Buckle up folks, this is a long one.
I know I said that I did not adhere to genre prejudice; but if there is one style of music that I would set as THE music that started it all for me, it would be hard Rock. Specifically, the dirty denim bands. These were the bands always looked like they needed a shower. They would stare at me from the phots on the album, I knew that they to show me all the horrible things I was warned about in Sunday School, and I was ready for it. Saxon, Fastway, Alice Cooper, these were the bands firmly imbedded into my musical foundation. And if there was one band that sat atop the heap, it was ACDC. As far as I am concerned, they were the kings of dirty denim. You can almost smell ACDC music, and it smells of alcohol, cigarettes and sweat. When I discovered them at the age of 10, it was quite a scene. But I’m not here to talk about that moment. Nor will I talk about the connection Highway to Hell gave Katy and I, that one is for me. I will tell you about one of my cherished memories of her. When she found herself with an ACDC song on repeat in her brain.
It was Saturday. One of those cold and damp days of fall. When we got out of bed that morning we went from the bed straight to the couch. I made breakfast while Katy swiped REELS on Facebook in the other room. As I cooked bacon, I asked her if she wanted to do anything that day. She yelled back to me “I would like to look at paint colors for the bathroom, Home Depot.” She loved DIY projects. She would watch all of the fixer upper shows and come away from them with ideas for improving the house in one way or another. The problem was that Katy did not really have a lot of commitment to these projects. It was inevitable that she would reach a point where it was no longer fun, or it would get too complicated, and she would slowly abandon the project. Her master bathroom remodel, initially envisioned as a quick refresh, ballooned into a six-year odyssey of delays and unfinished work, ultimately requiring outside help. I hated it when she would drag me along with her. This was in the days before I was medicated. I would turn into a sulking six-year-old. I could be an asshole about things in those days. Katy was very patient in those early years. She was looking out the window and I could see her changing her mind. “Actually, that’s too far to drive today. Whatever we do I want it to be close to home” Oh thank God, I whispered to myself. We bounced a few more ideas between us, but in the end, we landed on ordering Chinese and watching a movie. Couch Potatoes is it.
We spent the rest of the morning in that same spot. Playing games on our phones and creating various lists of pop culture stuff: what are you top ten noir detective movies?-that kind of list. When lunch rolled around, we ordered too much food and settled in to decide on a movie. Katty was in the mood for something funny, but not silly, smart funny. High humor if you will. For me that was Monty Python or any of the films from the Mel Brooks catalogue. I proposed watching Something About Mary, we both loved that one. But Katy said she wasn’t in the mood for Ben Stiller. Then I suggested watching School of Rock, that was one of my comfort movies. She looked at me. “You know, and you’re not gonna like this, I did not like that one.” She mimicked a shy school girl pretending to feel guilty. I frowned a bit and said, “Well I think you should give it another chance. Besides, you’ve not watched it me. Might be a different experience.”
Katy was not a huge Jack Black fan at this point. She had enjoyed his dramatic roles, but in her opinion everything else he did was just erratic and he felt out of control. So, I was not surprised when I learned this information. She would eventually grow to at least tolerate him as I forced his various projects into our entertainment bubble. She sat with that for a few seconds and then she smiled and said “Fuck it, let’s watch it.” She was sweet like that. We got ourselves into movie mode and clicked play. Movie mode for us was a serious thing. Especially when it was just the two of us. We would discuss the movie, often pausing to dig deep on scene. These discussions would range from a serious debate about character development or choices that actors make over to picking out the flaws or mocking the horrible acting. We spanned the entire range of film commentary, from the insightful reviews of Siskel and Ebert to the comedic riffs of Mystery Science Theater 3000.
As the opening scene plays out and the camera floats into the bar we see Mr. Black twisting and flopping his way across the stage. She turns to me and says “See, frantic.” Once the story started to play out Katy became more interested. She started asking me questions about the bands Mr. Sneebly would introduce to the kids. We talked about Zeppelin, and how they changed modern rock. We talked about RUSH and their dedicated fan base. She wanted to know more about The Ramones, were they really brothers, did they ever change melodies? She picked my brain for every bit of information she could get from me about this music that drove me. As the credits roll, we are treated to the kids performing their rendition of A Long Way to the Top, by ACDC. Katy really perked up during this, “well this is adorable.” She bounced on the couch, gave me jazz hands a couple times and hummed along until the song faded out. She enjoyed the movie, she could not deny that. I must have been projecting these thoughts onto my face because when she turned in my direction she laughed “Okay, smart ass, Don’t get cocky. Yes, I liked the movie much more this time and yes, I DO think that watching it with you made a difference.” I was cleaning up our Chinese food pile and looked at her,. “You know why?” “If I say yes, will you skip whatever BS you were gonna feed me and move along?” I looked up at her, smiled and, in my best shy country boy imitation is said “BECAUSE YOU LOVE ME!!”
You ever get a song stuck in your head? One that digs in like a tick and pesters you for hours, maybe days. Sometimes it’s not that bad if it’s a song you like. Other times it can feel like you are being waterboarded. I was noticing that my wife had new earworm. She was humming it while doing a crossword one night, kicking her foot up and down the beat. One day she was humming it at her desk while she surfed YouTube. After a while it just became one of those songs for her.
Now we come to cherished part. Fast forward a couple of years and we are in the back yard with the dogs. I am desperately trying to teach Baxter to fetch. Baxter was our basset hound; he was not an energetic dog, and he often tired out after one time across the yard to grab the tennis ball. This day he impressed me by fetch the ball twice. He was laying in the grass staring at me with those sad eyes. Katy was sitting on the steps of the deck encouraging Baxter as our other dog, a chihuahua named Gromit, stood just next to her, wagging her tail and vibrating (As small dogs often do) staring at Katy hoping to be picked up. I had brought one of my Bluetooth speakers outside with us and had the local classic rock station on. We just finished listening to a Billy Joel tune when the iconic guitars and bagpipes that open A Long Way to the Top began to play. I should tell you guys that to this point I am not sure Katy had ever heard the original version of the song. Only the movie version and whatever version she was playing in her head when she hummed it. At first she didn’t react. When the first chorus kicked in she I could tell something was brewing in that wonderful brain of hers. She cocked her head a bit like a dog leaning toward a strange sound.
“Who is this?” she asked. “ACDC” I responded. She sat up and looked at me, with slight confusion on her face. “That’s the band with the silly guy in the school uniform right?” This would be how she would verify ACDC’s identity for the remainder of our marriage, it’s also one of those things that I am missing real hard. “Yep. That’s the one.” I was still in the yard. Baxter had made his way over to me and flopped himself down in my lap, so I was going nowhere for bit. Katy remained in her spot on the steps, she had picked up Gromit by this point, and she continued to listen. Suddenly she perked up, “Hey, I know this song.” I loved these moments with her. She would often go into detective mode when something was challenging her. And she loved a good mystery. I could see her trying to pinpoint where she had heard the song.
After a few more bars I saw her face light up, she found it. “Wait, is this the song the kids were singing at the end of School of Rock!?” I smiled and answered yes, I was massaging Baxter’s ears, another activity I miss. Then her face squinched into confusion again. “ACDC wrote it?” she questioned. I was impressed that she recognized them, she always struggled to keep up with my favorite vocalists. As I looked at her, I could tell she was not convinced I was telling her the truth. In her defense, I did have a tendency to exaggerate purposefully to confuse her or get her agitated. Nothing mean, just harmless playing. “Are you fucking with me?” I was starting to agitated now. “Yes hon, ACDC wrote the song.” “That little guy in the uniform wrote this song?” she asked. “Well, I am not privy to the inner workings of ACDC’s song writing process. But I am sure that Angus had something to do with it.” And then I said, “Why the surprise. You’ve heard ACDC before, you like a few of their songs.” She gave me the kind of look a parent gives their child when they discover (SPOILER ALERT!) Santa isn’t real. “Well, I don’t really ‘like’ any of their songs. A few are fun? But this one tells a story, and you know how this girl loves a good story song.” I could not argue that one. But now it was staring to bug me. Nightcrawler and Highway to Hell told stories! In my head I was preparing my counterpoint when she stood up and proclaimed “MATTHEW! I want Starbucks. Take me to Starbucks and you might get lucky tonight!” Again, I couldn’t argue against that.
ACDC would pop up in our lives a few more times during our marriage, but this is the moment that sticks in my mind. Like a song. I can play it over in my head whenever I want.
