Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong decade. The moment envelops me and I get lost in the idea of it...to have been a teenager in the 1970s.
For all the positive associations I have with the decade, there certainly were more pressing issues at the time then what the record store held. As I flip through my growing record collection, however, this seems impossible.
John Denver. The Osmonds. Shaun Cassidy. Donny and Marie.
I think of how it would have been, playing "The Twelfth of Never" on my record player. Placing the needle just so. I imagine sitting on the hardwood floor as that glorious, crackling texture fills the room before the first beat springs to life. I picture my long straight hair, bell bottoms, and any and every other stereotype I can muster. I wonder how it would have been looking at posters of David, Davy, and Donny, instead of Ike, Tay, and Zac.
I know this fantasy does not differ from the times I have spent with my casettes, CDs, or iPods, breathlessly waiting to hear the first note of a song that defines me.
Music defies our limitations. Each generation has the opportunity to discover melodies from decades past.
I double click on "The Twelfth of Never" on my iTunes and wait with baited breath for the song to begin.
you ask how much I need you
must I explain
i need you, oh my darlin'
like roses need rain