By Douglas Barr Boilesen

The "Our Song" Phenomenon

I grew-up in a suburb of Lincoln, Nebraska in the 1960's called Eastridge. Like suburbs throughout the United States, it had a basement that included a recreation room, aka rec room. We had a shuffleboard "triangle" inlaid into our tiled basement floor and it provided some occasional entertainment. But the real fun was up the street at the Keister's. There were three Keister boys and their ages were all within five years so it was easy for me to knock on their door and find someone at home to play with. It was the 60's where you play with friends, not hang with friends, and over the years we played pool and played alot of cards and ate alot of Valentino's pizza in that rec room. Looking back, that room could be called "the social center of the dateless" as most activities were pretty much a guy thing. But we had fun and one of my strongest memories is the sound of the records we played on the RCA Victor 45rpm record player that sat in the corner of that room.

Dave was the oldest Keister brother and he loved Doris Day and Petula Clark. I can still hear him playing Downtown. Doug was the middle son and had a 45 rpm Italian version of Downtown. For some reason playing that seemed to irritate Dave. Doug's bedroom was in the basement and in that room he had built what you could only call a monster sound system. The speakers were Voice of the Theatre, big 15 inch cones inside huge grilled boxes. He had made a custom control panel while working at ISCO, a local manufacturer, and it had a lot of switches and lights. We used to kid him about that control panel because it didn't seem like most of the buttons or lights did anything. I don't remember the sound being that good but he could crank it up, much to the displeasure of his parents. As I recall, the Yardbirds I'm a Man was always turned up extremely loud by Doug at the end of the song. Kim was closest to my age and I remember his collection of 33 1/3 LPs and his Harmon Kardon component stereo system. I think he had all of the Association albums and I can still picture those record albums neatly lined up on the top of the upright piano.

So there was a wide range of sounds coming out of that basement. "de gustibus non est disputandum" as the Romans would say (there's no accounting for taste). But if I was to name one song that I connect with all of those record playing days and nights at the Keister house, it has to be the 45rpm Red River Rock by Johnny and the Hurricanes. It's a record that was literally played hundreds of times. So it's probably natural that it's embedded in my memory. I think anyone that grows up with music has associations with certain songs. For couples that association is sometimes designated as an "Our Song". It's music that is remembered for a particular reason and it becomes attached to a certain part of your life.

Hearing "Red River Rock" takes me back to the Keister basement in 1964. But this time travel isn't based on one special moment or the fact that anyone in our group thought Red River Rock was a great record to be remembered for all time. Rather, this memory is the result of the sheer number of revolutions that record turned, transmitting its sounds into my ears, permeating my brain and merging with countless other memories of that room. In the end, it's an embedded song that does trigger memories. And just like selecting a nostaglic record from the Jukebox it plays a song in my head and my heart. Music remembered. Music with associations. Music that resonates and is important for its connections.

So I would close this phonograph recollection with a few questions: If you think about it, do you have a song playing in your past? When you hear it, where does it take you? Is it an "Our Song"? Does it trigger a specific memory?

Not to sound like a broken record, but I will replay the theme song of Friends of the Phonograph with one final track: Edison's Phonograph is an invention that began a revolution. The phonograph gave us recorded music. The Phonograph allowed an "Our Song" or any sound to be heard whenever and wherever you wanted. On December 6, wish the Phonograph a Happy Birthday. It's an invention worth remembering. Its magic is still alive.

Click here to listen to exerpt (4.8 MB) from Red River Rock - (full version available for purchase on iTunes)

Click here to listen to exerpt (5.4 MB) from I'm a Man - (full version available for purchase on iTunes)

Click here to listen to exerpt (5.5 MB) from Downtown - (full version available for purchase on iTunes)