Done Apologizing

I have told this story hundreds of times in my life.

There was a record store in downtown Winthrop, the town my brother Ed and I grew up in. When we were around ten or twelve (I'm guessing) we headed down there and bought two albums.

He bought The Beatles first album, I bought Herman's Hermits. I always make a joke out of that fact.  Ed comes across as a visionary and I settled for pop. I find it especially ironic because I feel I evolved into more of a rock 'n roll aficionado than he did.

Carol and I were watching one of those PBS old rock 'n roll specials over the weekend. Sometimes when I watch those I get a bit uncomfortable. Most of the performers are old - I mean really old - especially the people from fifties rock.

An entertainer has to think like an athlete - you gotta know when to hang it up. Some of these people are really pushing it. I gotta say I have never seen anybody embarrass themselves but they come close sometimes.

Then again, the flip side for me is watching the audience. Old people just like me singing their hearts out and knowing every word. Music means so much. You carry it through your life and it sparks memories. It also raises the same emotions it did decades ago which is fucking medicinal, man - music keeps you young.

Anyway, Peter Noone, the lead singer of Herman's Hermits, was one of the featured guests. He sang a bunch of their songs. And I was smiling my ass off. And the audience was singing their asses off.

They had a bunch of good songs. Fun sings, singable songs. I no longer feel that I made a horrible mistake fifty plus years ago.

"I'm Henry VIII, I Am." That is a great song. You know you love it. I just found out - today - that the song was written in 1910 as a British music hall song by Fred Murray and R.P. Weston. For the past fifty plus years I thought it was a Herman's Hermits original. On top of that it turns out that all of their bigger hits were written by other people. The songs they wrote themselves were not hits.

The sheer volume of shit I don't know could knock the planet earth out of it's orbit.

Sing it with me. But do it right. Drop the H, AND make Henry a three syllable word. En-er-y.

Let's go: "I'm enery the eighth I am, enery the eighth I am I am, I got married to the widow next door, she's been married seven times before, and every one was an enery, she wouldn't have a Willie or a Sam, I'm her eighth old man I'm enery, enery the eighth I am.

Second verse same as the first"

Well done.

Peter Noone is 71 years old. Didn't look bad, sang pretty good. Smiled a lot. He was having a good time. His full name is Peter Blair Denis Bernard Noone.

I know this. I have known it all my life. One of those weird things that stays in my brain. Whenever the subject of Herman's Hermits comes up (not often) I obnoxiously ask "Did you know that Peter Noone's full name is.................."

The audience was belting out these songs. Old fuckers my age. Having a goddamn blast. But I did notice a number of young people (a relative term at my age) singing along enthusiastically as well.

Music, man. Powerful stuff. You would think music alone could save the world from it's ugliness and hatred. Unfortunately, evil trumps good. (Get it?)

Anyway I will no longer apologize for buying Herman's Hermits as my first album. I will no longer be embarrassed.

I am proud of it.

"Something tells me I'm into something good"