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From Dec. 6, 1999 |
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Today's music stirs the feet,
but maybe not the loins
of TheColumnists.com
While driving a long distance on California highways the other day, I was suddenly stuck in one of those freaky zones where there was nothing on the car radio but cowboy music, hip-hop, rap and about twenty different salesmen shouting commercial messages in Spanish.
"I guess young people have to turn off the radio if they want to make out these days," I remarked to my wife, who was frantically punching the "scan" button, searching for something we both could tolerate.
We come from the generation that liked to "make out" to background music, but that’s probably because our generation actually still had genuine music that didn’t cause frigidity and impotence the moment you turned it on.
That got me to thinking about the decline and fall of western civilization again, which I now believe may have something to do with music. I don’t think civilized people can make the proper kind of love if the music in the background causes the synapses in your brain to short out. I suppose involuntary spasms of the nervous system actually can enhance the physical act of love once you’re heading for the finish line, but I don’t think they help a lot when you’re trying to get her in the mood.
Anyway, that notion started me ruminating on the subject of "make out" music, which used to come on long-playing records or very mellow FM radio stations in the romantic era of my youth, the late 1950s and early 1960s.
Back then, when I was a
perpetually randy journalism undergraduate at San Jose State,
I had the great good fortune to spend an evening "making
out" with a spectacular young woman I’ll call "Glenda"
while her favorite "make-out" record set the pace for
us on the stereo.
It wasn’t a Sinatra LP from his romantic postwar period
nor was it the latest album of silky serenades by Johnny Mathis,
who was then considered very au courant. It wasn’t
even that mushy "make-out" favorite of all coeds of
the time: Scotch & Soda by the Kingston Trio. No,
this young lady favored The Israel Symphony by Cesar Franck.
I mean, she really got into it bigtime–and she wasn’t
even Jewish!
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make you feel as if you could dance all night long in the moonlight? |
Back then, I had no idea how advanced "Glenda" was over her peers. I’m now confident she was like two decades ahead of her time. It wasn’t until 1979 that "making out" to classical music became chic, right after Bo Derek and Dudley Moore did it to the rhythmic refrain of Ravel’s Bolero in the movie 10.
Later, when I bragged to my roommates about how much I’d stirred her passions, one fellow who had a little prior experience with "Glenda" quickly straightened me out.
"It wasn’t you," he said. "It was the music. If you thought Cesar Franck made her hot, you should have put on a Bix Beiderbeck solo–and then tried to hold onto her."
Naturally, I rushed out to get both Cesar Franck and Bix Beiderbeck records for my "makeout" collection, but soon discovered they did absolutely nothing for the rest of the female species. Live and learn, right?
Well, I’ve been learning ever since. The right mood music can do a lot for an evening of love, but there’s no accounting for taste. I once knew a woman who liked to make out to a Lenny Bruce comedy album. I can still recall her eyes squinting down with wicked pleasure that had nothing to do with her current partner. Go figure that one. If any guy tried to whisper some of those same words in her ear, she’d have put a hammerlock on him and called him a pig.
Another of my roommates made his own amazing discovery in the "make-out music" field: There are girls who get all worked up listening to gospel music. He had a Harry Belafonte gospel album that worked wonders for him. The morning after, he always went around saying "Praise the Lord!"
This always stumped me. For me, gospel was the musical equivalent of a cold shower. I couldn’t imagine any date of mine loosening up to the strains of The Old Rugged Cross or something like that. I figured it would be as romance-inducing as having somebody whispering "sinner" in your ear every time you made a move.
But I borrowed my roommate’s Belafonte gospel album once to see how it might go over with my girl friend. Unfortunately, I must have grabbed the wrong album because no sooner did I get the lights turned down low and the pillows lined up right than out comes Belafonte yelling for the tally-man to tally his bananas. No magic there.
I must confess that it rarely worked for me to put on the albums that made me feel romantic. I favored the Dave Brubeck Quartet. I don’t think I ever heard anything sexier than Paul Desmond playing Audrey on the sax with Brubeck’s gentle piano riffs in the background. But the girls always told me they thought it made guys too "progressive" while making out. They were probably right. Maybe that’s why they called it "progressive jazz."
The girl I finally married was a sucker for old show tunes, especially when sung by Fred Astaire. Her favorite was always Isn’t It A Lovely Day to Be Caught in the Rain. She liked it best, of course, on those rainy days when we were caught in front of a roaring fireplace. My favorite from the Fred Astaire songbook always was No Strings. I liked the message. Maybe it was a guy thing.
To this day, I wonder what people use for "make-out music" in the rural South. All the songs in that part of the country seem to be about getting drunk or having your heart broken. But then I guess they go on lots of hayrides and stuff like that, so maybe the music isn’t all that important.
In the 1960s and 1970s, romance seemed to kind of slip away on us. I went to a couple of those "human be-ins" where people got high and rolled around on top of each other while somebody pounded his bongo. I guess it became more important for the music to get louder and the beat more repetitive so people could follow it while in a purple haze. Peer pressure must be terrible for any guy who tunes in an "easy listening" station before "making out."
Anyway, there isn’t much romance left in contemporary music, so maybe nobody actually "makes out" anymore in the classic style. If they follow the lead of today’s music, I suppose they just get to it and start grinding away to the same kind of beat you might hear in your aerobics class. If that’s progress, you know where you can put it.
Copyright 1999 by Ron Miller.
The illustrations are from IMSI's Master/Clips Collection, 1895
Francisco Blvd. East, San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
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