When I heard Kenny Chesney sing "Me and You" back in the 90's, I got turned back on to country music, and I also turned the radio on once again. I hated rap, hip-hop, and all that other noise they were calling music, but I wanted to listen to the radio. Kenny got me turned on, once again.
When I was growing up, country music was called either bluegrass or hillbilly music, and everyone who heard either of those two terms knew exactly what they meant. One was down home instrumental music with great emphasis on the banjo and lots of pickin', and hillbilly simply meant singers with a twang and lots of nasality. Think Hank Williams, Sr., Hank Snow, George Jones, Webb Pierce, a young Dolly Parton, Porter Wagner, Skeeter Davis, Kitty Wells, Ernest Tubb, Lefty Frizzell. Even the names fit the mode.
The Appeal of a Single Record
I am sitting here looking at a stack of 45rpm records, which fortunately I can still play. I really feel sorry for the folks today who have
never had the experience of buying, playing and enjoying those wonderful old records. I used to have a player that would hold up to 20 of these round goodies,and they dropped one at a time, and the arm would plop on the surface and play the record.
They were a great improvement over the old 78rpm records because the 78’s broke much too easily. (Although I have been known to play some cracked and broken ones in my day, I can tell you it did nothing for needle life!) I guess, for all the newbies, I should say that the records were played by a cartridge arm to which you would supply a needle from time to time. The needle moving in the groove produced the sound. If for some reason you scratched the surface or let it get dirty, then the sound
would include surface noises…or little clicks if the record happened to have a tear in it somewhere, which happened frequently. These records could also be stacked on a turntable, which then dropped each record in turn when the previous one finished playing. After the last groove, the arm would pick itself up, move
to the side, drop the next record, and then the needle arm would plop on to the surface and play the record, but I have also seen that drop cause a break in a record…rare, but it did
It’s me, and here I am again. After writing the book, “My ‘Secret Love’ Affair with Doris Day”, you probably think I have nothing left to say. WRONG. I should think that after 75 years of hard living, I would have lots to say…and I do. This blog will cover everything from soup to nuts, so to speak, but will deal primarily with things I know or have experienced.
Yes, I know I wrote a book, and I hope most of you have read it by now. If not, why not? The proceeds go to the DDAF, and you can take that off your taxes and get a good read at the same time. (These can also make some nice Christmas presents!) Did I hear you say “for older folks”? Nah..for anyone! A lot can be learned…some folks will even discover Doris for the first time!
Mike DeVita makes his home in Baltimore, Maryland, where he has lived for most of his life.