When you read the title "Grandpa = Rocker" you may have pictured a gray haired old gentleman sitting on a front porch in the south, a small table with a glass of sweet tea, maybe an old red-bone hound laying at his feet. Or, depending on where you are from, you may have pictured that same gentleman sitting by a window, overlooking the city, passing the time with the TV on but not noticing it at all. You may have pictured those things, sure, but I am almost positive that you did not picture a sexagenarian blasting an eighties metal band on the radio when his grand kids came to visit!
You may think I am kidding, but that is what happened to me...sort of.
Well, first I think I should explain that Grandpa wasn't really 'blasting' the music. It wasn't so much 'blasting' as it was softly playing in the background. I equate my grandparent's house with music. It was on all the time. The only time the music wasn't playing was when the TV was on so Grandpa could watch golf in 'his' chair. Their living room was set up very much like All in the Family, complete with his and her easy chairs...but my grandfather's did not make it into the Smithsonian like Archie Bunker's did. When we played cards (a lot) the music was on. When I read the stack of Reader's Digests to absorb all the 'Humor in Uniform', 'Laughter the Best Medicine' and 'All in a Day's Work' the music played. When we ate, music. When we came in from playing outside, music. When we were hearing the benefits of having a refrigerator converted to be a keg cooler with built-in-tap out the side, music. It was always playing. On a few occasions we were even lucky enough to have Grandpa play us a few songs on his piano. He was very talented at playing classical music.
You wouldn't have thought that someone like that would have listened to metal. I'm here to tell you...it happened! There is no denying it. It is burned into my memory with an image that is like I looked at the sun too long. To add to the things that didn't make sense about this choice of music, it was being played on a very old fashioned stereo. Their ever-playing stereo was gigantic. It was a piece of furniture. It was a wooden case that had to be five feet wide. The front panels on either side held decorative mesh that allowed the sound to come out the biggest speakers I had ever seen. Although not quite as fancy as modern day, these speakers rivaled the size that kids put into their cars these days. You know, the ones who rattle windows with muffled base and make it so you have to go straighten all your pictures. The main unit and the electronics of the stereo (they called it a hi fi) were in the center of this giant wooden, and very well cared for, box. The way you adjusted the station, volume, band, or any other option was to lift the top panel.
You could put a decorative vase off to one side on this cabinet. You could put pictures on the other. But you could not put anything on top of the middle since, to open it, you needed to be able to lift it up. Well, you needed to be able to lift it up if you wanted to change anything...my grandpa's might have been nailed shut. I looked inside a few times (when he was getting into it) and I could see that everything was built in. This wasn't a giant cabinet that held a stereo...it was the stereo! Everything was built in and when it died beyond the ability to repair it (you see kids...way back when, there were people who actually fixed things that were broken and didn't just buy new ones) this was the kind of cabinet that people took all the guts out of to make a place to store liquor. I can neither confirm not deny that this cabinet suffered this fate at the hands of my family. At this point in my story, the stereo was very much functional.
I remember we were there at their house for what was probably an annual visit. No big occasion, just Mom going to see "her folks." I was in the kitchen playing solitaire (There were always cards on the table. If there was no partner to play gin or cribbage, you played solitaire) when I heard the music. It was the instrumental music that was the soundtrack to their house. I kept playing cards. This piece was done by a harpist and it was the slow melodic instrumental elevator music that was ever-present. At this point in the story it would have been hysterical if the radio station had been sold and the new owner wanted to not only change the format but punctuate the change by dragging the needle across the record and starting a new record that was designed to shock and amaze. This is not what happened. What did happen is that I started to recognize something in the music. I remember that it was one of those times when there was something familiar but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I rejected the notion that I was actually becoming familiar with this music. It was the early eighties! I did NOT listen to this music and you could not get me to admit that I did...even at my grandparents' house. And still...something made me listen to try to figure it out.
This is my version of harp music translated to the written word..."plunkplunk plunkplunkplunk...PLUNK plunkplunkplunk....plunkplunk PLUNK PLUNK PLUNK, PLUNK PLUNK PLUNNNNNK"
I kept listening. So familiar. I probably looked like the dog in the iconic RCA advertisement. Quizzical look on my face. Head cocked to the side. I was probably holding a single card in the air frozen in time trying to see if I could figure out what was up with this music. And then it hit me. I had heard this before. In fact, I was blasting it out the windows of my 1974 VW Super Beetle as I cruised into the parking lot at school the week before. The only difference was that my stereo, before it was stolen from my car, was tremendously powerful and I really was blasting it! I thought the stereo and the car that I had lovingly transformed from a literal wreck into a showpiece were hot stuff! There was no harp, however, playing on the stereo in my car though.
There, in the kitchen, I figured it out. They had taken a song that I listened to and removed all the vocals. They had taken away any hint of an electric instrument and replaced them all with a harp and a gentle piano accompaniment. They had slowed it down to probably quarter-speed to turn one of my favorite songs, at that time, into something suitable for an elevator...or my grandparents' house. So I sat there laughing hysterically not having the heart to tell them that they were, in fact, listening to Quiet Riot's "Come on Feel the Noize!"
You may think I am kidding, but that is what happened to me...sort of.
Well, first I think I should explain that Grandpa wasn't really 'blasting' the music. It wasn't so much 'blasting' as it was softly playing in the background. I equate my grandparent's house with music. It was on all the time. The only time the music wasn't playing was when the TV was on so Grandpa could watch golf in 'his' chair. Their living room was set up very much like All in the Family, complete with his and her easy chairs...but my grandfather's did not make it into the Smithsonian like Archie Bunker's did. When we played cards (a lot) the music was on. When I read the stack of Reader's Digests to absorb all the 'Humor in Uniform', 'Laughter the Best Medicine' and 'All in a Day's Work' the music played. When we ate, music. When we came in from playing outside, music. When we were hearing the benefits of having a refrigerator converted to be a keg cooler with built-in-tap out the side, music. It was always playing. On a few occasions we were even lucky enough to have Grandpa play us a few songs on his piano. He was very talented at playing classical music.
You wouldn't have thought that someone like that would have listened to metal. I'm here to tell you...it happened! There is no denying it. It is burned into my memory with an image that is like I looked at the sun too long. To add to the things that didn't make sense about this choice of music, it was being played on a very old fashioned stereo. Their ever-playing stereo was gigantic. It was a piece of furniture. It was a wooden case that had to be five feet wide. The front panels on either side held decorative mesh that allowed the sound to come out the biggest speakers I had ever seen. Although not quite as fancy as modern day, these speakers rivaled the size that kids put into their cars these days. You know, the ones who rattle windows with muffled base and make it so you have to go straighten all your pictures. The main unit and the electronics of the stereo (they called it a hi fi) were in the center of this giant wooden, and very well cared for, box. The way you adjusted the station, volume, band, or any other option was to lift the top panel.
You could put a decorative vase off to one side on this cabinet. You could put pictures on the other. But you could not put anything on top of the middle since, to open it, you needed to be able to lift it up. Well, you needed to be able to lift it up if you wanted to change anything...my grandpa's might have been nailed shut. I looked inside a few times (when he was getting into it) and I could see that everything was built in. This wasn't a giant cabinet that held a stereo...it was the stereo! Everything was built in and when it died beyond the ability to repair it (you see kids...way back when, there were people who actually fixed things that were broken and didn't just buy new ones) this was the kind of cabinet that people took all the guts out of to make a place to store liquor. I can neither confirm not deny that this cabinet suffered this fate at the hands of my family. At this point in my story, the stereo was very much functional.
I remember we were there at their house for what was probably an annual visit. No big occasion, just Mom going to see "her folks." I was in the kitchen playing solitaire (There were always cards on the table. If there was no partner to play gin or cribbage, you played solitaire) when I heard the music. It was the instrumental music that was the soundtrack to their house. I kept playing cards. This piece was done by a harpist and it was the slow melodic instrumental elevator music that was ever-present. At this point in the story it would have been hysterical if the radio station had been sold and the new owner wanted to not only change the format but punctuate the change by dragging the needle across the record and starting a new record that was designed to shock and amaze. This is not what happened. What did happen is that I started to recognize something in the music. I remember that it was one of those times when there was something familiar but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I rejected the notion that I was actually becoming familiar with this music. It was the early eighties! I did NOT listen to this music and you could not get me to admit that I did...even at my grandparents' house. And still...something made me listen to try to figure it out.
This is my version of harp music translated to the written word..."plunkplunk plunkplunkplunk...PLUNK plunkplunkplunk....plunkplunk PLUNK PLUNK PLUNK, PLUNK PLUNK PLUNNNNNK"
I kept listening. So familiar. I probably looked like the dog in the iconic RCA advertisement. Quizzical look on my face. Head cocked to the side. I was probably holding a single card in the air frozen in time trying to see if I could figure out what was up with this music. And then it hit me. I had heard this before. In fact, I was blasting it out the windows of my 1974 VW Super Beetle as I cruised into the parking lot at school the week before. The only difference was that my stereo, before it was stolen from my car, was tremendously powerful and I really was blasting it! I thought the stereo and the car that I had lovingly transformed from a literal wreck into a showpiece were hot stuff! There was no harp, however, playing on the stereo in my car though.
There, in the kitchen, I figured it out. They had taken a song that I listened to and removed all the vocals. They had taken away any hint of an electric instrument and replaced them all with a harp and a gentle piano accompaniment. They had slowed it down to probably quarter-speed to turn one of my favorite songs, at that time, into something suitable for an elevator...or my grandparents' house. So I sat there laughing hysterically not having the heart to tell them that they were, in fact, listening to Quiet Riot's "Come on Feel the Noize!"
we had that hi-fi too. and before that a record player, so small the 78s hung over the side. the folks loved music. strong vocals drew them in. for my part, folk, blues, then just about anything even opera.
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