“Every lovesick summer
has its song,
And this one I pretended to despise,
But if I was alone when it came on,
I turned it up full-blast to sing along –
A primal scream in croaky baritone,
The notes all flat, the lyrics mostly slurred.
No wonder I spent so much time alone
Making the rounds in Dad's old Thunderbird.”—American poet-critic Dana Gioia, “Cruising With the Beach Boys," from 99 Poems: New and Selected (2016)
I’ve quoted only
one-fourth of this poem. The difficulty I had in excerpting it was that the
other three parts are equally vivid.
As we move into the dog
days of August, many of us of a certain age think of the Beach Boys and of how,
over the years, they were, in the words of a 1980 album title, “Keepin’ the
Summer Alive.”
This has been the second
straight strange summer in America, but what transports us, away from the
ongoing gnawing anxiety of COVID-19, is the postwar culture of waves and hot
rods and evanescent romance summoned by the Brothers Wilson and their bandmates.
Over nearly 60 years, the
Beach Boys discography has been staggering: 29 studio albums, eight live
albums, 55 compilation albums, one remix album, and 71 singles. But for me, their
sweet muted melancholy that Gioia evokes so memorably probably comes the most from
the likes of “Surfer Girl,” “Don’t Worry, Baby” and “Caroline, No.”
And this one I pretended to despise,
But if I was alone when it came on,
I turned it up full-blast to sing along –
A primal scream in croaky baritone,
The notes all flat, the lyrics mostly slurred.
No wonder I spent so much time alone
Making the rounds in Dad's old Thunderbird.”—American poet-critic Dana Gioia, “Cruising With the Beach Boys," from 99 Poems: New and Selected (2016)
(For a less poetic but
equally sound meditation on the meaning of this American band, see this May
2012 article by Huffington Post contributor Patricia Crisafulli, “Five
Life Lessons I Learned at a Beach Boys Concert.”)
No comments:
Post a Comment