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It was just me and Wally Weightlifter two mornings ago at the gym, circa 6:30 a.m. Wally had his barbells stacked in layers and was lying on the bench pumping the bar towards the ceiling,g thinking, I believe, about how much he was going to enjoy looking at his biceps in the mirror after the set.
Six feet away I sat leaning back on the bench a bit, doing my daily curls with 5 pound weights.
Two men, alone, working out, in a sort of early morning meditative state, trying to fight back against life by strengthening ourselves, taking one step forward, getting ahead, establishing an edge, tangling with the world before it had a chance to tangle back.
Then a song came on.
For a while, I listened. Usually, the gym plays heavy metal clang music that doesn’t swirl my belly, makes me think of AC/DC and ZZ Top ear damage. But this tune – let me tell you about this tune – started to create a feeling inside my heart, a memory of some wild party I went to half coherently, or maybe some other venue, but I can’t remember really other than to say sometime quite a while ago.
Turning to Wally, and not thinking about whether it would be awkward or unwelcome or well-received, I said:
“This is a really good song.”
He chuckled and I’m still not sure if a) he thought it was odd I would tell a stranger at the weight room that I liked a song, or b) he thought the way I said it with such sincerity that he found it alarming or disarming, or c) he didn’t know how to respond so he laughed nervously, or d) he was just thinking the same thing about the song and even thought about saying so to me but stopped himself because he didn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable.
“It is a good song,” he said.
“What’s the name of it?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” he said.
The song continued to stimulate my mind as if injecting endorphins and serotonin faster than ChatGPT can write a 2,000-word blog about Sammy Sportface.
Having done a swift Google search on his smartphone between a lifting set, Wally said: “Never Any Reason by Head East.”
Clearly he was curious about the song too, but was showing it in more of an “I eat weights” kind of way rather than “I’m a sentimental and emotional guy” way which is and always has been my way.
“Never would have guessed that,” I said. “One hit wonder, I guess.”
But I really didn’t know the band or the veracity of my one-hit-wonder assertion. You see, I have friends who think they know everything about music, so I feel inferior when it comes to musical knowledge. But as time has passed, I’ve come to believe there’s no reason for me to feel this way because my friends actually don’t know more about music than me, they just like to pretend they do because they know it spirals me into bouts of self-conscious inferiority. They’re musical elitist monstrosities.
Listening to that song made me think of how this band – Head Whatever and what’s the name of the song again gosh I’m getting old and can’t remember things like I used to – one day got together and recorded this good song. Where did the idea come from? Whose idea was it? Was there skepticism and resistance? Did they know once recorded it would be a big hit?
Where does magic come from? I don’t know – that’s why it’s magic. You can’t explain magic; you can only experience it.
The interesting thing about recording a song or writing a blog is in the middle of the creation you have doubts about whether it’s any good or will be or whether you’re wasting time and should try something else. This blog is a great example. Maybe I shouldn’t be writing about my bonding with Barbell Wally about this song because nobody cares but on the other hand I do and that’s important me.
The only way I can approach this is through feelings I have and what I feel is this song by Head North or South or East or West or Head Wherever pleased me more than any song I’ve heard in at least few weeks.
It was the surprising discovery of it all that motivated me to write about the experience this morning; it’s still with me. I had heard the song a few times before but many years ago and I wish the Fez had played it at Casino Night but they never play songs I request except “Major Tom” by David Bowie some 15 years ago.
There’s something especially powerful about hearing a song you haven’t heard in many years that takes you back to a different stage of your life. It reminds you that when you heard that song years earlier, you liked it. The familiarity when you suddenly and unexpectedly hear it again sparks excitement and appreciation, and wonderment about how this band put this tantalizing tune together.
Mysterious and marvelous all of this is and was. Life keeps giving us gifts. We need to appreciate them more than we do. This one I treasure. It’s just a song. Two guys were just pumping iron. It wasn’t much of anything.
But it was something. It meant something, and it means something, and meaning is what we all want.
Imagine yourself heading East listening to this tune in your original Mustang convertible on a warm day in June with a touch of a breeze cooling your sun-burned nose.
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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