Day One: My Favorite Song

Today marks the beginning of my personal 30 Day Song Challenge journey. The rules are simple. Every day I choose a song that corresponds to a preset list of categories. Today’s is pretty straight forward- my favorite song.

The choosing of a favorite song seems pretty simple. It’s the one song that has been with you through good times and bad. It’s there for you when you need it and sits passively in its designated itunes space when it is not. In my life, I have had many favorite songs. Many of them were fleeting flirtations lacking longevity and any real substance. Designating a tried and true favorite song is not as simple as it seems. There are many criteria to be considered, some being:

• How long have you and said song been together
• How much is your happiness quotient increased by said song
• Does said song make you excited to be alive
• How many/what memories have been attached to said song
• What is it about said song that speaks to you so personally
• Does the knowledge that said song exists increase your faith in humanity
• Does said song bring about any feelings of negativity or horror-if so, then it may be time to dump said song as favorite

These are a basic things to ponder when choosing a favorite song. Mostly though, what appeals to our senses about our favorite song falls into that cavernous abyss where language is of no practical value. Our reactions to our favorite songs appeal to us on an emotional level. For me and my favorite song, the reactions are not only based on nostalgia and emotion but also on the fact that the song has a physical effect on my being. No matter how many times I have heard this song, it still sucker punches me in the gut whenever it plays. It literally makes the hair on my arms stand on edge and sends ice cold shivers down my spine. If happenstance brings it into my life at an inopportune moment there is a good chance I will internally tweak out.

Purple Rain, the album and title track, were a staple in my home as a child. The album and movie were released in 1984, the year of my birth, and showcase my beloved hometown, Minneapolis, Minnesota. Lucky for me, the late 80’s brought us an amazing fitness craze in the form of mini-trampolines (mini tramps) and I spent many an hour bouncing the day away to Prince songs. My mother’s furious crush on the purple God ensured that a Princeless day was a rarity in our household. This also led to the inevitable Prince back-lash I contracted as a tween-to-teen. I turned my back on the Minneapolitan legend, writing him off as a dated has been. He was someone of my Mom’s generation whose sound had become archaic and represented all that was tacky about the 1980’s. It wasn’t until my Senior year in High School when I would find Prince again.

During my Junior year of High School my friendship group shifted and broadened. For the first time I had a legitimate circle of friends and with that came exposure to a variety of likes, interests, drama, and tragedy. The last day of Junior year was spent traipsing around the Twin Cities, and eventually rural Wisconsin, with these new(ish) friends. One of them had been an acquaintance whom was slowly blossoming into a friend. As I found out later that summer, at his funeral, his favorite album was Purple Rain. The loss of life of someone so close and so young was shocking to us who were barely emotionally equipped to deal with such tragedy. We spent many a humid summer evening driving around blasting the Purple Rain album and attempting to deal with the gamut of emotions barraging our adolescent senses. Although I cannot claim him as a close personal friend I was profoundly changed by his passing and still attribute him with giving me back my favorite song/album.

A few years later I found myself, at the age of 20, entering into the cohabitative phase of an increasingly serious relationship. Through this domestic partnership a record player was brought into my life and a love for vinyl soon flourished. My first outing to specifically buy records happened the summer of 2004 at a small record store in Saint Paul named Roots Cellar. That day I bought George Michael’s “Faith”, Tina Turner’s “Private Dancer”, The Pointer Sisters “So Excited!” and Prince’s “Purple Rain.” The album cover features him on his motorcycle clad in a purple velvet jacket in a seedy Minneapolis alley with Apollonia 6 posing seductively in a nearby doorway. Afternoons were spent that summer blaring Purple Rain and dancing. Later, we found ourselves with dog. Often I would sweep my little bundle of canine bliss up in my arms and slow dance him around the apartment to the epic ballad.

Purple Rain the movie holds a special place in my heart because the main setting, First Avenue, has been a seminal establishment in my development. From the variety of amazing shows, to SNDP (Sunday Night Dance Party), to Too Much Love (the current incarnation of SNDP only on Saturday nights), First Ave has marked some of the most important moments of my maturation process. Plus, the final scene of the movie when Prince performs Purple Rain, proving all the haters wrong, is so completely badass that you have to give the dude major props.

I have seen Prince live twice. The first time was with my best friend, Ned, at Excel Energy Center in Saint Paul, MN . The tickets were expensive, our view was obstructed, and I was completely unfamiliar with the Musicology album, but even so, Prince brought it. The second time, which happened a little over two weeks ago, was at the Forum in Los Angeles with my BF Kyle and our lovely friends Chris and Margaret. Although we were a bit far up, this past Prince experience was a game changer. He brought energy the likes of which I have never seen. The man gyrated, showcased elaborate outfits, had hot twins as back up dancers, played all the hits with enthusiasm and style, jammed, rocked out, and showcased the unique Price sex appeal that launched him to superstardom in the 80’s. His dynamism and tenacity paired with his exceptional musical talents make him, in my opinion, one of the greatest living artists of the day. I highly recommend everyone take in one of his shows, fan or not, no matter what the ticket price is.

For these reasons, and many more, Purple Rain is my favorite song.

Purple Rain lyrics

I never meant to cause you any sorrow
I never meant to cause you any pain
I only wanted one time to see you laughing
I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain

Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
I only wanted to see you bathing in the purple rain

I never wanted to be your weekend lover
I only wanted to be some kind of friend, hey
Baby, I could never steal you from another
It's such a shame our friendship had to end

Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
I only wanted to see you underneath the purple rain

Honey, I know, I know, I know times are changin'
It's time we all reach out for something new, that means you too
You say you want a leader, but you can't seem to make up your mind
And I think you better close it and let me guide you to the purple rain

Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
If you know what I'm singin' about up here, come on raise your hand
Purple rain, purple rain
I only want to see you, only want to see you in the purple rain

Next up: My Least Favorite Song

Ode to Coney Island

It is difficult to articulate what exactly it is about Coney Island that I find so lovely. Strolling along the boardwalk there is a faint lingering of still sadness. Although this particular day is humid the high dew point is not what accounts for the heaviness I sense around me. The Coney Island of today is a kitsch filled dilapidated corpse of the grandiose Mecca it had once been. It is difficult to imagine that one hundred (yes one hundred!) years ago this place was teeming with bourgeoisie Victorian families in search of leisure. Even before that it was a tawdry respite for the workingman. Walking along the boardwalk I cannot help but be enthralled with the breadth of existence this place has had. The existence of Coney Island is at once comforting, disturbing, and strangely perplexing.

While sitting at Cha Cha’s, a Coney Island boardwalk bar I am struck by what can only be described as time standing still. Maybe it’s the cheap Sangria but what strikes me about Coney Island is its likeness to a skipping record. It is like a proverbial needle stuck in an eternal groove playing the same endless melody. Time has no place here. Coney Island’s needle is stuck and cannot work itself out and if it could, I am not sure I would want it to. The magic of Coney Island exists in its mesmerizing whimsy. My experience wandering the boardwalk is akin to that of decades of precursors. My own digital photos are even similar in appearance to those taken while film was still in fashion. Located in a large metropolitan area, what is great about Coney Island is that it feels as though it should not exist. Having been to Chicago’s Navy Pier it is perplexing why Coney Island’s fate hasn’t steered toward a more corporate future.

In the mid 20^th century Walt Disney’s disgust with Coney Island inspired him to create his own brand of amusement park. According to an essay appearing in the Journal of Popular Culture (June 1992-cited below) Disney criticized Coney Island for being “dirty, disorganized, poorly run, garish” and “honky-Tonk” (Weinstein 131). Today the island stands in an even greater state of dilapidation. However, what draws me to Coney Island are the exact reasons that turned Disney off. New York is filled with thousands of spaces that serve as a beacon to the past but none transport me the way Coney Island does. Its gruffness makes it undeniably attractive. Maybe it’s because I’m predisposed to amusement park enthusiasm or maybe it’s because the unrecognized potential I see at Coney Island mirrors my own. If Coney Island were a record it would be a beat up Charlie Parker album. Both share a past of amazing success and startling despair. The vinyl would have pops, screeches, and skips in places that would make a music aficionado cringe but, to me, those defects are gold because they are the interesting part of the story. To appreciate the defects is to appreciate/acknowledge the presence (passing) of time as something larger than oneself. The battered and tawdry edifice of the boardwalk is characteristic of what I find so beautiful about the place. There is no beauty in perfection.

A Brief History of Coney Island

Coney Island is a five mile span of beach on the Atlantic Ocean in Brooklyn. It was once separated from Brooklyn by a creek which is how it garnered its “island” status. ‘Discovered’ by Henry Hudson in 1609, it was “part of the land sold to the English in 1643 by the Dutch West India Company” (Weinstein 136). The name Coney Island derives from the rabbits, or “conies”, that inhabited the marshy island at the time. In 1824 construction began to develop it into a seaside resort. By the 1870s it was almost completely stripped of its rustic charms. In the late 1800s a corrupt politician by the name of John Y. McKane had Coney Island in a stranglehold. It had earned a reputation for “immorality, vulgarity, crime, vice, and public disorder” thanks to Mckane’s sanctioning of “voting fraud, illegal land deals, gambling, and prostitution.” In my opinion tarty histories are the best kind (hence-bona roba). In 1894 McKane was sent to the penitentiary and the clean up of the Island began. The reform of Coney Island coincided with late 19^th century advances in technology culminating in the birth of the modern amusement park. Coney Island was transformed from a male dominated den of hedonism to a family friendly (relatively) paradise.

Capitalizing on the practice of selling leisure as a commodity, Coney Island quickly became a fashionable vacation destination. The amusement parks at Coney Island emphasized design, illusion, spectacle, and ambiance and catered to mostly middle-class patrons. America’s first roller coaster opened at Coney Island in 1884 and maxed out at a whopping six miles per hour.

Luna Park

One of the first amusement parks erected was Luna Park, the largest and most popular of the three main parks, which featured live spectacular shows. In an essay appearing in the Smithsonian, Bruce Watson writes, “Luna Park was a fairyland of moons, lagoons and towers. By day it looked like a wedding cake, and by night it looked like a dream.” At Luna Park viewers could be awed by live re-creations of public disaster. One of their main attractions featured the repeated burning of a four story building complete with firemen battling a fiery blaze and people hurling themselves into safety nets.

At Luna Park patrons could take a trip to the moon. Upon a swaying ship replete with the smoke of lift off and starry panoramas, riders would be transported through space to the moon’s alien surface. Once there they were taken through celestial caverns and fed bits of green cheese offered to them by lunar maidens. Other adventures included trips to the North Pole, 20,000 leagues under the sea, and to the Streets of Delhi (with “an astonishing number of real Eastern People”).

There was also a onetime electrocution of an aging elephant. Allegedly the elephant, Topsy, had killed three park visitors, one of whom was attempting to feed her a lit cigarette. After surviving carrots laced with poison it was decided that Thomas Edison would use Topsy to “prove the power of alternating current” (Watson-cited below). Luna Park capitalized on the turn-of-the-century public’s fascination with death, horror, catastrophe, tragedy, and technology.

Dreamland

Dreamland was another of the first three main Coney Island amusement parks. It was built by a group of politicians to be the “Gibraltar of the Amusement World.” Lit by one million light bulbs on its 375-foot Beacon Tower, Dreamland’s magnificent illumination could be seen from miles away in the night sky. If that is not enticing enough, it also featured partially nude female sculptures at its entrance, hired theatrical stars to run concessions, offered live spectacles (such as the Fall of Pompeii), featured a Lilliputian village inhabited by 300 midgets, simulated submarine and airplane rides, a three ring circus, real infant incubators (complete with premature babies), and a ballroom that could accommodate 25,000 dancers. It also had rides, fun houses, and animal shows.

Steeplechase

The last of the three main amusement parks was Steeplechase which catered primarily to working class clientele. Steeplechase featured rapid-motion rides with “sexual overtones”. In rides such as the Wedding Ring, Barrel of Love, and Dew Drop men and women were thrown together creating compromising and embarrassing results. Steeplechase produced cheeks reddened with embarrassment over such improprieties as a lifted skirt or blown off hat. It offered its patrons a reprieve from the harsh standards of Victorian idealism. Revealing my own childish sense of humor I am amused to no end by the fact that Steeplechase had a ride entitled “Blow Hole”. I do not know what this ride entailed but am pretty sure that the image it rouses in my own imagination is most likely better than reality.

On the Boardwalk

Outside on the boardwalk the atmosphere differed. The boardwalk offered numerous types of entertainment from mechanical rides to shooting galleries to freak shows. Also, on the boardwalk, could be found some of the classic Coney Island lurid attractions such as saloons, bathhouses, and more sexually explicit themed exploits. Also to be found on the boardwalk were soon to be famous performers such as Irving Berlin as a singing waiter and Cary Grant on stilts promoting Steeplechase.

The 1910s brought great change for Coney Island. Strict gambling laws were passed in the state of New York and Coney Island lost the draw of its three horseracing tracks. In 1911 Dreamland was completely destroyed in an accidental fire and was never rebuilt. Coney Island was beginning to lose its novelty and excitement to other forms of entertainment. By 1919 Luna Park was turned over to creditors and “the creative spirit behind much of the amusement industry’s technical and visual innovation was lost” (Weinstein 144-145).

The depression caused a major decline in the amusement industry. Only about 500 amusement parks remained in 1936 as compared to 1500 in 1919. Due to very little spending money, large masses and competition prices had to be lowered. According to Weinstein, “The ‘daytrippers’ to Coney left behind on the beach and streets scattered remnants of discarded food, broken bottles, paper wrappings, and other refuse. The Island’s reputation further worsened with its emphasis on ballyhoo, girlie shows, and crooked skill games.” (146) I have no idea what ballyhoo or crooked skill games are but it all still sounds amazing to me.

Sadly, another fire wreaked havoc at Coney Island in 1944 burning Luna Park to the ground not to be rebuilt.

Two main staples still present at modern day Coney Island are the Wonder Wheel and the Cyclone. What differentiates the Wonder Wheel from other Ferris Wheels are its rocking cages that slide along tracks inside a 135-foot disk. According to Watson the Wonder Wheel replaced the Statue of Liberty in 1920 as the first sight immigrants see as they enter New York Harbor. The Cyclone was built in 1927 and features a 60 mph drop. When it first opened a wait could be as long as five hours. Charles Lindbergh was quoted as saying that the Cyclone presents “a greater thrill than flying an airplane at top speed” (Watson). I know, I’ve been on it and I nearly died.

In the 1940s television became the new popular form of entertainment and Coney Island was able to maintain its status as the “capital of amusement” despite its limited offerings and deteriorated condition. New amusement parks were just not being built.

Steeplechase remained the last standing of the three original parks. Its tenure lasted 68 years, finally succumbing to the urban decay of the Island on September 20, 1964. Modern day Coney Island, with its carnival like atmosphere, most resembles Steeplechase.

Modern Day Coney Island

Although being there is somewhat akin to traversing a ghost town I think that Watson is accurate in his comparing Coney Island to a phoenix. Quite literally it has overcome multiple fires but it also, though a little more worse for the wear, has stood the test of time. While it may not draw the crowds of yesteryear it is still a fascinating specimen of Americana. Condemned in 1969, the Cyclone was set for demolition but ultimately saved by a petition signed by fans around the world. At seventy years old, it was rebuilt piece by piece and it still attracts plenty of visitors today. Coney Island’s ability to endure from generation to generation, amidst huge cultural shifts and waning attention spans astounds me (and fills me with a perturbing sense of hope).

In 1980 Dick Zigum, a Yale School of Drama graduate, began Sideshows by the Seashore which produces special events to rejuvenate Coney Island by harkening back to the days of side shows and freak shows. This past summer (2010) Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson reigned as King Neptune and Queen Mermaid in the popular Mermaid Parade. Sideshow by the Seashore features sword swallowers, contortionists, fire-eaters, and more.

Also this past summer, what was formerly Astro-Land reopened as Luna Park. The new management has plans for the park to hearken back to the days of the former Luna Park.

Only time will tell what is to become of the American cultural institution known as Coney Island. Its ubiquity remains untouched. My hope is that it endures many more generations without losing all of its gruff charms.

Roadside America-Sideshow by the Seashore

Lawrence Ferlinghetti- A Coney Island State of mind

“Disneyland and Coney Island: Reflections on the Evolution of the Modern Amusement Park” by Raymond M. Weinstein from the Journal of Popular Culture June 1, 1992 131-164

“Three’s a Crowd, they say, but not at Coney Island!” by Bruce Watson, Smithsonian, Dec96 Vo.27, Issue 9