Ah, 1969. Deep in the heart of being seven years old, oblivious to the struggles of love, money or power, scratching out 6′s and 7′s on that green paper with the really WIDE lines, relating to Bill Cosby’s take on childhood (“And now Richard will tie his tie”).
My Mom and Dad woke me up in the middle of the night to watch Neil Armstrong walk on the moon while my beloved New York Mets sent the earth into a new orbit by winning the World Series (after being 9 games out of first place in the middle of August).
Noted celebrities died and others took their place: Jennifer Anniston took over for Judy Garland, Linus Torvolds stepped in for Mies van der Rohe and Ike stepped aside so Matthew Perry could take the spotlight.
While riots broke out in Watts and love broke out at Woodstock, the Wrecking Crew did their best to make the world safe for pop music.
This was one of my favorite songs at the time, probably because my piano-playing older brother (who was off to college that year) would play it for me when he came home to visit. I never got further than the right hand melody, myself.
“Dizzy” is still in hot rotation around our house, part of the Autunes collection. What a great big booming lovely reverbial drum sound. (I used the expression “Jam Up, Jelly Tight” one night at the dinner table and got the classic “curious dog” look from my five-year old.)
“Cousin Dupree” before is could be stated that obviously.
[Errata: "Young Girl" is actually '68. "This Girl Is A Woman Now" is '69. Funny, the same comment still applies.]
Say what you will about the sad fate of Neil Diamond: this was one sexy, soulful record. I remember buying the single and playing it over and over. It all came back to me when I listened again last night.
An original Wrecking Crew guitarist in front of the Wrecking Crew doing a Jimmy Webb tune. Brilliance guaranteed.
Aforementioned big brother is named Bill. I was pretty sure this song was talking about him.
And, while once taking a trip to see said brother at college, I soothed our restless German Shepherd, Bootsy, in the back of the station wagon by singing “Aquarius” over and over for about 4 hours. Didn’t soothe my Dad, though.
Would it be a stretch to suggest that The Fifth Dimension was, in a way, the manifestation of all the efforts of the Civil Rights movement: black singers, a white songwriter, a mixed bag of nationalities in the band singing about a new age dawning? Maybe, but we’ll keep hoping.
Music Junkie at Fusion 45