How many times have you heard it said: “Look at these kids today, always glued to their smart phones,” followed by frowns of adult disapproval? Well, if we adults of a certain age are honest, we must admit that we were no different. The only difference is that the “iPhones” of our day were transistor radios.
It might be hard for those who never lived during a time when music wasn’t portable to imagine what that was like. The family radio was likely in your kitchen or living room, and you listened to your Mom & Dad’s music. (Or, when you listened to your music, they told you to “turn that darn thing down!”) Perhaps you learned your dance moves watching American Bandstand, Shindig, and Hullabaloo on your black and white TV, but you sure didn’t have anyone to dance with. Or maybe you scraped up enough money to buy some 45s, but most of us couldn’t afford that every time a new hit song came along.
Then came the transistor radio and our young lives changed forever. For the first time, we could take our music wherever we went, listen to whatever radio station we wanted, and play the “darn thing” as loud as we wanted. Imagine our joy the first time we could dance on the beach with our friends, sing along to the “Top 40” on the school bus, and listen to our favorite DJ’s while riding our bikes.
WKBW was my favorite radio station. I listened to legendary Buffalo DJ’s like Sandy Beach in the morning, Danny Neaverth in the afternoon, and the dreamy Tommy Shannon in the evening. WKBW knew its young audience well, giving away free concert tickets, as well as thousands of hit singles and record albums, and funny, kitschy things like the rubber duck I won for saying “Peachy Sandy Beachy, lucky rubber ducky” three times without screwing it up.
The contests were fun, but it was the music of our day that kept our radios glued to our ears. The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Kinks and other members of the “British Invasion” changed the face of rock and roll for us, while Motown bands like the Temptations and the Four Tops moved us with their beat. The Beach Boys’ surf music helped us party by the lake in the summer, and later The Doors’ psychedelic sound was the backdrop of dorm parties during Buffalo’s long, cold winters.
The music spoke to us in ways our parents, teachers and other adults could not. And like every generation of teenagers before and after ours, we believed our music was far superior, truly unique, and more profound, than any music that came before it.
Which caused me to wonder: why does every generation think that the music they listened to as teenagers was the best ever? Was the music really that good, or did it just seem that good because we were highly impressionable teenagers? If so, why, so many years later, is it still the music that hits you in your emotional center like the smell of grandma’s warm bread? Why do we remember all the lyrics of those old songs decades later? And why do we know instantly, after hearing just three opening notes, what song we’re about to hear?
Perhaps it is because popular music speaks to the issues most on teenagers’ minds. Love and heartache. Sex and romance. Friendship and betrayal. Rebellion. Popular music helps each generation form a unique identity, different from their parents’, and helps decode the mysteries and challenges they are facing at the time. To my teenage self, the lyrics written by John Lennon, Stephen Stills, Carole King, and Paul Simon sounded like the life lessons I needed to navigate the adult world. Every successful musical artist that has followed has figured this out.
Teenagers need their pop music more than anyone else. My little transistor radio was a constant companion during those years, and I relied on WKBW’s disc jockeys to keep me in touch with the hot sounds of the day. Today’s teenagers can listen to their favorite artists and songs any time they want, able to choose among thousands of options, but it seems like that freedom comes at the cost of having all your friends know your local station’s “heavy rotation playlist,” or the nationwide broadcast of the weekly Top 40 countdown.
I would love to hear your thoughts on the music of your generation, and what it meant to you. And tell me, please, about the portable music device (Boom Box? Walkman? iPod?) that made a difference in your life. I look forward to reading your comments.
Moxie Gardiner is a writer and gardener who grew up on the West Side of Buffalo, NY. In a previous life she was a journalist, magazine editor, speech writer, and policy wonk. Back in the day she made three solo parachute jumps, went on a test flight in an F-15 fighter jet, and crawled through mud pits at the Jungle Operations Training Course in Panama. She now meditates and practices yoga. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.
Still have that album.
My daughter was a film student and for her senior project wanted to make a movie about a teen age boy and the conflict between him and his dad. She asked my advice on fashion and other period pieces. I told her she needed a transistor radio. Due to the magic of the internet she got one.
Many of the songs that I listened to stir up memories of girlfriends I dated or danced with at Uncle Sam’s. Thanks for your memory evoking piece on growing up in WNY ;we were so fortunate to grow up there
Funny, I was just thinking about this topic the other day and wondering if the music of my generation was really better than what is being played now and why today’s music in both the English and Spanish-speaking worlds doesn’t speak to me like the songs of the past. I think your article provides part of the answer. But I do think that music of us ‘boomers’ has been listened to for many more decades than the music of the 1940s, 1950s, and early 1960s which is takes some searching to find. Maybe there was a special passion that musicians of my generation, a passion for change, a passion for fighting injustice, a rebellion at a status quo that was both unfair and boring. That maybe why a surprising number of young people know some of the music from 50 years ago while my generation (except perhaps Afro-Americans) ignored the music from 50 years before us.
Thank you Joanna, for your thoughts on this. I think you are on to something with regard to how our music spoke to the social issues of the day and inflamed our passions, as well as those of the musicians, and thus still speaks to young people today.
Great article Moxie. You bring up some interesting points, theories and wonderful memories of that special, “Transistor Time”. I was about 6 or 7 year old when the British invasion hit but I clearly remember hearing it on KB radio back in the day as the “older kids” listened in. One of the earliest songs that sticks in my mind from way back then was Herman’s Hermit’s, Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat. There are so many other artists and songs that come to mind like the ones that you mention in your piece. Now that I am older, when I hear the songs from my teenage years starting in the late 60’s and early 70’s, they seem to have much more meaning now that I have had a great deal of life (and love) experience behind me. I understand and can relate much more to what the singer was singing about. As to why we remember all the lyrics to this very day? It’s because THEY PLAYED THOSE DAMN SONGS TO DEATH!!! lol Heavy rotation indeed
Oh John, I loved Herman’s Hermits, that song and many others. They were on my personal “heavy rotation list!” I played my 45’s of their songs, the Beatles, the Stones, Donavan and my other British favs until they were so scratchy you could barely make out the lyrics. And yes, I think you are right. You tend to remember the lyrics of a song you heard 100 times or more! Thanks for your comment.
Great post!
Like our sense of smell (think: Marcel Proust and his madeleines), our sense of hearing has a direct connection to memory. Often, hearing a song from earlier years instantaneously evokes a memory of the time that it was popular! (Or, at least, a time of intense emotion with which I associate the song.) Our transistor radio years were fraught with intensity, and the music we loved was the soundtrack of our lives for a time. Moreover, there have been other periods in my life that were consuming, and hearing music from any of them takes me right back.
Thanks, Mary Ellen for your comment. You are quite right–at times of intense emotion all of our senses are on high alert and imprint what is going on around us in our brains. Thus in later years when we see or hear or smell those things again we are transported back to that time and place. The brain of the human animal is a mysterious and wondrous thing and I never cease to be in awe of it.
Love this! So true about the transistor radio and the beach. I had one with a leather case. I can still remember the smell. Danny Nevareth! I listened to him in bed while counting down to Christmas morning when I was just a little kid, snuggled under the covers with my siblings. My husband loves music trivia and I always guess 1967. It was a year of fabulous music and I was just 12 years old, but I loved all of that music. I’m thankful I had older siblings who helped choose great music for me to listen to. Our Dad actually bought the first Beatles album for us. Even our kids, now in their 30’s, love the music of “our” generation, so much of it was so good. There are many good contemporary artists today, but I don’t think they will endure as the music of the 60’s has.
Thank you for your comment Elizabeth. I agree with you! “Our” music was something special. I love listening to those old songs to this day. I am really curious though, to find out if most people love the music they heard when they were teenagers. I hope members of other generations will weigh in on whether or not they loved the music of their day.