Foreplay/Long Time
I’m in Vail, Colorado. For my birthday.
Every year I check the schedule, to see if the mountain will remain open until April 22nd. This year, with Easter being so late, it’s open until the 24th, only the second time in my relationship with Felice.
Yes, we’re staying in the condo. Paid for by Felice’s dad.
You see he was a musician. Quite famous. You might not remember his name, but you know his music. Businessmen fade, but the work of talented musicians last forever. In other words, people will still be humming "Moon River" and singing "The Pink Panther" long after the overpaid media moguls are gone.
And weather is always touch and go this time of year. Usually you’re worried about too much sun, but this week we’ve been confronted with too much snow. Which promptly turns to mush when the sun comes out. Sometimes we’re making powder turns, other times navigating slush, but too often we’re plowing through a sticky concoction akin to Maypo.
But it’s great to be here nonetheless.
And to get people to give up gardening and other warm weather pursuits, to get them to come skiing one more time, Vail concocts a festival entitled "Spring Back To Vail". Saturday was Train, they were stunningly good, proving that it’s all about the body of work, going on a journey and creating and if you’re really good, coming up with hits.
And speaking of Journey, tonight there was a cover band. At Checkpoint Charlie. In Vail Village. Right outside the condo. Playing eighties hits.
And Felice was convinced they were going to finish with "Don’t Stop Believin’".
And this had me pondering the making of a classic. This was not Journey’s first hit. Hell, Steve Perry wasn’t even in the initial incarnation of the band. And during their heyday, Journey was pooh-poohed. But then David Chase put their song at the end of "The Sopranos" and it became iconic. All these years later. The song has eclipsed the band. That’s why they can go on the road with a faux singer.
But this was not the last song of the night. The band kept playing. And the songs kept on winning. "Livin’ On A Prayer" reminded me of the eighties, when video was king and we were all addicted. Maybe that’s why eighties music is so big. We were all experiencing it in real time, on the nascent service known as MTV. It was the Facebook of its day. You didn’t go home and turn on your computer, you turned on MTV. If a friend had it and you didn’t, you insisted he turn it on.
But the final song of the night was not from that decade. It was a complete surprise. But when I heard that organ intro I was elated. It was Boston’s "Foreplay/Long Time".
My mother broke her femur. I know, I know, I just told you she broke her hip. That’s true. And I told you she checked herself out of rehab early. And last night she fell off the toilet and in the process of dragging herself to the phone, because she was not wearing her medical alert necklace, because she’s invulnerable, she heard a crack, the same leg she broke before had now broken again, just below the original injury.
And the phone started to ring and text messages started to fly and all I can say is we’ve got more questions than answers. The EKG was too high, they couldn’t do the surgery today, was that because of a medical condition or a hospital fuck-up? If you’ve ever been in the hospital you know it’s the most untogether place in the world.
And while all this is going down the band is playing in the background and then they hit "Foreplay/Long Time".
I’d just moved to L.A. I’d just bought my first big stereo. I didn’t love "More Than A Feeling", but I bought the album anyway, maybe because of "Rock & Roll Band", any record with two good songs probably held a third.
And Boston’s debut held a fourth. "Hitch A Ride".
But the third was the last song on the first side, the third track, in fact, "Foreplay/Long Time".
This is how it works. You buy a new album. You drop the needle on the vinyl. You turn up the amp. Sound starts coming out of the speakers.
You’re not texting at the same time. You’re not watching TV or talking on the phone. You’re focused. And out of the pipe, out of the connection of capacitors and wires, comes this glorious sound.
Really, listen to "Foreplay/Long Time" on vinyl.
I can’t say I love the long intro, the aptly-titled "Foreplay". But then, after an incredible flourish, the record gets quiet. The organ sustains, ever so distantly in the background, and then you hear a sound like wind rustling through the trees, or birds on a limb, and then…the bass starts to pound, the guitar starts to wail and Brad Delp lays down in the musical bed and you’re in heaven. That’s one of the great rock and roll losses, Brad Delp’s voice. If you never heard it live, you never will.
You’re on a roller coaster. And after going up the big hill and down you’re cruising through the twisty darkness and there are handclaps and an acoustic guitar and it sounds like nothing so much as an American version of a great Led Zeppelin tune. And then, once again, the band starts to WAIL!
And "Foreplay/Long Time" debuted thirty five years ago. We’ve had disco, melisma, hip-hop and now "American Idol" since. But somehow this track remains. Because, like "Don’t Stop Believin”, it’s a classic, spun on radio, heard in the background to the point where everybody knows it.
And at this point, I’m inside the condo, with the door cracked, because it’s blowin’ and snowin’ out.
But the sound of the music makes me jump to my feet. I run outside. I conduct the orchestral element of "Foreplay" with my hands… The music breaks down and I hang my head in anticipation, and then, and then, AND THEN the bass starts to thump, the guitars start to wail and at the top of my lungs I’m singing…
It’s been such a long time, I think I should be goin’
I’m gonna be 58. Sounds scary. But like your parents said, one day it’ll happen to you.
And time doesn’t wait for me, it keeps on rollin’
Ain’t that for sure. Grab hold, do what you love, because one day you can’t.
Sail on, on a distant highway
That’s the American dream. The freedom to travel. To let the wind blow through your hair as you pilot your own vehicle to the destination of your choice.
I’ve got to keep on chasin’ a dream
I’ve got to be on my way
Yes, I’m chasing it. And I’m not afraid to admit it. I care about money, but not as much as ubiquity. Twenty years ago, I fell off the edge, I didn’t think anybody was listening. The biggest thrill of my life is they’re listening now.
Well, I’m takin’ my time, I’m just movin’ along
You’ll forget about me after I’ve been gone
Unfortunately, I know that’s true. Nothing lasts. If you’re doing it for posterity, you’re sorely mistaken. That’s the joke. Life is essentially meaningless. It’s not a game you play to get to heaven. You live and then you die.
Well, I get so lonely when I am without you
Yes, we’ve got a bond. And if I don’t write for a few days, I feel the loss, the absence.
But in my mind, deep in my mind, I can’t forget about you
I wonder what you think. I’m worried about being judged. But once you stop playing, you’ve truly lost.
And I take what I find, I don’t want no more
It’s just outside of your front door
In this case, right outside the condo door.
It’s not about collecting toys. And it’s really not about money. Sure, it’s bad if you don’t have enough, but the reason all those bankers buy the concert tickets you want is because their jobs positively suck.
No, life is about experiences.
And what keeps you going is the memory of those experiences, illustrating how great life was and how great it still can be.
And that’s exactly what I was thinking out on the patio just now. How fucking great this life is. That I love skiing and am glad I am still able to do it, to be in Colorado, looking at the sideways snow and the mountains fading in the waning daylight. But the trigger is always the music. That’s the switch that keeps me going.
I was reminded of that tonight.
And now I’m reminding you.
Because underneath it all I know we’re no different. We’re all scared. We’re all looking for pleasure and meaning.
And we all know music makes us forget about our problems and dream of a better life.
