My Music: Discovering Jimmy Buffett

I have wracked my brain but cannot remember his name.  He was a fix-up from a friend, and I think I only went out with him a couple of times. The first time was on the blind double date and we saw the film Taxi Driver.  The second was a surprise party for his friend Dave.  Yes, it is ironic I remember the name of the friend but not my date.  Oh well.

What is significant about this party was the music involved.  Dave and his wife lived in an apartment in Parma, and Dave was happily surprised when he walked in the door and saw a ton of his friends.  They were a friendly lot. We were all in our early 20's. It was late February 1976.

Dave's number one request for a gift was the Lynyrd Skynyrd's album with the song "Gimme Three Steps."  I had never heard that song before, but it was played several times at the party (Dave politely begging if he could hear it "just one more time"), and watching Dave dance around to it was a lot of fun.  I knew the song well by the end of the party,

But that isn't the only musical significance of this party, where I knew no one except my date--a little bit.

Somehow I ended up talking to a guy at the party about music. When he heard the kind of music I liked (The Eagles, Jackson Browne, Pure Prairie League, and The Outlaws), he asked if I had heard of Jimmy Buffett?  I had not.  So he told me about this guy that came up to Nashville every year from the Keys and recorded an album.  He told me I should check him out.

I did shortly thereafter.  I went to a music shop that sold albums at a good price, but they didn't have a huge selection. I asked for Jimmy Buffett. They had this one, his fourth:

I took it home and began to listen...and I didn't stop for a long time.  I found an amazing storyteller: "Woman Goin' Crazy on Caroline Street" is the first song, about a lonely woman looking for a lover.  Then the Buffett humor in "My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don't Love Jesus," followed by the poignant "The Captain and the Kid" a lovely song about Jimmy and his grandfather.  Inside the album were photos of his boat and a very tan Buffett, as well as his own words about having a real Coral Reefer band now and how he is loving his Havana Daydreamin' life. This was certainly welcome during late winter in northeastern Ohio!  His music was some of the most gentle and inviting I had ever experienced -- well, since James Taylor's Sweet Baby James album six years earlier.

Anyway, the most touching song on the album is "Something So Feminine About a Mandolin" -- a story about a woman playing a mandolin that made him "want to sing." "Singing" in this case could probably be a metaphor for many things, but I just took it literally.  The song itself is tender, with the gentle mandolin ringing and trilling throughout the song.  I know at the time I wasn't all that familiar with the mandolin, but I am convinced that it was this song that imprinted the idea to learn mandolin -- which now at age 58 I am finally doing.

This is the best I can do for a video for this song, as it is definitely not a popular Buffett song.

The next summer "Margaritaville" would hit the airwaves and the whole Parrothead phenomenon would soon follow.  Buffett would still be appreciated for his storytelling, but mostly in the party realm -- not about listening to a beautiful instrument being played in a field near Austin.  I was fortunate to see Buffett at Cleveland's Music Hall in March 1977 before the craziness began.

Now, back to the party, because there is still more musical significance to discuss.  That is Communal Music Appreciation.

Taking pride in burying other stations.

Back in 1976, listening to music was done in community.  We all listened to the same radio station and knew the same songs.  The only country music we listened to was anything that crossed over to pop radio or rock stations.  Rap was only getting started somewhere far, far away from our blue collar town, and we wouldn't even hear rap until the 1980's.  In Cleveland, WMMS was the music leader, and we all followed -- especially in the mid-1970's -- it was a powerhouse.  Books have been written about that time, and I was surely influenced in many ways by the WMMS point of view.

So here is the other fond memory I have of the party:  the last hour or so, someone put on the newly released Eagles: Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975).  Dave was no longer dancing around to Lynyrd Skynyrd, and everyone was seated in a circle on the floor, couch, and chairs.  As each Eagles song came on, we all sang -- everyone -- because we all knew the songs: "Take It Easy," "Witchy Woman," "Peaceful Easy Feeling,"  and we all knew the words.  Sometimes someone would come forward and "solo" their favorite part of a song. It was one of the most enjoyable, uniting, and entertaining events at any party I ever attended.  It was spontaneous -- not planned in any way -- but I believe it came out of the fact that music was a shared experience, not the fragmented, solo playlist activity it has become.

And the guy I was with?  Cannot remember what ever happened with him, but I don't recall going out again, and I don't recall ever having a discussion about it.  I feel like his whole purpose in my life was fulfilled -- I found out about an incredible singer/songwriter who influenced me as a musician, and I have a very cool memory of a party. What more did I need?