Steve Miller, soundtrack of all our teenage years
It was a throwaway line in my Chris Christie column from the other day, repeated here: “It’s a greatest hits list. It’s almost as hummable as ‘Steve Miller Band Greatest Hits 1974-78.’”
I was talking about Christie’s long list of faux pas, and for no good reason that album entered my brain, and one guess as to what I did next: Yeah, obviously, I listened to the album.
I haven’t listened to this album start to finish since … high school? Maybe college?
But for me — and for millions, if not tens of millions of other suburban teenagers of Generation X — this album was, quite simply, the soundtrack of our youth.
It kicks off the drum and cymbal race leading into that ba-dada guitar lick leading into that “uh-ohhhhh, oh-oh-oh-oh” thing and “Come on and Dance” comes on even though it’s not called “Come on and Dance” it’s called “Swingtown” and the beer ball is tapped and your buddy just pulled up in his Nissan Pulsar T-top and welcome to 1988, everyone.
The album just keeps going from there. The space laser intro to “Jungle Love.” The stop-whatyou’re-doing-right-now because you have to clap along to the clapalong parts of “Take the Money and Run.”
You want more? Sure, why not. I’m all-in right now. My mom thinks I’m at Bobby’s, when it fact I’m at Fred’s party.
“Rock’n Me” is the groove. “Serenade” is a song you love the most when you’re stoned but had no idea that was the title. “True Fine Love” is the song in your head when you’re walking home from Fred’s later that night and find yourself pining for Lauren. Or Jill. Or Mindy. Whoever. You’re pining.
“The Stake?” Another song in your head, this is the one playing on the jukebox when you turn 21 and are allowed to walk into the neighborhood bar. “Fly Like an Eagle” comes on, and just like that, you’re back in Fred’s backyard and now the Jaegermeister is out. Everyone is do-do-do’ing and slipping into the future.
“Threshold” is a spacey musical interlude — we need another dimebag! Call Jesse! — which leads into the big finish: “Jet Airliner,” which is without question the most rockin’ tune about an airplane in the history of music.
“But wait,” I can hear you say. “There’s three more songs: “Dance, Dance, Dance,” “Winter Time,” and “Wild Mountain Honey,” to which I say: We either hit the back button on the CD player all the way to the beginning after “Jet Airliner” or The Eagles Greatest Hits Vol. 2 was called for.
Don’t believe me? Go listen to those three songs right now. “Dance” will be familiar, but the other two you’ll be like, “Oh yeah, that’s right, I remember those.”
By the way, all the songs were from two albums — 1976’s “Fly Like an Eagle” and 1977’s “Book of Dreams” — except for “The Joker” from 1973’s album of the same name.
I think I heard this album — literally — 1,000 times in my life.
POSTSCRIPT: In between the Christie column and this column was July 4, and my 14-year-old son informed my wife and I that he was having “a party.”
We were like, “mmm, OK, let’s see how this goes” and next thing you know I’m at Lidl with the kid buying chips and soda and next thing you know it’s 6:30 p.m. and there’s 15 soon-to-be high school freshman in my backyard. Kid pulled it off.
And one guess as to what they were listening to …
Oh no. It wasn’t Steve Miller Band. It was some unrecognizable rap music. Get offa my lawn, kids.
And thus concludes our trip down memory lane.