Life Before Spotify!

Hey kids, guess what? In the long ago and faraway of the mid-20th century, when your mums and dads were barely twinkles in your grandparents' eyes, young people used to have to go to cafes (sometimes called coffee bars) and ice-cream parlours (also known as soda hops) or drugstores to listen to recorded music - on jukeboxes. These latter were gleaming chrome, glass and neon-lit record-playing machines loaded with fifty or more 7 inch vinyl discs (singles, waxings, platters, hot biscuits), said discs being the popular songs of the era.


Life Before Spotify!

This was life before digitisation, i-Pods, shuffle, spotify, streaming. It was the late, quaint analogue age, a time when most teenagers (a recently invented breed) didn't yet possess a portable record-player or a transistor radio.

Young persons out for a good time would congregate at establishments that possessed a jukebox, would press a coin or coins (sixpence, shilling, dime, quarter) into the slot and then select the requisite number of paid-for 'plays' from a menu via the key pad - see above - for instance K9, 'Hound Dog'  by Elvis Presley (lol).

Here's the week's interesting etymological snippet. The word juke comes from Gullah, a Creole-variant language spoken by the African Americans of coastal Georgia and South Carolina (and it is closely related to Bahamian). I was pleased to learn that it means disorderly!

A mechanical arm in the 'disorderly' box would pull the requested disc from the stack and place it correct side up (there was a different song on each side) on the revolving turntable, whereupon a second arm (the tone arm, tipped with a stylus) would alight on the disc and start playing the chosen track at 45rpm (revolutions per minute). What jolly, frothy coffee slurping, finger clicking fun it was! Of course, I was too young myself, but I've been regaled with the tales - and eventually encountered jukeboxes in my own late teenage years, by which time both they and I had found our way into ale houses (frequently dubbed pubs or boozers).


Young Persons Out For A Good Time Around The Jukebox

We hip young things at the bar would put the likes of 'Revolution' , 'Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown' and 'Born To Be Wild'  on repeat play, but it never seemed to disturb the old codgers doggedly supping on their brown ales while they read the evening paper or played a game of dominos.

Nowadays, jukeboxes are rare and highly collectible. Some early models nearly qualify as antiques. They are apparently very popular in the mansions of rock stars of a certain vintage, loaded up with classic cuts of their choosing, (including some of their own greatest hits, no doubt), a reminder of those B4 days when they and their buddies grouped around one such beautiful beast in a coffee bar or drugstore, listening to that same track over and over until they'd figured out all the words, the guitar licks, drum patterns and those vocal harmonies.


The Beauty Of The Beast

In tribute to the theme of tracks, the afore-mentioned spirit of disorder, and the light-weight disposition of the popular song, I've attempted a poem this week based on the principle of the lyrical mash-up. It's more complex than the 'one song to the tune of another'  challenge beloved of radio panel games, for here although the structure painstakingly follows the rhythm of Johnny Lennon's ground-breaking Strawberry Fields Forever, I've selected snatches of lyrics from many different pop songs and recast them so that they make some sort of sense (I hope) in their new and far from random setting. (It was harder than I anticipated.) Feel free to sing along, either out loud or in your head... "it doesn't matter much to me".

Jukeboxed
Let me shake you down,
'cause we're going to Scarborough Fair,
flowers in our hair,
and everyone's a winner babe,
born to be wild forever.

Look for a reason to believe,
the darkest hour's before the dawn.
We'll rise up shining with the day,
it's the only way -
no need to feel so all alone.

Let me shake you down,
'cause we're going to Scarborough Fair,
flowers in our hair,
and everyone's a winner babe,
born to be wild forever.

I don't care too much for money,
hoping for seasons in the sun;
it's getting better all the time,
so come and go with me,
we only want to have some fun.

Let me shake you down,
'cause we're going to Scarborough Fair,
flowers in our hair,
and everyone's a winner babe,
born to be wild forever.

You make me dizzy Miss Lizzy,
all logic and proportion cast
like caution to the winds of fate.
The hour is getting late
but I'm happy just to be with you.

Let me shake you down,
'cause we're going to Scarborough Fair,
flowers in our hair,
and everyone's a winner babe,
born to be wild forever.

Thanks for reading. Stay frothy, S ;-)