In the House of … The Birth of … The Soul

If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram you will see the odd pic of the house I grew up in. One day I will learn how to attach photos to these blogs and then I will revisit all of them and add glorious pictures to embellish the stories. But for now ……..

It was a cream brick, built in 1951. As it was soon after the war, materials were scarce, and I believe that in our region, people were only given approval to build two bedroom homes. So ours was one of them, on the standard quarter acre block.

There are cream bricks and cream bricks. Ours were made in a family-owned brickworks near town. They kind of warmed you to look at them with a soft hued smatter of red through them.

My dad was a draughtsman. Should have, could have been an architect as his design ideas for homes were out of the box. He’d designed us a beautie – under the circumstances of size restrictions.

The lounge room at the front of the house had a perfectly curved wall with a large plate glass window set in. When I think about the craftsmanship of creating the wall and the window in those days of rustic tools and machinery, I appreciate what a feature they were. The front door had three port-holes. Front verandah was of polished red concrete and its roof a flat slab of concrete with three black cast iron poles holding it up at one end. Our front entry hall was as large as a small room. Over a set back built in seat was a large art deco mirror that covered the recessed wall – its feature about twenty bevel-edged squares. It gave the room an expansive feel. Two elegant fifties lights illuminated the mirror indirectly. The moody atmosphere they gave, made it a room I loved to spend time in. As a teenager, I’d lie on the floor of an evening, with cushions, duck-down doona a great aunt had made us from her farm-yard duck feathers, and my transistor radio. Radio plays and the Saturday night hit parade were my favourite listening, which brings me to the point of this blog.

Music had always played a big part in the life of our family. I have written elsewhere about how my dad played jazz sax and my mum sang. So we grew up with this soulful music around us.

In this house was the birth of my soul – not only in the physical house but the house that was me – that which contains my individual soul. So I guess an interesting question would be – when is the soul born? Maybe it has no beginning and no end but is ageless, timeless. Maybe now I am talking not so much of the birth but the growth of the soul. Ok so lets establish that I am, because I want to explore the music that has meant the most to me through my life and how I feel my soul has expanded from it, and because of it.

Our mother taught us the lyrics of all the classic jazz standards and we sang with her, if we were in the house during the day (which was usually only if the weather was inclement), and in the evenings with our father often accompanying us on his saxophone or mouth organ.

These days Spotify is my companion (and my gorgeous kelpie Daisy of course). There’s rarely a day that goes by that I am not listening to music for hours. So I can revisit these wonderful old classics at a whim. Let’s look at a list. This will be fun.

‘These Foolish Things’ – Listen to Ella Fitzgerald’s version. As a child I loved the evocative visuals of these lyrics – ‘A tinkling piano in the next apartment.’ ‘A fairground’s painted swings.’ ‘The winds of March that make my heart a dancer.’ ‘First daffodils and long excited cables.’ ‘Candlelights on little corner tables.’ ‘The park at evening when the bell has sounded.’ ‘The sigh of midnight trains in empty stations.’ ‘The waiters whistling as the last bar closes.’ ‘The scent of smould’ring leaves, the wail of steamers. Two lovers on the street who walk like dreamers.’ It still excites and stimulates me today to read these lyrics.
‘Autumn Leaves‘ – Listen to Nat King Cole’s version. I love the melody of this song. It stirs the deep romantic in me. In my high school years we had a school social about twice a year. There would be a four piece band and we’d dance. During the Modern Waltz medley, the lights would be turned low and the band would play these beautiful jazz standards that held me in a state of bliss as I danced cheek to cheek with my boyfriend of the day (well only two actually – Eddie early days, and Butch later on).
‘Summertime‘ – Billy Holliday. This was always my go-to song if anyone asked me to sing. Sadly singing has left me. I think I damaged my vocal chords while hoy-hoying in the sheep-yards drafting sheep – usually in thick, choking dust.
‘Besame Mucho’ – This exquisite, soulful song was written by a fifteen year old girl – Consuelo Velazquez. Listen to the Connie Francis or Dean Martin version. When I left home to work in the city as a seventeen year old, my girlfriend and I would often go to a coffee lounge/restaurant (a bar today). We’d order non-alcoholic cocktails and sip them slowly (could only afford one), while we listened to live jazz played by a quartet of suave musos. They’d often ask for requests and I would jump at the opportunity to ask them to play ‘Besame Mucho,’ or ‘Autumn Leaves’ or ‘Stardust.’ I wonder if they were intrigued that two seventeen year old girls had such an appreciation of jazz.
‘Stardust’ – Listen to an early Frank Sinatra version or The Glen Miller Orchestra’s.
‘Moonlight Serenade’ – Glen Miller Orchestra. For my sixteenth birthday I was given a turn-table and some money to buy my first vinyl LP. I went up the street that Saturday morning to our local record shop and bought The Diamonds’ ‘Little Darlin’. I bought it on spec as I’d never heard anything of the Diamonds before but what a delight. I loved every track and played it incessantly. Probably drove the rest of my family mad, but then my parents bought a double album of Glen Miller. I loved this dreamy big band sound. My parents danced to it, and when I met and fell in love with Warren, we too danced to it.
‘Anniversary Waltz’ – The Fureys. There are countless versions of this, as of all the other songs I’ve mentioned, but this one is really something. I wonder how a composer must feel when they have created something that sounds as soulfully melodic as this. The broad Irish accent, the passion with which it is sung just goes straight to my depths.
‘Dark Eyes’ – I think this is one of the most stirring and soul-awakening melodies ever composed. The lyrics were written by Ukranian poet Yevgeny Grebyonka, and the tune composed by Florian Hermann of Polish German origin. The most rousing of all versions I think is by The Red Army Choir. Chet Atkins has a gypsy version. I get goose bumps just thinking about it.

Leaving all these beautiful classics now, I move onto more recent songs that have shaped me.

In the late sixties I received Bob Dylan into my life. For life. No other artist has made more of an impact on me. He influenced my poetry with a force and also the song-writing I did in the late seventies. With him modern music changed. ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’, ‘Girl from the North Country’, ‘Like a Rolling Stone’, ‘Hey Mr. Tambourine Man,’ and of course I could go on for hours with his songs. There has been no more prolific song-writer of this and the last century. And none more decorated. But I appreciate that he is an acquired taste. Warren was as devoted as I am and so is my brother.
‘House of the Rising Sun’. I am wondering if songs like this one leave a mark on all who listen to it. Or do certain melodies just resonate with each of us in a different way? Probably the latter. I remember the very first time I heard this song played on the radio, I was arrested. It was The Animals’ version – Eric Burden vocals – that shot to the top of the charts. Each time I heard it I would have to stop and listen – in utter reverie. Its an old American folk song. Bob Dylan did an earlier version and also Doc Watson – both well worth listening to.
‘Ol’ Mother Earth’ – Tony Joe White. The lyrics to this song would have to make anyone’s heart ache, to think of how our beautiful Earth is being harmed. A subject before its time, it was written by Tony Joe in 1973 and features on his album ‘Home-made Icecream’. I first heard this album in 1973 while we were travelling around Australia, and particularly this song that was played on the radio a lot. His deep, mellow voice just brought up emotion. This is one of the most honest and deeply moving songs I know. I shared my passion for his music with a friend we were travelling with at the time, and he instantly also had him up there among his favourite singers. Several years later this friend was on a plane and found himself sitting next to the singer. Of course, as an avid music lover and Tony Joe White devotee, he struck up a conversation. He said it was one of the great experiences of his life. being totally engaged in passionate talk about music with Tony Joe White.

I have enjoyed writing this blog, and of course could go on for pages more. There are so many songs that have embellished my soul, and don’t you think that the things in life that give you joy shine out of you? They give you your character, your pizzazz. This little ‘house’ that is me, holds a macrocosm of thoughts, experiences and soul that I am happy to share with you.

Warmly,

Sue

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