Day 12: Mother

If I ever do finish writing the memoir about my music fandom, I will have to acknowledge the influence of my mother in my origin story. 

Our parents had a modest but fascinating record collection when we were kids, largely dominated by folk music from the 60s and 70s and Broadway musical cast recordings. But mixed in with all of that dated material were a few albums that seemed out of place. As we got older, that became more frequent. The Saturday Night Fever soundtrack brought disco into our house, which inspired either me or one of my sisters to buy a Bee Gees album. The Urban Cowboy soundtrack is probably the closest I’ve ever come to willingly listening to country music, even though I was more drawn to the songs by the likes of Joe Walsh and Bob Seger, before I had any idea who they were. 

Mom probably kickstarted my record collecting the day she came home with a vinyl copy of “Paradise Theater” by Styx, and album she’d bought because it had that pretty song from the radio, “The Best of Times.” Sure, pretty song, whatever, but there was a good supply of early 80s rock on it as well, which was enough to elevate Styx to being the first band I was calling my favorite.

Not long after she did the same thing, buying Journey’s “Escape” album because of the pretty songs “Who’s Cryin’ Now” and “Open Arms.” I personally think “Who’s Cryin’ Now” is one of Journey’s weakest, laziest songs, but the rest of Escape is undeniably a great album. I couldn’t stop listening to it. I stared at the album cover long enough that I could draw a fair approximation of it on the inside cover of most of my notebooks at school. 

Mom liked Survivor’s song “Eye of the Tiger,” so that album made it into my parents’ collection (even though I’m certain my dad never played it even once himself). Survivor was just this side of being a one hit wonder, but it was a noisy guitar album and had some great songs. Once the dam had broken from Styx and Journey, I started paying more attention to the music my junior high friends were talking about, which at the time was basically AC/DC and REO Speedwagon. When I started buying music on my own, I’d go for the whole album instead of just buying a single. I’d already seen how deeper album cuts could turn out to be some of the best songs on a record. I figured if I liked the band enough from one song, they’d probably have a few other good ones as well. 

If it wasn’t enough that she’d already modeled for me a lifetime of buying albums for one or two songs, she also ushered in my 15th year by bringing me to my first two concerts. She brought me, my older sister, and our cousin to see Styx on my 15th birthday, and Journey with Bryan Adams as the opening act about a month later. The Styx show was magical for me since it was my first concert, even though the Kilroy Was Here tour is well-documented as a cocaine-fueled disaster full of backstage in-fighting. The Journey show was transcendent. Bryan Adams was just breaking out and had a few foot-stomping radio hits so he had a fun set, but when Journey came blasting onstage and Neal Schon eventually broke into a self-indulgent 10-minute guitar solo, my brain didn’t know what to do with itself. I was hooked. 

So on this Mother’s Day 2019, I want to thank my mom specifically for her role in my being the music fan I am now. It wasn’t driving me to piano lessons, or signing off on the drumming practice minutes you probably knew I wasn’t really doing. It wasn’t just letting us pick the stations on the radio, or the lectures about being careful when I signed up for different rounds of the Columbia House Record and Tape club. 

You were one of the first to teach me to buy the whole album and see the concert when the band came to town, Mom. For that, I will always be grateful.