Wouldn’t It Be Nice...

 Wouldn’t It Be Nice... 

It’s been a very long time since I’ve been a teenager, but I kind of traveled back the other day.  I heard that the fiftieth anniversary (it’s actually 58 years) of the recording of the Beach Boys’ “Pet Sounds” had rolled around and, although I was never a fan, I bought it.  The hype was that “Pet Sounds” was their best.  It was likened to the Beatles (I was a big Beatles fan) “Sargent Pepper...”  The Fab Four and the Beach Boys were the two biggest selling pop bands in the world then, 1966.  But I didn’t really expect much from “Pet Sounds”.  Look, I was a Midwest kid (still am....Midwest, that is).  Beaches, surfboards, etc. Weren't native to me. 

But I was wrong.    

I mostly listen to CDs in the car these days.  The other day I took a ride up to Indy and slipped the first of the two disks (the anniversary edition of “Pet Sounds” has two CDs with several different recordings of the original) into the player.  The first half of that disk is the Mono version of the original.  The 14th track on, is the same, but in stereo.  That’s the socks knocker-offer version.  I literally said, “Wow!”  out loud... and there was no one else in the car.  I listened to the whole recording but I really didn’t need to hear more than the first cut.  “Wouldn't It Be Nice" was the song that transported me back to high school, back to dating, back to those days of angst, of searching, of rebelling.  The song is about a wish; that a high school kid and his girl wouldn’t have to wait so long to be together and that they could live in a world in which they belonged.  Love and alienation in a couple of lyrics.  I played the CD a few times up to Indy and back, couldn’t get that first tune out of my head.   

The words were the message, but the production drove it home.  I realized that when I heard The Beach Boys sing that song live, in concert.  I’m no mavin, but the studio production is perfection, the live recording is just the group singing the song.  That studio production is a layer cake of sweet music.  If you listen, you’ll hear layer upon layer of harmonies, of responses within the group, of musical accompaniment that must have taken a tremendous amount of mixing to create.  It’s kind of perfect. 

As a jazz fan, I always preferred live in-concert recordings to studio recordings.  Not this time.  But I didn’t pay any attention to the technology of “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” the first time I heard it.  It was the message, it was the tone, it was the drama.  It certainly was a high school kid talking to me and, maybe even about me.  

                                                                                                            (over) 

 

 

If you get a chance, put on your earbuds, dial up Pandora or Spotify, and give a listen.  I think you’ll understand what I mean.  And even if you’re not taken back to those raucous heart-breaking teen years, you’ll hear a great song. 

Wouldn’t that be nice. 

Ron 

The Band Has Always Been Together

 The Band Has Always Been Together 

In the movie The Blues Brothers, John Belushi says, “We’re puttin’ the band back together.”  I’m lucky to be in a sort of band that is always together...and sometimes we even get to play some music together.  We had occasion to play together twice this summer.  Our play is strictly amateur, never rehearsed, spontaneous, and %100 fun.  It’s folk music, guitars, one banjo, and, believe it or not, one accordion.  It’s three rabbis, a doctor, and one professional Jewish musician.  Sometimes we sound pretty good (mostly when I just play banjo and don’t sing). 

Each summer, when Danny Nichols comes to play and teach at our Goldman Union Camp Institute, I am invited to camp to do a hootenanny for a staff Oneg (late Friday-night program).  This summer, I was surprised; the camp also invited my buddies, Rabbi Jim Bennett and Dr. Lee Freedman to come and play.  Since Rabbi Sandford Kopnick was already at camp; the band was complete.  Along with the camp song leaders, several faculty members and all of the staff and Avodahnikim, we played and sang long into the night.  It was super.  I’ll not forget that night.  (Note the picture of us below, playing on the Tochnit, the front porch of the dining hall) 

It is unusual for us to get together twice in one summer, but we had the chance later, here in Bloomington, IN.  I played weekly, all of these twelve years that we have lived in Bloomington, with my neighbor, George Walker.  George and Carolyn are parents of former campers and staff members Ben and Erin Walker, so we knew each other long before Juca and I moved here.  It just turned out, by accident, that we moved a few doors down from the Walkers.  George was the radio director of our local public station’s classical program for over 40 years.  He was also an encyclopedia of folk music.  I loved our weekly sessions and George taught me a lot.   When the band had the chance to get together here just for an overnight visit with each other, I jumped at the opportunity for us all to play at George and Carolyn’s house.  Carolyn agreed.  To top it off (we didn’t know at the time) it turned out to be their wedding anniversary as well. 

Well, we had a rousing 90-minute hootenanny that Sunday afternoon.  Lots of smiles all around.  It was nice to play with the ‘band of buddies’, but it was especially nice to sing with Carolyn and George. 

So, two gigs this summer.  You couldn’t make a living out of it, but it sure gives me a lot of life. 

Ron 

 

 

A few weeks after that hootenanny, George passed away.  Here’s what I said at the funeral. 

 

Ladies and Gentlemen. 

I’m not surprised to see so many in attendance here this morning... to honor the memory of George Walker.   George was a light unto his friends and family, and his community.  

 He was a spark that shined in a world that so needed his light. Our sages taught nearly 2,000 years ago that one should “ASAY LECHA RAV, V’CONEI LECHA CHAVER.”  Loosely translated, “Make for yourself a Rabbi (teacher), and Acquire for yourself a friend.  Putting RABBI and FRIEND on an equal status. Well, I was never George’s rabbi, but, by god, I was lucky to be his friend. 

I met George and Carolyn many years ago when they dropped off their children for a summer at the camp I directed in Zionsville, Indiana.  Over the years I met them twice a summer, drop off day and pick up day at the Goldman Union Camp.  We were acquaintances. When their kids became camp staff members, we saw more of each other.   But it just so happened... that twelve years ago my wife and I retired and moved south, 50 miles, to Bloomington, two houses down the street from the Walkers.  And we shared our membership in this synagogue, Beth Shalom. So, we became friends.  

Since we moved here, George and I have had a musical relationship.  Most people know of his amazing legacy as the host of WFIU, our public radio station’s morning classical music program.  George presented that program and much more for 45 years, longer than any other public radio program in the history of, well, history.  But We shared a different genre of music.  George was an encyclopedia of FOLK MUSIC.  He played guitar and sang.  I play banjo and hold back on the singing.  Well, for twelve years we met once a week to play and sing American folk songs.  George had a wealth of folk music knowledge.  I’d say, “Let’s play X,” and George would know who wrote the song, when it was recorded and what artists had recorded it.   

Sometimes we talked about things more than we played.  Our Rabbis wrote in the Talmud, over 1,000 years ago, “I have learned much from my teachers, but from my friends more than my teachers.”  George and I learned many things from each other. 

The Rabbis also said, “Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.”  I think they were talking about George Walker, who will be impossible to forget.  A SPARK IS GONE FROM OUR WORLD.  A WORLD THAT NEEDS ALL OF THE SPARKS IT CAN GET. May George’s memory be a blessing. 

Amen