The Pizza Time Players from Showbiz Pizza are my earliest recollection of music, however vaguely. I'm sure I heard nursery songs long before that, but I didn't get hooked until I listened to Jasper Jowls, Pasqually, Mr. Munch, and Foxy Colleen singing bluegrass and Elvis (the details are fuzzy, but every time I think of them, I always seem to hear "Promised Land" or "Rocky Top" or "I Just Can't Help Believing"). I was about 4 years old. Showbiz went the way of the Atari 2600 and was replaced by Chuck E. Cheese.
Animatronics! Who wouldn't love Mr. Munch? That huge, purple haired vocalist in the Pizza Time Players! Makes me feel even more sorry for kids who had to grow up with Barney. OK, who would you like to have as your buddy? A purple shaggy dude named Mr. Munch who sings "Rocky Top"? or a purple, balding, flake named Barney who sings "I Love You?"
They always seemed to arrive on stage just as the pizza came to our table, which means I didn't have to worry about missing any pinball or Donkey Kong. I was mesmerized by them. They were larger than life, they were together, they were a true band! I would sit there frozen and awed. I didn't sing along, or dance, or nod at my friends. It was just me and the bears and pigs. This is most likely why I am not good at multi-tasking now. Once I'm captivated...
Actually, all of my childhood live-performance experiences seem to have involved watching a bunch of over-sized animals wearing clothes singing on a stage. Even when they were not. Opryland, Disney, Hawaii, Way Up North. Polynesian hula girls, Nutcrackers, the symphony. They were all fuzzy animals to me. Even now I imagine a tiny stage inside the Muzak machine, and the Pizza Time Players are there, light and all, playing all the music coming out of the speakers. And people say I'm out of touch.
Thus began the crazy saga of my life in music. My memories of my youth are frighteningly incomplete, but almost every one comes accompanied by a song. So my meandering forays into my past will be as well. Consider them semi-fictional.
You will likely read about my odd fixation with John Denver's "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" (considering my taste in music), my "Peanuts" era, my first deliverance into rock n' roll (perusing my brother's Cheap Trick and Billy Squire records), Pink Floyd with the flip-flop wearing kid, Led Zeppelin in the basement of my friend's house, Public Enemy and Tracy Chapman in the dorm, open jam blues and jazz after 21, Richie Hawtin and Speedy J and Kraftwerk with a bushy-sideburned Canadian, a love affair with Phantom of the Opera (and the girl who came with it), late night at the Courtyard with A.F.I., and a growing love for The Killers.
While reading is my soul-cleanser, music is my personal emotional tornado, whipping me up and tossing me from one time and place to another.
No comments:
Post a Comment