Have you heard that wine or books get better age? I don't know about wine or books but it is true about songs.
Pop songs have a short life. Let me look back at a couple of songs that sounds better and better many years later.
The Mamas and Papas were John Phillips (a very prolific songwriter), his wife Michelle, plus the amazing vocals of Cass Elliott & Denny Doherty. They recorded a lot of hits in the late 1960's, from "California Dreamin" to "Monday Monday" to "Creque Alley".
Cass died accidentally in the 1970s after a short solo career. Denny and John died recently of cancer. Michelle is the only surviving member of the group.
Glen Campbell was a very successful country vocalist who crossed into pop often. He recorded "By the time I get to Phoenix" and "Galveston". We just heard that Glen Campbell is battling some health problems.
Click here for "12:30 (young girls are coming to the canyon)" & "Gentle on my mind", two songs that get better with age:
"I used to live in New York City;
Everything there was dark and dirty.
Outside my window was a steeple
With a clock that always said twelve-thirty.
Young girls are coming to the canyon,
And in the mornings I can see them walking.
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
And I can't keep myself from talking.
At first so strange to feel so friendly---
To say good morning and really mean it---
To feel these changes happening in me,
But not to notice till I feel it.
Young girls are coming to the canyon,
And in the mornings I can see them walking.
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
And I can't keep myself from talking.
Cloudy waters cast no reflection;
Images of beauty lie there stagnant.
Vibrations bounce in no direction,
But lie there shattered into fragments.
Young girls are coming to the canyon,
(Young girls are in the canyon)
And in the mornings I can see them walking.
(In the mornings I can see them walking)
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
(Can no longer keep my blinds drawn)
And I can't keep myself from talking..."
Everything there was dark and dirty.
Outside my window was a steeple
With a clock that always said twelve-thirty.
Young girls are coming to the canyon,
And in the mornings I can see them walking.
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
And I can't keep myself from talking.
At first so strange to feel so friendly---
To say good morning and really mean it---
To feel these changes happening in me,
But not to notice till I feel it.
Young girls are coming to the canyon,
And in the mornings I can see them walking.
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
And I can't keep myself from talking.
Cloudy waters cast no reflection;
Images of beauty lie there stagnant.
Vibrations bounce in no direction,
But lie there shattered into fragments.
Young girls are coming to the canyon,
(Young girls are in the canyon)
And in the mornings I can see them walking.
(In the mornings I can see them walking)
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
(Can no longer keep my blinds drawn)
And I can't keep myself from talking..."
"It's knowin' that your door is always open
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleepin' bag
Rolled up and stashed behind your couch
And it's knowin' I'm not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line
That keeps you in the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
That keeps you ever gentle on my mind
It's not clingin' to the rocks and ivy
Planted on their columns now that bind me
Or something that somebody said because
They thought we fit together walkin'
It's just knowing that the world
Will not be cursing or forgiving
When I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're movin' on the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
And for hours you're just gentle on my mind
Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines
And the junkyards and the highways come between us
And some other woman's cryin' to her mother
'cause she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence
Tears of joy might stain my face
And the summer sun might burn me till I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see
You walkin' on the back roads
By the rivers flowin' gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup back from a gurglin' cracklin' cauldron
In some train yard
My beard a rustlin' coal pile
And a dirty hat pulled low across my face
Through cupped hands 'round a tin can
I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you're waitin' from the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
Ever smilin', ever gentle on my mind..."
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleepin' bag
Rolled up and stashed behind your couch
And it's knowin' I'm not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line
That keeps you in the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
That keeps you ever gentle on my mind
It's not clingin' to the rocks and ivy
Planted on their columns now that bind me
Or something that somebody said because
They thought we fit together walkin'
It's just knowing that the world
Will not be cursing or forgiving
When I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're movin' on the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
And for hours you're just gentle on my mind
Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines
And the junkyards and the highways come between us
And some other woman's cryin' to her mother
'cause she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence
Tears of joy might stain my face
And the summer sun might burn me till I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see
You walkin' on the back roads
By the rivers flowin' gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup back from a gurglin' cracklin' cauldron
In some train yard
My beard a rustlin' coal pile
And a dirty hat pulled low across my face
Through cupped hands 'round a tin can
I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you're waitin' from the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
Ever smilin', ever gentle on my mind..."
Tags: A couple of songs that get better with age To share or post to your site, click on "Post Link". Please mention / link to the My View by Silvio Canto, Jr. Thanks!
