April 30, 2013
A Soundtrack for Shouldering
My taste in
music is eclectic; I blame my parents. I
was raised in a household where, while the primary music genre we heard was
country and western, there was nothing unusual about hearing Frank Sinatra,
Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis, and Nat King Cole all in the same day. I remember the day when I was eight or nine,
and a package arrived in the mail from Columbia House Records. Dad had apparently decided that we needed
some musical culture in the house and had ordered the Great Masterpieces of Classical Music, four or five giant LP’s that
were played so much that the phonograph needle eventually stuck in some of the
grooves. On a single day in our house we
might move from the melodic strains of The
Blue Danube to the pounding piano chords of Great Balls of Fire and on to Fats Domino’s Blueberry Hill without thinking that anything unusual had taken
place. Considering my musical upbringing, it’s not surprising that my playlist
for walking on the shoulder of the road is a mixed bag of styles and artists.
Initially,
I listened to audiobooks when I was walking.
I thought listening to a book would distract me from the physical
demands of the walk. The books were
enjoyable enough; I chuckled at Rachel Maddow’s snarky narration of her book, Drift, and the crazy premise of Abraham Lincoln Vampire Slayer kept me
totally entertained as well. I did quickly
discover, however, that I couldn’t listen to erotic romances. I kept slowing down and closing my eyes, not
a good idea on a four-lane highway.
My move
from audiobooks to a music playlist occurred by accident. On one of my walks, the audiobook I was
listening to failed, so, two miles into my route, I was forced to switch to a
recently created playlist. I discovered
that the music energized me, and I knocked several minutes off my total walking
time.
Creating a
playlist for my iPod was a newly acquired skill at that point. I got the idea after reading Fifty Shades of Grey. Yes, I know, lots of people got lots of ideas
after reading those novels, but one element of the books that I’ve never heard
discussed were the music references that occur throughout the trilogy. I investigated some of the titles and
discovered a gold mine of wonderful music, classical and pop. I tried my hand at setting up a playlist on
my computer, and the result was one list I called, Grey Tie Songs—the sensual, sexy ones—and another entitled, Classical Grey, a compilation of
breathtaking operatic and instrumental pieces.
At the same
time I was learning to create playlists, I discovered a website, walk.jog.fm, that provides a long list
of songs based on their beats per minute as a means of creating a more rigorous
walking program. The website included
titles of all different genres and time periods, and, while my playlist
includes plenty of familiar classic songs, thanks to the website, I
incorporated songs that were new and unfamiliar to me, even though some of them
had been released a number of years ago. These tunes and the groups who
performed them probably weren’t on my radar because I deemed them too young for
me or some of that weird music the kids were listening to—say that last part in
a crotchety, old geezer voice. Since I
only wanted musical pieces as background to my walk, I let go of any judgment
about my music and their music and just enjoyed.
The
Black-Eyed Peas are a perfect example. Of course, I knew who the Black-Eyed
Peas were. Heck, I even knew who
will.i.am and Fergie were, but I’d never really listened to their music. Now, Pump
It, Rock That Body, and Boom Boom Pow
are three of my favorite, most energizing songs to walk to. In the same way I would never have listened
to Green Day’s American Idiot or Fall
Out Boy’s Sugar We’re Goin Down
before the playlist; I love both songs. It
wasn’t Adam Levine’s antics on The Voice
that made me a fan; I came to appreciate him as he, and the rest of Maroon 5,
crooned in my ear that it was, “getting harder and harder to breathe.” Maybe feeling better about myself, physically
and mentally, has made it easier to move out of my rut; anyway, my internal
geezer is off in a dark corner somewhere waiting for me to come to my senses.
Some of the
songs appeal to me because they have distinctive beginnings that refocus my
attention on the road and help me maintain a lively walking pace. The opening chords of Joe Walsh’s Rocky Mountain Way always lead me to
include a little head banging motion and some air guitar while I step a little
quicker along the roadside. Although Roy
Orbison’s Pretty Woman and Justin
Timberlake’s Sexy Back certainly
aren’t contemporaneous tunes, the sensual, pounding start of each song causes
me to throw my chest out and add a little more swing in my backyard as I move
down the highway. And, when I hear the iconic opening notes of Grand Funk’s We’re an American Band, all I want to do
is yell, “More cowbell!” and pump my legs even faster.
I’m transported back in time by a lot of the
old tunes on my playlist. Peaches and
Herb’s disco classic, Shake Your Groove
Thing, makes me smile as I
remember being on the dance floor with friends, …bumpin’ booties, havin’ us a ball; while Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight and Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog call to mind steamy car windows and some heavy duty
make-out sessions in high school. And,
even though I’m outside walking on the highway, every time Born to be Wild begins to play, I swear I can smell a distinctive
aroma wafting through the air.
Some of my
favorite walking tunes are what I think of as “tough broad” songs. When I’m walking on the side of the road, and
Alannah Myles starts threatening to Rock
This Joint, I suddenly feel like I’m wearing a black, leather jacket and
motorcycle boots, and any bikers who hoot at me as they ride by get a curled
lip snarl because on the shoulder I’m as tough as she is. I’m able to tear up the hills faster with
more energy when Kelly Clarkson assures me that what doesn’t kill me makes me Stronger. And, whether it’s Carrie Underwood’s Cowboy Casanova, Shania Twain’s Any Man of Mine, or, even, Aretha Franklin’s
Respect, I figure, along with the
exercise, I’m getting some great relationship advice from gals who know what’s
what.
I’ve never fallen while walking—although, I
probably just jinxed myself—but I’ve come close on a couple of occasions when I
was unconsciously trying to dance and walk at the same time when the first guitar
chords of Footloose began to wail. Elton John’s You’re Sister Can’t Dance has the same effect on me. Two or three songs on the playlist, like
Gloria Estefan’s Conga and Ricky Martin’s
She Bangs fall into the Latin, salsa
genre that also make me want to dance. I
have to be on guard against allowing too much derriere swinging out on the
highway when those songs come on. Don’t want to distract any truck drivers.
I won’t let myself listen to the playlist
unless I’m walking, so I don’t get bored with it, and I’m always looking for new songs to include,
ones that have the requisite number of beats and, maybe, some sexy undertones.
But whether it’s the godfather of soul declaring to me that he feels good or
Carly Rae Jepsen pleading in her baby voice to “call me maybe,” I love every
number on my eclectic playlist.
