THE INFLUENCERS PART 3 (WEST CHESTER)

The third and final post about my music influencers:

1971 Roundabout Yes Billy Martin

Roundabout Lyrics

I'll be the roundabout The words will make you out and out I spend the day your way Call it morning driving through the sound And in and out the valley

The music dance and sing They make the children really ring I spend the day your way Call it morning driving through the sound And in and out the valley

In and around the lake Mountains come out of the sky and they stand there One mile over we'll be there and we'll see you Ten true summers we'll be there and laughing, too 24 before my love you'll see I'll be there with you

I will remember you Your silhouette will charge the view Of distant atmosphere Call it morning driving through the sound And even in the valley

In and around the lake Mountains come out of the sky and they stand there One mile over we'll be there and we'll see you Ten true summers we'll be there and laughing, too 24 before my love you'll see I'll be there with you

Along the drifting cloud The eagle searching down on the land Catching the swirling wind The sailor sees the rim of the land The eagles dancing wings Create as weather spins out of hand

Go closer hold the land Feel partly no more than grains of sand We stand to lose all time A thousand answers by in our hand Next to your deeper fears We stand surrounded by a millions years

I'll be the roundabout The words will make you out and out I'll be the roundabout The words will make you out and out

In and around the lake Mountains come out of the sky and they stand there 24 before my love and I'll be there

I'll be the roundabout The words will make you out and out You spent the day your way Call it morning driving through the sound And in and out the valley

In and around the lake Mountains come out of the sky and they stand there One mile over we'll be there and we'll see you Ten true summers we'll be there and laughing, too 24 before my love you'll see I'll be there with you

Billy was privileged. And gifted. Picture a young man cast in the mold of a Saturday Night Fever version of John Travolta: tall, thin, Italian, complete with holy chin; missing but wishing for the Brooklyn accent. Missing and not seeing that he was NOT John Travolta. Missing and not seeing that he was NOT a lot of things. When Billy played his keyboard or his bass he became. He and I would listen to songs over and over trying to force the talent into our fingers to no avail. Poor Roundabout was probably our most frequent victim.

1974 Summer Madness Kool and the Gang Mark Wilson

Mark was a whistler and like me, was probably infected with whistling by his dad. He was also a member of a gifted musical family. He perfected many styles and techniques of whistling: through his teeth; with and without vibrato; old-man imitating; warbling. He whistled while he worked in art class and I was often curious what the songs were. I never asked him directly because that would have been in direct violation of high school masculinity regulations him being a year ahead of me and all. Rather, I was able to one-by-one figure them out just by hanging out with him over summer break or after school. The thing was, he never whistled an entire song but just the catchy bits which actually made them easier to identify. For Summer Madness the catchy bit Mark whistled through his teeth was this.

1979 Comfortably Numb Pink Floyd Jane Mehta

Comfortably Numb Lyrics

Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me Is there anyone home?

Come on now I hear you're feeling down Well, I can ease your pain And get you on your feet again

Relax I'll need some information first Just the basic facts Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain, you are receding A distant ship, smoke on the horizon You are only coming through in waves Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying When I was a child, I had a fever My hands felt just like two balloons Now I've got that feeling once again I can't explain, you would not understand This is not how I am

I have become comfortably numb

I have become comfortably numb

Okay Just a little pinprick There'll be no more But you may feel a little sick

Can you stand up? I do believe it's working, good That'll keep you going through the show Come on, it's time to go

There is no pain, you are receding A distant ship, smoke on the horizon You are only coming through in waves Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse Out of the corner of my eye I turned to look, but it was gone I cannot put my finger on it now The child is grown, the dream is gone

I have become comfortably numb

There's a line in the song Time by Pink Floyd that goes, "Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way" that used to make me chuckle when thinking about Jane. Her bedroom walls had iconic Queen and Elton John posters -- whom we neither discussed nor listen to -- alongside Pink Floyd and Genesis posters whose music we incessantly played and debated. Her music preferences were drenched in cynicism and mistrust even though Jane was neither cynical nor untrusting. She was ambitious. Perhaps music was a tool for her: a reminder of real-world monsters she would soon be facing. And slaying. The influence of Pink Floyd introduced to me by Jane continues to serve me well to this day.

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