Mood Stabilizer

 Song 770: This week the playlist puts the spotlight on Lithium by Nirvana, written by Kurt Cobain, and you can find a cool YouTube video of it by clicking on the title. When this single arrived in the summer of 1992, I thought it sounded good, but it didn't grab my attention the way a couple of other Nirvana ones did - one before, called Come as You Are (Song 513), and one after, called Heart-Shaped Box (Song 200). When the Cobain suicide story unfolded two years after it came along, I still had no understanding of the pain that people on the low end of bipolar disorder suffer, and at the time, I disparaged Kurt as another cry-baby junkie. I suspected that the tune's title actually slyly admitted Mr. KC's prescription, and his later actions might have indicated the drug's inadequacy at helping the problems in his head. Understanding these mental dynamics now way more than I did then, I get how a guy could be so happy, so ugly, so lonely, so excited and so horny. On a side note, if you'd like to know more about these mental conditions, I share my own experience of learning about them in my book Expecting the Broken Brain to Do Mental Pushups, and you can get a copy from Amazon of the latest edition of it by clicking on the title.

Bipolar Disorder

 Song 769: This week the playlist comes around to Manic Depression by the Jimi Hendrix Experience, written by Jimi, and you can find a YouTube video of it by clicking on the title. Jimi included this gem in his first released album, which arrived in the U.S. in the late summer of 1967, but I would not get to hear the tune until I bought the record in the fall of 1970. I first encountered the term in the song's title two years earlier, soon after the beginning of my senior HS year, and what I read at the time was that those with the condition tended to make mountains out of molehills. My first thought in reaction to that phrase was that everyone does that to some extent, and I saw no reason to give any further attention to the ailment. When I got Jimi's album, I gave it lots of spins on the turntable, and I liked all of what I heard, including this diagnosis, but I wondered if Mr. Hendrix was playing a word game with the term. I knew that we songwriters sometimes do that, so I didn't necessarily connect him with the condition in the piece. When, three decades later, I got to the point of having to understand the nature of that problem, I thought it quite likely that he did have bipolar disorder. Then, about another decade later, as I figured out the connection between the manic phase and a charismatic quality that manic types sometimes exude, seeing video footage of JH performing made it clear to me that Manic Depression had indeed captured his soul. If you'd like to know more about manic depression/bipolar disorder, I share my own experience of learning about it in my book Expecting the Broken Brain to Do Mental Pushups, and you can get a copy from Amazon of the latest edition of it by clicking on the title.

Required Downpour

 Song 768: This week the playlist applauds Rain Must Fall by Queen, who also wrote the song, and you can find a YouTube video of it by clicking on the title. My final playlist tune for April of this year has a title that gets said a lot in my region during this month. Back when Queen started to give us all a forecast about necessary precipitation in May of 1989, I had returned to the East Coast the previous September, after having spent a decade in the East Bay. In that area, the rainy season would have ended by May, but in NYC, the record's timing seemed quite appropriate. At that point, I had joined the Fast Folk circle, and I spent more time listening to my folkie colleagues than I did tuning into the radio, but certain airwave sounds would still get my attention. Back then, some folks did seem to think that others were over-dramatizing problems at work, whereas now, a lot less workers have the position to call the shots, and even for the few that do have it, into every life a little rain must fall.

Spring Arrival

 Song 767: This week on the playlist you can hear April Come She Will by Simon & Garfunkel, written by Paul Simon, and you can find a YouTube video of it by clicking on the title. This positive prediction came along during the frigid months of my freshman HS year, giving us all a good reason to anticipate the expected arrival of moderate climate in the spring of 1966. While I might have heard it a few times on the radio, the main place I got to hear it was at my best friend's house. My close buddy Ed had become a big fan of the folkie duo and he had acquired all of their LPs, so whenever I would visit him during our HS years, as I often did, he would spin all of those 33s on his turntable. As a result, I soon got very familiar with their entire collection of captivating musical adventures, to the point that I could have sung along with a foresight about how a romantic partner would come during a certain warming time frame, would stay the following month and then change her tune a month later, so that when the hot weather arrived, she would fly.

Whirled Imagination

 Song 766: Seven weeks after my previous personal friend song post, this week's fanned forecast Windblown Mind comes from my top CA partner Jeff Larson, who also wrote the song, and you can find a YouTube video of it by clicking on the title. During my decade in the East Bay, I mainly hung out with the Berkeley singer/songwriter circle, but I had one other close musical buddy that I hooked up with about a year after I hitch-hiked into the area. We saw each other do a set on a San Francisco stage and we each liked what we heard the other do, so we soon developed a chummy musical camaraderie, and we briefly became a melodic duo. I think I first heard him do this tune in 1983 or 1984, and I liked what I heard. However, I also had a song with that title and some similar lines, so I decided to change mine to Windblown Rhymes, which I included on my 1985 cassette Going My Way. Even four decades ago, I already knew I would have no way to find all the strays I've left behind, and that list has gotten a lot longer since then, but I still might at some point hear a sound to set me free.

Extended Breezy Dame

 Song 765: This week the playlist recognizes Long Cool Woman by the Hollies, written by Allan Clarke, Roger Cook and Roger Greenaway, and you can find a YouTube video of it by clicking on the title. Fifty-two years ago this month, as a U.K. quintet started informing listeners about a lengthy crispy female, my romance with a cool woman began another chapter, though I would not have called her long - she was about an inch-and-a-half shorter than me, so that made her three inches shorter than the tune's chilly star. While at the time I did enjoy singing along with the title, I don't think I had any idea back then about the piece's law enforcement TV show narrative. I never saw a pair of 45's that were weapons, since I never went to a bootlegging boozer on the west side, or anywhere else. The 45s that I knew about during that era were discs, NOT pistols.

Want to Make Rhythmic Moves?

 Song 764: This week the playlist puts the spotlight on Do You Wanna Dance? by The Mamas and The Papas, written by Bobby Freeman, and you can find a YouTube video of it by clicking on the title. The Mamas and The Papas had roped me in during the spring of 1966 with their chart topper about the first work day of the week. I had struggled for over two years to try to avoid the devil's music if possible because of my family's religious disapproval of it, but when that Monday, Monday (Song 302) saga came along, I could no longer resist the captivating sounds. A few months later, when my family went to visit my father's relatives in Ohio, we spent one night staying with his brother and family, as we usually did. However, this time around, the place had a very different appearance. My father's brother had built the home's basement many years before, and previously when we visited, we stayed in that basement along with all of his family, but since our trip two years earlier, he had finally constructed a very impressive two-story house on top of that basement. On this visit, at a certain point, my cousin welcomed me into his nice new bedroom and put his If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears LP on his turntable. I relished hearing the whole record, which included this pleasing question. Of course, I could never admit to anyone in my family, other than my younger brother, that I might wanna dance, because fundamentalists also disparaged that activity as a sinful move, and you could only make romance and squeeze a lover all through the night after you had a legal wedding that the church approved.