Nine Volt Heart

Every night at the dinner table, from the time I was 6 or 7 up until I was around 11, our spaghetti or meat loaf or pork chops was accompanied by the sounds of my brother’s transistor radio. He placed it right next to his plate; my parents may have voiced opposition once or twice, I don’t remember.

But I do remember the WARM (The Mighty 590) jingles – “Hot enough for you? It’s only ‘warm’ for me.”

But, more so, it was the music that resonated. This was 63-68: the British Invasion, Motown, Stax-Volt, The Beach Boys, the great one-offs. It’s not an exaggeration to say that even if every song wasn’t memorable or essential, they all somehow seemed important.

And at any moment you could be floored, and in my case that meant putting down my fork, stopping eating and just listening; it might have been the first time I heard Levi and the Four Tops with “Reach Out, I’ll be There,” “Satisfaction” or the opening guitar feedback from “I Feel Fine.”

Or so many others.

These little moments felt so big at the time. Like the night I first heard “We Can Work it Out” and pestered my parents so hard for the rest of the night that we drove into town to Kresge’s the very next day to buy the 45.

What an investment for 69 cents.

Fortunately my kids appear to have an appreciation for music as well. But they live in a world of instant gratification. If Ruby wants to hear “Nashville Cats” or “Love Me Do,” it just takes a few seconds to find it on the iPod, no matter where we happen to be.

In those days we had to wait for the next song.

The next chance for salvation.

Which, back then, seemed to happen quite often.

Dave Alvin -- Nine Volt Heart
The Ravyns -- Raised on the Radio