Reflections On ... Wilson Phillips

Is there anything more memorable than your first true love? Okay, I’m sure there is, like your wedding day, the birth of a child, college graduation … the list could go on and on. But a first real, true love holds a special position in the memory banks of anyone, especially a romantic who looks upon yesterdays at certain times of his life with great joy for the nostalgia of it all.

My first true love was Tara and I met her during my senior year of high school, a particularly interesting time in my life. I am sure that senior year of high school is an interesting time in anyone’s life, but for me, it will always hold a special place in my collective psyche. Senior year was a time of change and uncertainty. I was certain that I was not going to college after high school, me and school were never the best of friends, and I was unsure what I was going to do after graduation. For most of my senior year the goal was just to finish and get out of there. It’s not that I hated high school, but I always felt that there was somewhere else I needed to be. This was a plague that would haunt me for several years of my early adult life.

I met Tara at the Roy Rogers restaurant we worked in. I had gotten a job at a location further away from my hometown Roy’s because I heard they needed experienced help and there was a chance to make a little more money per hour. I think I went from $4.25 to $4.85 an hour, which was a huge windfall at that time in my life. So, I put in for a transfer to that store where a couple of other friends had gone to work. The commute was a little longer, but I was young and had my own vehicle, so the drive was no big deal to me. I started at the end of the summer just before my senior year of high school would begin.

That same summer, Wilson Phillips roared onto the Billboard charts with their huge hit single, “Hold On.” The song was everywhere and became one that you couldn’t escape. It was on MTV. It was on every other radio station. And it was played all over the shopping malls. Needless to say, the song got stuck in my head and I had to own the album. Even though I was a metal head by preference, I did like other styles of music thanks to my parents. Pop, jazz, country, R&B, I was enamored by it all. If it was good music, it was okay by me. I never did like classifying songs into genres.

Wilson Phillips was a vocal group that consisted of Carnie Wilson, Wendy Wilson, and Chynna Phillips who were the daughters of Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys (Carnie and Wendy) and John and Michelle Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas (Chyna Phillips). With that much genetic talent there was no way this group wasn’t going to be anything but spectacular. And thus, on the strength of their huge hit single, I did purchase a copy of the album that summer. I played it a lot and really got into it during the summer, but I did not fall in love with the record until I fell in love with Tara. It was at that point that my romantic side took over and I listened to this album nonstop for the entire fall of 1990.

Working in a fast food restaurant as a teenager allowed a lot of time for goofing off and drama. And for trying to land dates with members of the opposite sex. Such was the way for Tara and I. There was an instant attraction the first time that we met and I’d like to believe that we both knew it. There was a spark in the air and some sort of magic that we were both overcome by. I don’t remember how our first date occurred; I’m not sure if I asked her to go the mall with me (a big thing back in the day), or if she invited me to hang out at her house, I just remember that as my final year of high school began, I found myself spending more and more time with Tara. And most of that time was spent either at work or at her house when we weren’t working.

I shared a level of comfort with Tara that I did not have with many people, especially with girls. Up until that point in my life, my relationships with females consisted of picking the wrong girl, trying to get dates with girls who already had boyfriends, or being flat out rejected for trying to land a girl that was way out of my league. I had tenacity, that’s for sure, but tenacity never got me a girl and it certainly didn’t get me a meaningful relationship. All of that changed in the fall of 1990 when it started getting serious.

I would spend all my non-working, non-school hours at Tara’s house. Her parents liked me a lot. Her brother liked me a lot. And her friends adored me. I was closest with her mom, and with her best friend, April. I can remember spending many an afternoon that fall drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and just bullshitting about life in general. Her mother was very accepting and approving of me which made me feel wonderful. There was a bond forming there that I hadn’t had with anyone in my entire life. Tara and I grew closer as the fall wore on and I entertained thoughts of us being a serious couple for many years to come.

When I wasn’t hanging at Tara’s, working, or sleeping, I was listening to Wilson Phillips. I had transferred the CD to tape and listened to it in my car all the time. On my way to school. On my way to work. And especially on my way to Tara’s house. “Hold On” was the first song to take hold on me, but I quickly discovered all the other gems that this album contained. Basically, every song was massive and amazing and I fell in love with all of them over time. “Hold On” gave way to “Release Me” which led me to “Impulsive” which was a song that spoke to me on many levels. Of course, it would! I was falling in love with a girl and this song told me all about what that was like. Lines like “Now you’re running away with my heart” and “I don’t want to analyze what I’m doing here” hit me over the head like a rubber mallet. I didn’t want to admit it to myself due to my past track record, but I was falling in love with this girl. I had never felt safer with anyone than I did with her in my arms. There was a sense of belonging, a feeling of security, and plenty of moments of bliss whenever I was around her. She had captured my heart. And even though I wanted to remain impulsive and resist the urge to fall in love (because, honestly, only bad things could happen), I couldn’t help myself. Tara had taken my heart and I was left to wonder what was going to happen now that she had it.

I think my strong feelings scared Tara because she often told me how she was worried about hurting me. She didn’t want to hurt me, but she had her own previous track record as well and it wasn’t a great one. She came with her own baggage and past heartache. And while I didn’t believe that would or should affect me, she felt that it would and that caused her to be extremely cautious with our relationship.

“Ooh You’re Gold” was another Wilson Phillips song that carried a lot of meaning for that fall. While Tara was worried she was going to hurt me, I felt that she was the most wonderful person in the entire universe. Sure, I probably had blinders on when it came to her, but I couldn’t help it. I was fascinated with her. Wilson Phillips said it best for me: “All I really need you to know, is ooh you’re gold.” She was gold to me. And platinum. And every other precious metal placed on Earth. She was amazing. She was everything that I ever wanted in a partner, everything that I wanted in life. I honestly believed that life couldn’t get any better than those late afternoons in her kitchen, slurping coffee, smoking cigarettes, ruminating on life, and waiting for her mom to come home from work. Those really were some of the best days of my life.

And my relationship with Tara affected all my other relationships. I still worked as much as I could, and I kept my grades up to the best of my abilities (I was a B/C student most of my academic career), but I stopped spending time with my other friends. I practically forgot about my guy buddies. And I barely ever saw my mother. She mentioned that to me on the rare occasions that I did see her, but what was I to do? I was twiterpated as the wise old owl told Bambi in the Disney movie. Tara had consumed my life and I was all too happy to drink it in and let it happen. That autumn was a magical one that I hoped would never end.

Sadly, like all things in life, it did come to an end. And as the brisk, bright days of the golden fall made way for the gloomy, gray days of December, our relationship took a turn for the worse. It wasn’t anything that I did. I still believe that to this day. It was just that Tara was scared to get so serious in such a short period of time. Every time I tried to discuss it with her, she changed or avoided the topic. She wasn’t having any of it and I was getting more confused by the day. What was happening to us?

Then the fateful night came. Tara wrote me a letter. A long, long letter. One that I still have somewhere in the depths of my collection of personal effects from years gone by. Tara sent me home with the letter and told me to read it when I got there. Which of course, I obliged. I don’t remember the exact contents and I did not pull it out for this reflection, but I remember the gist. It explained how she had hurt others in the past and how she had been hurt in the past. And then the inevitable was written in it. She told me that she didn’t want me to fall in love with her because she wasn’t in love with me and didn’t think she ever could be. Sure, she loved me, but she wasn’t in love with me. Ouch. That hurt. A lot. The sting of it was real, but the shock of it was worse. I thought everything was A-Okay and then I got hit upside the head with an aluminum baseball bat. Where did that come from?

After reading the contents of the letter I put on my Wilson Phillips CD and sat in my bed, stunned. I remember listening to “Release Me” several times in a row, letting the music wash over me and listening to the lyrics. It was time for a change, can you release me? The lines “Come on baby, you knew it was time to just let go, cause we want to be free” hit home hard. And hurt. I realized in listening to that song what Tara was saying in her letter. She wanted to be free. She didn’t want to be tied down. Most likely due to her own fears, but whether that was true or not, didn’t matter. It was over. How could I read a letter like that and expect that we were still going to be the same as we ever were? Things had changed between us forever and it just sucked.

Inevitably, our relationship ended. I just couldn’t go through with it anymore knowing that I wanted something so much different than she did. Of course, Tara told me that we could still be together, but we couldn’t be serious. I told her that I just didn’t work that way. I was cut from a different cloth that was clearly made in a separate factory from hers. We weren’t going to be able to work it out her way, so we just had to go our separate ways. Which was terrible, but needed to be done.

I spent that Christmas alone, which stung, and I reminisced about my fall over the entire winter break. Wondering if I could have done anything different. Wondering if I had stayed with her, if I could have eventually made her see things my way. Wondering if, given enough time, she would fall in love with me too. Who’s to say?

I also spent the entire winter break listening to Wilson Phillips from start to finish repeatedly (along with Neil Diamond and The Beatles Let It Be). By this time, all the songs spoke to me on some level and every song reminded me of her. Every song reminded me of what I had. Every song reminded me of what could have been. Why did she have to be so scared? “Next To You (Someday I’ll Be)” was the song I played the most, because it spoke of hope and change and the possibility that things could change and be different in the future. Perhaps there was a chance for us? Someday I’ll be … next to you. I was hoping and I was keeping the candle burning, because one day, someday, it was going to happen.

It didn’t. Tara and I kept in touch off and on for the next couple of years, but we never rekindled our relationship (which was probably for the best). When I moved to Florida to figure my life out after high school, we lost touch all together and I’ve not seen her since. And though I’ve tried, she’s can’t be found on social media (at least not through my searches) and google doesn’t reveal anything at all. I like to think she got married, changed her name, went on to have a wonderful family and is living the good life. I always wished for only the best for her.

I’ve often been tempted to drive by her old house and see if her parents are still there. It’s been 25 years since I last visited that house, so it’s highly unlikely, but part of me wants to do it just to say that I did. Not that I wish to rekindle something from so long ago now. I am a happily married man with a wonderful life of my own. But I always wonder what happened to her. How did her story turn out? And of course, any time I hear Wilson Phillips I think of Tara. I think of that magical autumn we spent together and I think of how perfect my life was at that moment. There have been similar moments in my life since then, but I don’t think any of them have been so perfect for so long. Part of that was because I was so youthful back then and had my whole future ahead of me. Part of that was because I was spending every free moment with a girl that I thought of as my best friend. The teenage heart is filled with much. Romanticism being a big part of that.

Occasionally, when the autumn chill settles in and I find myself alone for an hour or so with no pressing deadlines, I like to pull out my Wilson Phillips CD and let it play. I usually grab a cup of coffee (I don’t smoke anymore) and just wander down memory lane. The feeling is both nice and cutting all at once. And, of course, I wonder. What if? What could have been. What would have become. I guess I’ll never know and that’s okay. My life turned out pretty good in the end to say the least.

Reflections On...The Stranger

When “Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song)” is your least favorite song on an album, it has to be a monster disc. Billy Joel’s The Stranger is one of the greatest records to ever be released in my lifetime. I’ve never compiled a personal top ten list of albums in my life, but if I did, I am sure that The Stranger would be on it. The record was released when Joel was hitting his stride as a musician and challenging himself to create the greatest music he could. It was also the breakthrough album that made him a household name.

My earliest memories of listening to The Stranger come from a time when I would have dance competitions with my sister as we listened to the album on my mother’s 8-Track stereo system. Yes, this was in the same house where I fell in love with Bob Seger’s Night Moves. My sister and I would pick an album to listen to after dinner and we had a “dance off.” The only problem was we were the only judges, so we always gave ourselves perfect scores and graded the other as far less than perfect. One of the albums we played a lot for these competitions was The Stranger. 52^nd Street, Night Moves, and the soundtrack to Grease were other albums we loved to use for these dance contests.

I can remember being petrified of the album cover to The Stranger. I mean, at a young age, who wouldn’t be? Looking at it now, much older and mature in life, that album cover still freaks me out. Billy Joel, dressed in a suit, is sitting on a bed, staring at a creepy theater mask that is lying on a pillow. Full compliments to whomever thought up the cover design. It is certainly a memorable one. More important than the alarming album cover and dance competitions however was the music contained on the record. Even at a tender age, the music spoke to me.

“She’s Always a Woman” was a song that reminded me of a girl I had a huge crush on in my neighborhood. Anytime I heard that song, I thought of her immediately and went into some strange daze. A stupid grin would appear on my face and all movement would stop as I thought of my crush. Even back then young Ryo was a budding romantic. I don’t remember the girl’s name anymore, but if I close my eyes and listen to “She’s Always a Woman” I can still see her face in my mind. That’s the power of those young early crushes---they never go away. And that’s also the power of music, it can transport you back to any time in your life.

As my adolescence evolved, The Stranger was put away and forgotten for a long period of time. I wouldn’t truly revisit the album until I was in high school. Occasionally, I would hear “Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song)” on the radio and turn up the volume, but I didn’t even purchase my own copy of The Stranger until I was a freshman.

During my sophomore year of high school, “Vienna” played a significantly powerful part in my life. It was during this time of my teenaged youth that my mother and step-father were going through an ugly divorce, my sister and I were barely speaking to one another, and I was still trying to figure out my place in the world and where exactly I fit in. I had a few friends, but I was far from the Mr. Popularity that I desperately wanted to be. To add to those complications, I had discovered girls in a big, big way. Unfortunately, girls had yet to discover me, which was evident whenever I tried to engage them. 

I grew full of uncertainty and self-doubt. A teenager with low self-esteem and lots of doubt is a volatile combination to say the least. Fortunately, I was able to see a youth therapist during this dark period. He was a fantastic counselor and able to connect with me on a deep level. It was nice to have someone to visit on a regular basis, discuss the problems I was having that I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) discuss with my parents and get positive encouragement to work through the issues I was having. Shortly after being turned down by the latest lust of my life, Jen, I grew into a deep depression. What was wrong with me that all the girls I liked didn’t reciprocate the same feelings? I was just ready to give up on life. Talking through this depression with my counselor one evening, he brought up the song “Vienna” and asked if I knew it. I did know the song, and by that time I owned my own copy on cassette, but I never really paid much attention to that particular tune. He told me to go home and play “Vienna” a few times and really listen to the lyrics.

I took his advice and listened to “Vienna” on a regular basis over the next couple of weeks. The words in the music spoke to me as they had never before. Most likely because I was actually listening to them for the first time. The opening lines of “Slow down, you crazy child, you’re so ambitious for a juvenile, but then if you’re so smart, tell me why are you still so afraid?” slapped me right in the face. The later lyrics of “Slow down, you’re doing fine, you can’t be everything you want to be before your time” really drove the point home. I was trying too hard to make life happen instead of letting it develop around me. “Vienna” would be a theme song for me for the next few months and really helped to ground me and see life from a new perspective, one that I had never noticed before.

Winter breaks and summer months were fabulous as a teenager because they provided an opportunity to visit my father. He lived in Florida with my three half-brothers and I loved to visit them all. I especially enjoyed having time with my Dad. Our relationship was an odd one, mostly because my father was an alcoholic, but he did his best to love me in the way that he could. There were many a night when we would put “Only The Good Die Young” on the stereo at full blast and let it rip. We would play the song multiple times over and just jam out, singing as loud as we could as my brothers laughed at us for being so goofy. Those are some of my most cherished memories of my father and me.

“The Stranger” and “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” are two songs that I really got into while in high school. My high school years were the start of my journey into music discovery, as I tried to absorb different styles and types of music to find what would shape me and stay with me. In addition to the hair metal, hard rock, and modern pop hits of the day, I was discovering classic rock music. Billy Joel quickly became one of my favorite classic rock artists, and The Stranger became one of my favorite classic rock albums.

During this journey of discovery, I found “The Stranger” to be a different piece of music that struck me as brilliant. The opening piano riff followed by the lonely whistling made the song stand out. When the first verse kicks in with guitar and drums, the listener is hooked. As with most songs on the album, “The Stranger” has lyrics designed to make the listener think and analyze. As a young man with plenty of free time on my hands I liked to think and analyze. This album provided me with plenty of opportunity.

“Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” is one of the greatest “story” songs ever recorded. The tale of Brenda and Eddie from darling high school sweethearts to their eventual collapse is one that most failed young lovers can relate to. It is a fantastic song that stands the test of time. Even today, young listeners could relate to “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” and clearly see the picture Billy Joel painted in the song. Over 40 years later, this song still holds up.

Whenever I am feeling down, or just uncertain, I find myself revisiting this record. The Stranger seems to take me back to a safer place in my life. Even though I was young and full of drama and chaos, there are grand memories there. The Stranger helps to remind me what I’ve been through and overcome and serves as a confidence builder about what is yet to come. Having been through so much in life already, I am weathered and can handle anything that comes my way. And if I need to center myself, just for a moment, I can put this album on and ease myself back to calm. It’s always been an important record to me. From dance competitions, to young crushes, to centering and grounding myself, The Stranger has been a constant in my life. I imagine that it will continue to be so even well into my golden years.

Reflections On...Night Moves

My love affair with music began at a very early age---5 years old to be exact. It’s because of both my parents that I love music as much as I do. My father amassed a vinyl record collection of more than 1500 albums. As a teen, I would sit and stare at my father’s collection for hours, wondering how anyone could obtain such an enormous music collection. And I was envious. I wanted to hold a collection like that when I was older. I wanted to have a collection even larger than my Dad’s.

My mother played the radio constantly. She also had her favorite bands and performers that she exposed to me growing up. Paul Revere and the Raiders were Mom’s favorite band, so I learned a lot about 60s pop through her. She also loved Fleetwood Mac and Patsy Cline and through her I grew an appreciation for country music. And then there was one performer in particular that she exposed me to very early on in my life and that was Bob Seger.

When I was 5 years old, my mother started playing her copy of Night Moves on our old 8 track stereo. We would listen to it while she made dinner, or before bed, or whenever we were just sitting around. When I first heard this delicious melodic folk rock, I fell in love. Rock and Roll Never Forgets was an awesome rocker, and as a kid, I could run around “dancing” and being silly to this song and it was enjoyed by everyone. I was the life of the party and getting attention! And what kid doesn’t love getting attention?

I also determined in my youthful mind that there was something about these songs, the band, the singer, and the music. The way everything blended to create a feeling of euphoria was an amazing experience, especially to an impressionable young boy. The hard rock opening of “Rock and Roll Never Forgets.” The slow acoustic intro of “Night Moves.” The bopping folk rock of “Mary Lou.” It was all so fascinating and mesmerizing.

Night Moves became my new addiction. At first, I would ask Mom to play it if we were out in the car, or if we were home in the evening with no one watching television. Then I would ask her to play it in the afternoon before I went to school (PM kindergarten for me). Then I would ask her to play it in the morning when she woke up. Eventually, I would knock on her door and ask her to play it myself. I already knew how to use the 8-track player from watching Mom do it so many times.

When she requested I watch Sesame Street instead, I scoffed at the notion. I wanted to hear some good old rock and roll not a bird and a furry elephant singing kids songs. Bring me the rock! I would persist and my mother would usually lament. There’s something to be said for bothering your parents at 6 in the morning. I would pop Night Moves into the old 8-track stereo and let her rip. It was heavenly.

We would bring Night Moves on road trips with us and listen to it in the car. I just couldn’t get enough of that album. One weekend we took a road trip to my Grandparents house where I was dropped off along with my sister to stay for a couple of days. Somehow, Night Moves got left in the back seat of the car in the hot, hot sun. When I climbed back into the car that Sunday for the ride home I asked to listen to Night Moves once again. I was informed that we couldn’t. The 8-track had warped and we were no longer able to listen to that album. Warped? How did this happen? How could this be allowed? Where was my Night Moves?

That ended 5 year old Ryo Vie’s intense affair with Night Moves. It would only be a matter of time before my new obsession would strike, which ended up being Billy Joel’s The Stranger, but that is a reflection for another day. On that particular Sunday, I was mourning the loss of Night Moves being laid to rest. But like Bob sang, rock and roll never forgets.

As the years rolled by, Bob Seger would fall off my radar for a while as I explored other avenues of music from bubble gum pop to death metal. I tried all types of music across the spectrum and eventually Night Moves crept back into my life. I was a teenager reconnecting with some lost classics while learning classic artists for the first time in my life. Born To Run, Bat Out Of Hell, and Rumors, were being discovered and/or rediscovered and really picked apart.

As a teenager, I spent a lot of time in my room, sitting in the dark, sneaking cigarettes out the window, and listening to music. I would find a particular album and play it over and over again, analyzing the songs, dissecting the lyrics, and looking for deeper meaning in the art as well as my life. I was a dreamer as a teenager, always pondering my plight and wondering where everything was going to lead me. I used music a lot as my guide and my muse.

Night Moves got a lot of play during this teenage journey of discovery. I used Bob Seger’s stories through songs to analyze my life and understand the bigger picture of the world that was out there. Particularly the title song. Seger’s portrayal of himself and his beautiful love to open the song caught my teenage ears in a way that 5 year old me did not understand. Two restless souls just using each other for sexual gratitude and passing the time was something that I related to at 15 years old. I certainly didn’t understand the opposite sex well and I didn’t know how to have a serious relationship, but I could imagine a “Night Moves” scenario. And I was able to meet girls who could imagine the same.

“Sunspot Baby” was another fun song that I enjoyed as a teenager. This was a blues rocking song that I just loved because of the piano riffs and the lyrics. Heartache and love lost while trying to chase down the woman who left you just to figure out why was a captivating story to a teenage boy who had yet to live that sort of thing. And as a bonus, whenever I could listen to this song with my dad, he would crank it to ten and we would rock out together. “Sunspot baby! I’m gonna catch up somtime!”

Deep down that is the biggest reason that Night Moves will always hold a special place in my heart. It’s one of the few albums that I would listen to with both my mother and father and enjoy it with them on a deeper level. With my mother, I just wore out as a kid, and we still joke about the warped 8-track to this day. With my father, we would just rock out to several songs on the album and be amazed at how great the record is. There are very few albums that share a link between me and both of my parents, but Night Moves is one of them.

When I was in my first marriage and going through a tough time deciding on what I wanted to do, I rediscovered Night Moves for the third time. I was in my early 20s by then and the songs on Night Moves presented an even deeper meaning in my life. Like Springsteen’s Born To Run, Night Moves is filled with stories of dreamers longing to get away or reflecting on their past. The protagonists in the songs are asking themselves, “Did I do everything that I could? Was my life better in the past than it is now?” Those reflections and search of self were very relevant to me in my early 20s. I had gotten married way too young and I was at a point in my life where I was wondering constantly if this was all that life had to offer. If it was, I wasn’t too fond of it and I knew that things had to change. I spent many nights listening to Night Moves over and over again, contemplating my life and wondering what had to be done. Night Moves was a comfort because it was my link to the past, my link to both my parents, and my link to understanding and self-discovery at three major points in my life. 

The album was there to bring me joy through the initial phase of my life when I was hearing music for the first time. It was there to bring me comfort as a teenager while I tried to learn my place in the world. And it was there to center me in my 20s as I tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I would always have Night Moves to fall back on and it was nice to know that the album was never going away.

Regretfully, I’ve never seen Bob Seger in concert. I wish that I had. I can only imagine that he puts on one heck of a show. And any songs played from Night Moves would give me fits of euphoria and glee because that album meant so much to me growing up. I still pull it out every once in a while and play it a couple of times through. And every time I hear the opening notes of “Rock and Roll Never Forgets” a big smile comes across my face. The sweet memories of music from another time in my life. Music that shaped me. Music that changed me. Music that meant the world to me. I’ll never forget either, Mr. Seger. Night Moves will always hold a special place in my heart.