My father raised me on one album, Barry Manilow Live.
Barry released the album in 1977, I was six. My father put it on the turntable every sunday and danced around the living room with me. The love I developed for Barry never released it's hold, often to the detriment of my mid-eighties teenaged social life. Now, I have over 5 hours of Barry Manilow in my Ipod, all the hits and all the new stuff. I am listening to him right now.
Ooh Baby, I love that Spandex.
This weekend I visited friends at their house in upstate New York. Their backyard opens up on 20 acres of woodland and swamp. On Sunday starting at noon we heard gunshots. Not just a pistol. Not like I know the specifics of gunfire, but I can tell the difference between a shotgun-sounds like a sonic boom- and an automatic-sounds like me after beans. Between noon and four I identified four unique weapon discharges. I was freaked out; I desired not to be felled by a stray bullet. My friends had complained to authorities about the violent intrusion on to their lazy 'wish our children and dogs could play in the backyard' weekends before. After four hours something had to be done.
My friends husband plays in a band, therefore he has amplifying equipment at his disposal. He thought about blaring Culture Club, or Skid Row into the woods.
"No," I said, "they might like that. I've got 5 hours of Barry Manilow at the ready."
We hooked it up to two speakers, wrapped my pod in plastic, pressed play and went inside. We play dirty, baby.
After thirty minutes of angst filled, melodic, 150 decibel Manilow, a woman appeared from the woods. She claimed they were having a skeet shooting party and were unaware of my friend's proximity. Success. Truce declared.
What can we learn from this incident? How can Barry Manilow music achieve world peace? Unfortunately, for the Fanilows out there, I think we know.
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