen came into my head. Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon. Here came some of their songs. Bohemian Rhapsody from "A Night At The Opera", released 1975 appeared. One line stuck out the most for me.
"Nothing really matters." – Queen.
That line was a hopeless one. Even though I always believed that on the universal scale, nothing we do is important or impactful, I decided to move in the opposite direction. My own existentialism I did not want to acknowledge at that point in time. I needed to think of a more upbeat song. Something with a lot of notes, a lot of movement. Pretty soon I thought of Cream, Yes, and Black Sabbath. Then I focused on Cream, and on their first released album "Fresh Cream", from 1966. One song by Skip James really gave me a laugh.
"I'm so glad. I'm so glad. I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad!" – Cream.
Yeah, sure, I was a glad person at this point. It did make me feel better, though. The day was slowly fading away for me. All of troubles became a distant memory. No one can see me out here under this oak tree. That fact made me feel a whole lot better. However, I was not thinking of The Byrds at that point in time.
Because I was a major Beatles fan, I went through their albums in a chronological order, as I always did to pass the time. "Revolver" came into my head immediately. That was also from 1966, and one song rang true for everything I did at school.
"You tell me that you got everything you want, and your bird can sing, but you don't get me." – The Beatles.
No one really got me, or what I said. I always seemed to talk in an alien language that everyone simply dismissed. Many of the popular kids in my grade classified me as a "nerd" but I never had a motivation to read, play board games, brush up on my integral calculus, or anything nerd-related. I needed to turn away from that thought. I was here to calm myself down, and not to work myself up into a pulp again.
And sooner or later came the calming feeling of The Rolling Stones and their album "Sticky Fingers" from 1971, the year of Led Zeppelin IV and Master of Reality. The one song that struck out for me was Wild Horses, as it had that reassuring feel that everything will be fine.
"Wild, wild horses…we'll ride them someday…" – The Rolling Stones.
Sure, Keith Richards was writing about his crush, but the imagery in that song is something else. Then came another thought. The Kinks, Ray Davies, and Dave Davies. The Kinks released "Something Else" in 1967, and one of the songs had the same calming effect as the previous song I thought about. It was not as slow-paced as Wild Horses, but it did have that same reassuring feeling.
"As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset, I am in paradise." – The Kinks.
Well, I wasn't in Waterloo, but it was pretty close to a sunset. I guess I am close to paradise in any case. I am here all alone, all by myself, with nothing to annoy or bother me. The thoughts of Mr. Corrigan and my antagonists carefully flew away towards the hills. Two songs immediately entered my mind through that thought. One could say I think too fast, but I set my songs at the right pace so that I don't overload my memory and think of four hundred songs at the same time. I wouldn't be able to think if I did that! At any rate, here came the two songs. The first song was from Crosby, Stills, and Nash, from their debut album of the same name, released in 1969. It was their very first song on the album, and it was named Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.
"I've got an answer. I'm going to fly away. What have I got to lose?" – Crosby, Stills, and Nash.
If only I could do that. I could simply grow wings and fly out of my confined life. No more will I have to go my school to be ostracized. No more will I have to fritter away my free time for some work or chores that I have to do. Sadly, I will never have the power to grow wings and simply fly away. The depressing thought was counterbalanced by the raging chords of Led Zeppelin from "Houses of the Holy", released 1973. Over the Hills and Far Away readily came to mind.
"Many times I've wondered how much there is to know." - Led Zeppelin.
Knowing everything is a prospect that no one can attain. And I'm sure there is such thing as knowing too much. There is simply too much useless information out there to cloud our beliefs and dilute our mindsets. I'm one for learning new things but things that do not apply to real life processes I simply rule out or forget. I worry that I forget too much.
Now I needed to turn myself away from that thought! Luckily for me, I know way too many songs. Creedence-Clearwater Revival suddenly arrived in my mind. John Fogerty was a great writer from that band. I remember one song from "Cosmo's Factory", released in 1970, that reminded me going somewhere and thinking about whatever I wish to think.
"You can ponder perpetual motion. Fix your mind on a crystal day. Always time for good conversation, there's an ear for what you say." – Creedence-Clearwater Revival.
For me, that ear was nature itself, and no one else. Sure, I could ponder anything I wished to here. If only perpetual motion truly existed. I'm sure it does exist. It has as much chance as me not getting picked on by my math teacher.
I looked at my clock and it said half past five. I needed to get back home before my parents lose their minds. I had one final thought, though. That thought would get me thinking for the rest of the day and for the rest of the night as well. It was a lyric from Kansas, from the album "Point of Know Return", released in 1977. The line will haunt me for a very long time.
"All we are is dust in the wind." – Kansas.