The Bob Crewe Generation was my musical selection for the drive in today, and similar to sunflowers, they have a way of letting you know that just every little thing will be quite all right.
A cheap immitation of Herb Alpert? Sure, i could see why some would make that argument. But Herb never gave the world “Music To Watch The Girls Go By” in the same way Bob did, a song that more than proves itself to actually be a good tune to watch the girls go by. Even if – much like Crewe and his generation – the hobby is no longer in vogue.
Now, i didn’t purchase the CD. i bought the album instead (Amvets*, 99 cents for every album – including boxed sets!), and then “ripped” it to disc via the very bestest Fathers Day present i ever did done receive – my USB turn table. The portable model, of course.
i never take it anywhere, but it takes me to all kinds of places via the musical landscapes i can now throw onto a disc that my car stereo will accept. It’s truly amazing how much music the human race has at one point produced, only to be totally ignored and/or forgotten by later generations. Much like blogging, i must assume that many musicians (the ones with a keen sense of history at any rate) must realize how quickly their hard work will be nothing more than an occasional “what ever happened to…?” or a faded record, sitting idley by in a thrift store.
But i digress – my USB turn table serves me very well indeed. And NO, i do not use programs that will remove the crackle, hiss and pop that can sometimes be heard. If asked, i proudly claim that i am a musical purist, and as such, require that these original elements be left in. But truth be told, it’s simply because i’m lazy, and i have no desire to go mucking about with a whole bunch of settings.
It plays, i click every time a song ends, it imports. And i’m happy. Just like Bob Crewe and his crew wanted me to be.
*i highly recommend everyone go to their local Amvets for some record bin diving. A treasure chest of musical goodies, AND you’re supporting Veterans with your purchases. Go ahead, pat y’self on your back. You know you want to.