What I’m Listening To Today, Episode #4
By: Jon Scott
Tags: Fifties, Humor, Blog, Music

What I’m Listening To Today, Episode #4

There’s A Moon Out Tonight, The Capris

I remain determined to end this week on a positive note. Last night, upon my evening arrival to the homestead, a rare letter from the tax man sat at the foot of the stairs awaiting my return.

“You have paid too much tax”, it began. Wonderful. This is the best of all possible starts to the weekend. Or perhaps that is what I am supposed to think. I occasionally wonder if the tax man does this on purpose. His system of checks and balances includes over and under charging and then sending one of two templates out every six months. A system designed to raise you up, or sink you, depending on how he’s feeling. It’s a cruel game to toy with your emotions, to let you know that you are the state’s plaything.

There was a time when the tax office didn’t tell you that it didn’t know what it was doing. And likewise, you did the same. It was a happy arrangement.

Anyway, I’ve forgotten the letter at home. I was supposed to deal with that today, but it’s now a ‘next week’ task. Instead, I’m sleepily ensconced in my train carriage, listening to this song.

It hearkens back to a simpler time, for many. The fifties were defined by: jukeboxes, formica tables, vinyl seats, poodle skirts and bobby socks, milkshakes, smoking as a healthy pastime, and drive-in movies. Johnny was going to be along any minute to take you to the dance in his Chevy Bel Air. This song was playing on the radio. Your song. You didn’t feel compelled to tell everyone you knew that you loved this song, because you only knew three people, and two of those people were your parents. The other one was Johnny, and he was probably going to ask you to marry him. Social media was still just an evil glint in Daddy Zuckerberg’s eye.

What a time to be alive! Leaving aside the fact that: houses were made of asbestos, there was rampant inequality, civil defence drills, black lives didn’t matter, #YouAlso, half your classmates died from polio, and Johnny crashed the Bel Air on the way to your house and was killed instantly…the fifties were great, weren’t they? No? Well, alright then. Have it your way. No decade is perfect, excepting most of the ones that happened before we got here, I suppose.

But, what got left behind…was the music, and I’m glad to have it this morning, on my way to work, colouring in the world as it passes me by.

Somewhere back in time, there was a moon out, and maybe someone stopped and was moved to write a song about it. In the here and now, even if there was a moon out, you wouldn’t see it because of all the pollution, and even if you could, let’s face it, you’d be instagramming it to infinity.

These are the times that we live in, and we must, for better or worse, embrace those times, providing that the embrace lasts for no longer than three ‘Mississippis’, we are wearing the approved protective clothing for the duration, and you have the signed paperwork proving that it has been independently judged safe for you to do so.

Then you go home, throw your clothes in the incinerator, and bathe in disinfectant for half an hour.

When the night time finally comes, and the moon is out somewhere, you can listen to this song, archived in the pleasingly sanitary environs of the digital world, and you will go to bed dreaming of a pleasant fifties Americana. On the bedside table sits an old photo, a creased but framed picture of Johnny leaning up against his ride, a blue-eyed vision from a different time.