Vol. 5 - The Right Amount of Letters: Word, Association

This document dates the soft rock conversations to coincide with one of the darkest times in recent American history.  Dolf and Holiday did not stay silent during these dark days; in fact, they found ways to make their favorite music historically relevant, nay, even prophetic.  –ed.

On: 10/8 11:45
Holiday writes

D:

As you know I have always had a fondness for words.   If I happen upon of word that I find fascinating, I may base entire conversations, entire poems, and songs on a few choice syllables.  At times, as in the case of the musical sounding "buttcheeks," we often share this minor obsession with words.  It should come as no surprise, then, that my next entry into our ongoing conversation about soft rock should begin by focusing on a single word, as well as words in general, their inadequacy, their ephemeral nature.  Cherish is the word...

Something about the arrival of autumn elicits a cocooning response in me.  After a day of activity in the brisk autumn air, communing with nature and sharing a manly bond with my dear father (who is quickly approaching the September of his years) only to hear that America had begun its retaliatory campaign against terrorism, I felt the need to cocoon before the warm "fire" (for who hasn't likened the warm glow of a vintage tube amplifier with that of the soft embers of a smoldering fire!) of my HiFi and open a good book.  Call it a need for a "heightened security" of my own.  There is a decadence in reading, slowing time while the warring world races around us, and I was quite content to remove myself from his world, if only for a moment. It was not long, however, before my attention was drawn from the words on the page to the words of my musical selection, The Association's Greatest Hits (one record to contain them all, hah!).  Cherish is the word I use to describe...

A signature piece for the group, this follow-up release to "Along Comes Mary" rose to #1 nationally, and remained there for over three weeks, thanks in no small part to a grand arrangement by the group and the production of a man we both hold in the highest regard, Mr. Curt Boettcher.  According to the All Music Guide, a trusted resource for both of us, this song was a result of Terry Kirkman's fascination with the word "Cherish".   The group's music publisher fought the title, believing it was too archaic, but the band rallied behind the pen of Kirkman, persuading the businessmen and, later, the public that a word so rich could not lose its meaning with time.  With your background in belle letters, I needn't draw the analogy to the perception of our beloved soft rock as dated, as archaic, as dead.  The record seemed doomed to obscurity, but a disc jockey in Ohio (a story I shall save for another time) took it upon himself to cause a regional breakout.  Let me take you to the bridge:

"Oh I'm beginning to think that man has never found
The words that could make you want me,
That have the right amount of letters, just the right sound
That could make you hear, make you see
That you are driving' me out of my mind

"Oh I could say I need you but then you'd realize
That I want you  just like a thousand other guys
Who'd say they loved you with all the rest of their lies, 
When all they wanted was to touch your face, your hands
And gaze into your eyes"

Cherish is the archaic word, still inadequate in Kirkman's mind, but so rich and enduring in ours.   Soft Rock is the outdated modus operandi, still as powerful as ever—if only as a way to forget the world for a fleeting moment.   

Adolf replies:

K:

And a powerful ambassador of Elysium it is, for I had a similar experience with said album (played on glorious vinyl) just this week.  As I sat and enjoyed the prose of one Pete Hamill (Dear friend, acquaint yourself with this fine writer) and my snifter of cognac, the luxurious arrangements of The Association poured out of my speakers.  Woofers and tweeters spilling forth with the gorgeous rhythms and airy harmonies from  a time not so long ago, a time when arrangements were more complex but the world much simpler.  Strange I thought, why have such devices fallen upon wooden ears these days?  Have bands such as The Association fallen victim to the graveyard of oldies radio and the occasional 60's revival movie?  I took a deep breath and lamented over these thoughts for a moment.  Then, as suddenly moved (perhaps by the quantity of cognac imbibed) I spied the album cover and the all too telling photograph on it.  Egads, I thought...thats it!  Picture, if you will, 6 young, idealistic men (dressed in various colored silken robes and be-coifed with shag hairstyles) poised upon a rock formation, surrounded by evergreens, longingly gazing into a reflective pool.  If a picture tells a thousand stories, I had uncovered 1001.  This was music of a higher aesthetic...something these sensitive souls were tuned into.  The music was a reflection of them, a reflection of all that was right with their time.  And suddenly, I felt good again and remembered why soft rock matters...

Holiday provides this coda:

Rose Petals, Incense and a Kitten

D:
You touched on a point that I had no intention of making at this time, but I am indebted to you for bringing it into focus.  Yes, the objects of soft rock are as important as the music itself.  The words, costumes, the album covers, the hair, the zithers and autoharps and flugelhorns and 12 string acoustics, the—to borrow a phrase from Sir James Croce—photographs and memories that surround the genre, the accompanying objets d’ art , are not secondary to the genre.  Like your cognac and good book, they share in the moment, they help define the moment, and they complete it.  Sadly, it is often these objects that scare would-be fans from the music.  But so be it.  Even the fan of punk rock has moments when he would prefer that his music stay, well, punk rock.   In this way it remains all the more special.  While I have moments where I want the world to embrace our beloved soft rock, today I am content to see it misunderstood.  In this way it is ours alone to cherish.  And I do...