Waxing lyrical

A playlist that reminds me of my mother

Image of a vintage red Grundig radio - Pixabay

My mother was with it — as they used to say. Growing up, I was proud how she moved with the times, with her clothes, hair style, and music. Plenty of people, as they grow older, don’t seem to let their taste in music evolve—it stays stuck in a rut, not shifting from what they liked in their teens and early twenties.

I’d like to honour my mother’s musical journey by sharing some music that she introduced me to, or which evokes strong memories of my lovely mother, my best friend, who died in 2005.

Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree — the Andrews Sisters

When the Saints Go Marching In — Louis Armstrong

My mother loved to make things, and for this purpose she learned to sew. She enhanced the decor of our home with handmade curtains and sheets, embroidered (tapestry) cushions, plus she sewed clothes for herself and for her four children.

I can picture her sitting at her Singer sewing machine, operating the treadle to make it hum and stitch with such music for company. She’d asked my older brother to record her favourite jazz and swing music from old, wax 78 rpm records, and compile what we now call a mixed tape. At the start of their marriage, she and my father amassed a record collection, buying songs they liked to listen to, or danced to when they went out.

I love the tight harmonies of the Andrews sisters, and am of the opionion that vocal groups who’re related seem to achieve particularly beautiful blends (the Everly Brothers and the BeeGees are further examples). I also appreciate the many brass instruments that play Jazz. My mother would sing as she sewed, even if we aren’t the best singers, there is pleasure in doing it. Hearing any of the songs from those mixtapes brings a lump to my throat.

Telephone Man — Meri Wilson

I was a teenager, away at boarding school, when Telephone Man hit the airwaves. Around this time, songs which told a story were in vogue, all the better if they were a little quirky. The lyrics to this song are clean, but work on an additional—saucy— level. Hints are heavy, what did the female singer ‘get’ from the telephone man ‘in the bedroom, and in the hall?’ I was too young to be fully aware, but I sensed its naughty element!

Life is a Minestrone — 10 cc

By 1975, when this was released, my family had moved to another town. In our new house my mother listened to the radio in the kitchen while she was baking or making breakfast. She was a terrific cook, and enjoyed preparing food from scratch. The lyrics to this song always made me think of her delicious oven-baked lasagne. She cooked two types, the traditional one with a meat and tomato sauce, and another with cheese sauce and chunks of ham  between the pasta sheets— both were yummy.

Escape (the Pina Colada Song) — Robert Holmes

Mum listened to the radio in her car, playing current songs while she did the school run or shopped for groceries. This track suited her romantic side to a tee — it recognises that raising a family and the trials that life throws at you can rub the shine off one’s love life. My mother’s relationship with my father was solid, even a little bit cringe when they shard PDAs, but they kept things fresh, while demonstrating that every loving partnership needs both people to put in the work, be prepared to give and take, plus a ton of good communication.

Blanket on the Ground — Billie Jo Spears

My parents moved from the suburbs to the countryside to retire, once my siblings and I had left home. My mother still kept a radio in her kitchen, now tuned to a local station, which played a lot of country music. This was one she particularly liked (I told you she was romantic).

Having children around can keep a person young at heart. My mother had been a writer, and a book reviewer all my life. By now she had an iMac and was using the internet. She was a regular in a chat room of writing friends of varying ages, who discussed the projects and anything else that was on their mind. One topic was music and lyrics as inspiration, they also acknowledged how a soundtrack had the power to make or break a film’s success.

The Boys are Back in Town — Thin Lizzy (used to great effect in A Knight’s Tale)

It’s Raining Men — Geri Halliwell (in the soundtrack to Bridget Jones’ Diary)

The latter was big favourite in later life, she and I often watched that film together … because Colin Firth AND Hugh Grant! But my mother had always loved the original by the Weather Girls too — watch the cheesy video, it’s an absolute scream!

I haven’t stopped missing my mother, but I’ve learned to move on while enjoying the happy memories. Revisiting her musical journey to share it here brought back some very pleasant ones.

Did you find something here you like? Perhaps I’ve inspired you to click the links, or look up some music that makes the soundtrack of your early years. Please leave a comment, or tag me if you turn it into a post.

AI tells me: The slang phrase “with it” (meaning to be trendy, knowledgeable, or fully understanding of something) became widely common during the 1930s and 1940s. It originated as African American jazz and “jive” subculture slang, serving as the precursor to later terms like “hep,” “hip,” and “cool”.

The phrase gained massive mainstream popularity in the 1940s and 1950s, evolving into a staple of mid-century teenage and pop-culture vocabulary (e.g., “if you’re not with it, you’re square”). It has remained a recognizable expression in the English language ever since.