As we were walking across the parking lot to the theater the other day (with other theater patrons fore and aft) Johnny broke into song. Not an unusual occurrence; this time it was “Moves Like Jagger” by Maroon 5.
Now, I have some doubts and a good dose of parental guilt about letting my children listen to this song in the first place. So, to assuage said guilt and make me look a little less like Ms. Trailer Park 2011, he could’ve gone for the innocuous second verse: “Maybe it’s hard when you feel like you’re broken and scarred – nothing feels right. But when you’re with me I’ll make you believe that I’ve got the key.”
But did he?
Instead dear John busted out with the chorus, that old standard lullaby that every 8-year-old knows:
“Take me by the tongue and I”ll know you.* Kiss me till you’re drunk and I’ll show you all the moves like Jagger, I’ve got the moves like Jagger….”
*(I’m pretty sure Adam means this in the Biblical sense.)
So either my family is ultra-liberal and wildly, painfully hip, or I should be wearing ass-revealing denim cutoffs, no bra under my Harley Davidson tank top and no shoes, chain-smoking while a baby (clad only in a diaper) crawls around on the ground playing with empty beer cans.
All part of our mystique, I guess.
I wonder how many times over the course of my lifetime I will fall in love with John Lennon.
It happens a lot.
I am the ultimate Beatles/Lennon fan. But sometimes real life overtakes me. I never entirely stop listening to the lads but they are, occasionally, pushed to the back burner. Once in a while it’s because I’m listening to something new that grabs my attention but, most often, I’ve pulled away from music, in general, while I deal with that bloody nuisance people call “reality”. The Beatles are still there, cropping up on my iPod, peering at me in some form in just about every room in my house, but the hippie-dippy spiritual connection-type stuff fades away. It isn’t lost – more like forgotten. I reach a saturation point, I think, where I have heard the songs so many times that I cease to really listen and they simply become noise. Well-loved noise….but noise, nonetheless.
But then, one day, a song of theirs will come on and, out of the blue, suddenly: I remember. I remember how and why all this started in the first place. I recognize, afresh, their genius. I notice subtle nuances I had begun to overlook. And I fall in love all over again.
Tonight was one of those nights. I’ve been in a phase where John has been removed from my immediate thoughts for quite some time. I went out to run an errand and queued up my iPod in the car. The first song up was “I Feel Fine” and as I heard John singing….it clicked. I have been feeling very blue the past week and, as a result, very tense. Listening to John’s voice I felt the tension draining away. I could wax philosophical about it but probably never do it justice. It’s oh, so much more than just “listening to music I enjoy.” His voice is the missing piece in my dysfunctional jigsaw puzzle of a soul. I hate that I forget that sometimes but I think I have to in order to truly appreciate what he/they mean to me when I come back to them. And I always come back to them.