There’s no time machine like music. On the other hand,
nostalgia just isn’t what it used to be.
I’ve produced oldies music marathons frequently since 1979, when hits from the entire 1960s decade poured out of my stereo for ofttimes 32 continuous hours, to my guests’ utter delight.
Long about 2016, it seemed to make better sense to feature one year at a time instead of all ten. With 205 songs (1966 was a particularly creative year) on the playlist, Lina and I deemed to split the extravaganza over two Fridays that July. With this single-year pattern set, we continued in 2017 with ‘67, 2018 with ‘68, etc. The 60s ended, but why not keep going into 1970, ‘71, ‘72?
How does one compress a whole year of dynamic music into one brief evening? Against all oddities, Lina and I accomplished this feat on Saturday, July 27, 2024, a rainy monsoon night in Silver City. The invitation proclaimed the 50th anniversary of 1974, which theme echoed last year’s 1973 and 1963 presentations. For 1974, 120 twenty hits would need 5.5 hours of run time. In the interest of concision, I pared that down to a mere 4 hours, 20 minutes.
With Rose Cottage enveloped in yet another remodeling project, we looked around for a different venue. Jean-Robert Beffort’s A-Space proved ideal: 4,000 square feet of gallery, studio, and maker workshop at 7th and Texas Street downtown. It’s wild and colorful inside and out, exploding with trippy imagination and craft.
J-R kindly cleared some big pieces out of the main open area, creating a spacious dance floor. A bar and tables towards the west wall held snacks and drinks. I borrowed a couple giant loudspeakers from KURU and perched my command center on a stage along the east wall. A podium of sorts held my laptop, and on a small table sat the amplifier with its built-in mic mixer. Facing the dance floor leaned a month now playing poster, which kept track of the organizing principle: chronology. First tune, “Jessica” by the Allman Brothers Band, released in January of ‘74, began precisely at 6:00 p.m.
In a holdover from my radio disc-jockeying days, patrons played “Name It and Win It,” wherein they had until the end of the song to declare the artist, title, and answer an occasional trivia question, such as who wrote it or who recorded the piece originally. Some songs were easy and obvious, but I always include a few obscure numbers just to keep things lively. You know you’re enjoying yourself when you utter “I should’ve known that” or “I haven’t heard this in years.” Everybody was kung-fu fighting!
Everyone danced, individually or in couples. We feasted on chocolate cheesecake and gulped fizzy water, ginger-lime tea, pinot noir, and IPAs. Pews and benches flanked the gaily enameled floor. When not gyrating and conversing, we admired the broad variety of art on exhibit: oversized paintings by local artists, fabric panels, wood, metal, and clay sculptures, plus J-R’s own intricate assemblages.
The night began with one instrumental and ended with another: “The Entertainer” by Scott Joplin, as played by Marvin Hamlisch from The Sting. In between, we’d heard soul, rock, funk, and acoustic numbers, all tied to that certain 12 months. Kudos to the guests, all of whom endured the entire program from beginning to end and made it memorable. Huzzah! We can hardly wait to get together again.
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