I DON’T KNOW WHY…

by Steve J.
Originally published on Medium.com/Cuepoint May 29, 2016

 Memorial Day is the “unofficial” start of summer and, if you live in New England, that day — along with the arrival of baseball season— can’t come soon enough. It’s time to ditch the cold and snow of winter, and the rainy tease of spring, for beautiful summer days — preferably spent on Martha’s Vineyard. I remember hearing a track from Norah Jones’ debut album for the first time so vividly on “The Rock” many, many years ago. I’d heard and read all the hype. I’d heard all of my hip friends call her “Snorah Jones.” But she still hadn’t yet come across my radar and I hadn’t made any effort to seek her out.

But one late afternoon that early summer, I was driving my beat up piece-of-shit $500 pick up truck (see “$1000 Car” by the Bottle Rockets; it’s just so true…) out on the Vineyard, when the title song came on WMVY, one of the great community radio stations. Still going strong, too. You remember really good radio stations, don’t you? Before the internet, before streaming, before satellite, the best radio around was never top 40, or classic hits, but community and college radio. You got to know the DJs and it provided a “sense of place.” The good ones, anyway. It seems so quaint now.

So that magical “Cape Light” was in full effect, the windows are down — always down — and I’m driving along beach road. Upon hearing the opening notes, I turned the radio up and then had to pull over as the vocals came in. I just sat there listening; nowhere to go, nowhere to be. All alone. Except for that song. It had been a long time since I had done that, since a song had literally stopped me in my tracks. I knew, instinctively, from what I’d read, what I knew, who it was. “Don’t Know Why.” A great song. Great oblique lyrics. And what exactly and where is the “house of fun” and, more importantly, how can I go there? I waited to hear the back end announcing, just to be sure and, upon confirmation that it was indeed Ms. Jones, I started up that old dog of a truck and headed home.

Here’s a tip for singers (both women and men): that whispering thing is super sexy. It killed during Springsteen’s “Kitty’s Back” or “Sandy” and it kills here. It’s that mysterious thing, you know? More than any other art form, in music, I think what is left unsaid and unplayed — to paraphrase Miles Davis — is sometimes more important than what is played. So if you really want my attention, stop yelling at me and whisper. I promise I’ll listen harder.

Not much beats a day on the Vineyard, but hearing a great song for the first time was definitely a bonus. And, for that matter, not having to leave the $500 truck on the side of the road because it had died — too many times to count — and walk the long walk home, was even better. That was a great day. Memorial Day, nearly fifteen years ago. And I remember it like it was yesterday. Great music does that.

Happy Memorial Day.