Aja

Steely Dan - "Aja"

Released September 23, 1977

Personnel:

Donald Fagen - lead vocals, keyboards

Walter Becker -  bass guitar, lead guitars (various tracks)

Session musicians (not all listed):

Larry Carlton - guitar

Chuck Rainey - bass guitar

Steve Gadd - drums

Bernard Purdie - drums

Rick Marotta - drums

Wayne Shorter - tenor saxophone

Strolling down musical memory lane, the above-referenced album is another on my list of sentimental all-time favorites. "Aja" is yet another example of an album that is like a fine wine. It keeps getting better with age. Steely Dan reached their peak with this album, assembling a wealth of musical talent to fulfill the template Donald Fagen and Walter Becker set before them. From all accounts, this was a painstaking effort by all involved. 

As previously described with my reflections of Elton John's "Rock of the Westies", this album is one in which I shared a real bond with my dad. While Steely Dan had been around for a few years before, and produced some great rock songs ("Reelin' in the Years", for one), this album was the one that captured my dad's attention. Prior to this album, Steely Dan was probably more well-known as a rock outfit, though their albums always suggested they were much more than just that. When the first single, "Deacon Blues", emerged on the radio in late 1977, my dad at this point had divorced my mom and married another woman. He was no longer living in my house. Unlike Elton John's album, this was not one that was brought home and I got to listen vicariously through him. 

I do, however, have distinct memories of dad picking my siblings and I up every second Friday for our weekend visitation with him. It was roughly a 45 minute drive between towns, and he always had the radio on during those trips. Sitting in the backseat, staring at the winter darkness out the window, I often got lost in the music. Part of that soundtrack was the lead single from "Aja", "Deacon Blues". I recall dad being very taken by this song. I listened intently to the music, and it had become synonymous with those trips along the desolate backroads. The song had a melancholic feel to it, though I didn't fully understand what it was about. I could tell whenever it came on that my dad felt both the music and lyrics deeply. 

Through 1978, "Deacon Blues" was still in heavy rotation on our most popular AM radio station. The song permeated my environment, from those drives with my dad through to memories of trips around my hometown to summer Little League games. The music of Steely Dan, and particularly of this song, had become an intrinsic part of my childhood memories at that time. So many years later, this is one of those pieces of music that magically transports to me to a distinct time and place, and conjures up so many details of these times and places in my mind's eye. 

I can see the inside of dad's Volkswagen Beetle, and even remember how it smelled like a new car. I can see dad reaching over into his glove compartment for his green Chiclets, which he chewed like no tomorrow (he had recently quit smoking his pipe, and he was under a lot of stress). I can even smell the Chiclets on his breath as I think back now on it! I can also remember feeling a sense of foreboding as we got closer to dad's town and home. There was an air of trepidation, knowing that his wife was going to get drunk that night and there would be yelling and screaming through the night, and even plates being thrown around from time to time.  

Hearing this song, I can see my avocado green baseball uniform that I was so proud of wearing, and the parks in my hometown that I played at. I can see my best friend's house, where I spent so much of my free time that summer riding my bike to, and hanging out with him. I see the main park along the bay and waterfront of my hometown, where every summer the excitement of the international speedboat competition drew everyone from around and beyond to watch. I see the local shopping plaza, my church, and my school. All within the same central intersection of the "downtown" area. I see my front and backyard, where I spent all summer playing hide and seek or just out enjoying the summer sun. I get this wave of nostalgia, good and bad, from hearing this one song off Steely Dan's "Aja".

 Later in life, the album would come back to my radar. In my mid-twenties, after striking out and failing on my own, I found myself at a fork in the road. My dad had finally gotten through to me to leave where I was and come and stay under his roof. By this time, dad was in his 50's. Still married to the alcoholic, but at this point they had resigned themselves somewhat to their fate of being stuck together. At first, my step-mother welcomed me to her home. Dad resolved to whip me into shape at that time (mentally, not physically), by instilling me with some much-needed self-discipline. Dad, being an administrator of a school board, was a far more organized and disciplined man than I was (or ever will be). I had been on my own for better or worse at that point for at least 5 years. I had run into all kinds of problems with school and money, and finally dad was ready to step up and take me on. 

So, at the age of 25, I found myself living under my dad and step-mom's roof. While I had visited there on weekends throughout my youth, it was never my home. Her son, my step-brother of the same age, had moved out at that point. It was just the three of us. As mentioned, it started off really well. Much to my chagrin, my dad strong-armed me into going back to my school through the Adult Continuing Education program run by his school board. I had selected an architectural drafting course, for the lack of anything else interesting from their brochure. My dad also told me that he had lined up a job interview for me through one of his former students who worked at a local drugstore. All this was overwhelming to me at first, but I really had no choice but to comply. 

I went off to school every morning with my dad, who worked right around the corner. Through dad's connections with the high school, he got me an old drafting table that we brought home and put up in my room to work on assignments. Dad slept in his own bedroom across the hall from me, and at night after the step-mother had had her fill, we sat and watched tv together. Two or 3 nights a week and on weekends, I went to work in the drugstore, where I was miserable (but stuck it out). After about a month or two of this routine, I started to feel better about myself. I was more productive, and I had a goal to finish my year-long course. Dad of course was pushing me to think beyond the completion of my course and to start strategizing long-term. While this arrangement was suitable for the short-term, he made it fairly clear that I wouldn't be staying there the rest of my life. I wasn't particularly planning on that either. 

During this time, dad and I found a path in which we bonded over common interests. Our strongest bond was our love and appreciation of music. Dad had his portable CD player, and on nice days where we had some time off (mainly Saturdays or Sundays), we made our way to the front porch with the stereo and our cold beers. Dad and I had matching sombreros, and we looked like complete rednecks to cars passing along his quiet street. These were such terrific moments, looking back, as we both enjoyed our beer and music immensely. We listened to everything from The Beatles to Hank Williams. The step-mother was tolerant of this to a point, as long as the meat eventually made its way on to the bbq and she had a sufficient supply of wine. She joined us later on in the afternoon out on the porch, after which the music had to be turned down. 

Inevitably, dad would pop in his "Aja" CD and we would both become very reflective of the music we were listening to. This was when I truly became exposed to the whole album, though by this point I was familiar enough with a lot of it. We listened intently to the sounds and notes, the arrangements, the intricate guitar solos, and amazing percussion featured throughout. Truly, I had come to realize just how special and great this album was. Dad had always known just how good it was, but now he was sharing that with me. These are moments frozen in time when I go back and listen to it now. 

As I wrapped up my course and received a diploma, dad was on the verge of retiring. During this remarkable period in both of our lives, I had finally found the resolve to go after my dream that I never believed possible - to live and teach English overseas. With this goal firmly established, dad encouraged me in every way possible to go out and achieve this goal. That meant moving back to Toronto and obtaining a TEFL Certificate. That represents a whole other chapter in my life, which I may or may not delve into at a later time. To make a long story short, I did that and carved out my path toward ending up in Mongolia for two years. At any rate, after roughly a year and a half under dad's roof I was ready to set forth. Dad at this point was my strongest support in terms of giving me the boost in confidence to go out and get what I wanted. He had recently retired, and I saw firsthand how hard he worked to reach his ultimate position of Director of Education for his school board. I saw his colleagues past and present praising him for his dedication to his work, and for many times having the courage to make unpopular decisions for the betterment of the students under his charge. 

Once dad retired, he immediately enrolled in a course through the very same continuing education program I had just finished. He chose to expand his skills in carpentry, and once he finished that course, he built a workshop in his backyard to make wood crafts, mainly items of furniture. He made it very clear that he was not looking at this as a hobby, but more as a second career. He went out and bought the tools he needed, and honed his skills to become a local artisan, selling his wares at various area craft fairs and flea markets. It was inspiring watching him transform himself. I was preparing to ship off to Mongolia for two years, and dad was becoming a carpenter. After moving out of his house, I remember one of my last visits before going abroad where dad had the cement truck pulling into his backyard to pour the foundation for his workshop. It was incredibly satisfying, as we clinked beer bottles to our exciting respective futures. 

Several months later, I found myself in a dusty frontier border town at the northern end of Mongolia. It was an incredible mix of feeling both isolated (as the only foreigner residing there at the time) and invigorated. I was working as an English teacher for a local business development agency, which also served as the town's cable tv provider. My classroom actually had a wall of tv's that were on constantly through my lessons. The young fellows who served as technicians would often walk through my class to check on them and fiddle around with settings while I was teaching. There was a real feeling that I was in Mayberry or some such place at times. 

One day, though, when I was particularly down and overwhelmed by it all, my Mongolian counterpart presented me with a box that had arrived in the mail. The postmark indicated it had taken at least a month (much more than that, I am sure) to get to me. I immediately recognized the writing as dad's, and I couldn't wait to bring it home and open it. Once I did, I was almost in tears with joy. Dad had sent me a copy of Steely Dan's "Aja" CD, along with some Stevie Ray Vaughan and other assorted music. There was also a jar of Kraft Chunky peanut butter and some Pop Tarts, which didn't last through the day. On top of it all, was an incredible 12 or 13 page handwritten letter (both sides) that dad had composed. He told me in amazing detail of his trials and tribulations with his carpentry business, and descriptions of various people he met at flea markets and such. 

I can't begin to describe the joy this package and letter brought, and just how significant a role that Steely Dan CD would play in my life at that point. I listened to it every night and it accompanied me through all the good and not-so-good experiences of living in that small remote town. Once again, "Aja" had become part of my soundtrack. Every note, every word, every nuance of those songs had become etched in my memory. Especially the title track. This is a song that immediately transports me literally across the world to a tiny bachelor flat, where I sat over tins of beer pouring my thoughts and reflections into a journal I had been keeping. Dad had provided me with the incredible gift of music, particularly music that I was connected deeply with him over. Listening to "Aja" not only brings back memories of my time with him both as a young boy and in my early twenties, but also of those quiet moments I managed to have in my own space, away from the stares and curiosity of the town. I don't know if I ever found the words, as I seem to be finding now, to properly thank dad for this gift that keeps on giving. 

ROCK OF THE WESTIES AND OTHER ASSORTED MUSICAL TREASURES

"Rock of the Westies", Elton John

Released October, 1975

Featuring hit single, "Island Girl"

Notes:

Long-time bassist Dee Murray and drummer Nigel Olson were fired from the band prior to recording the album. They were replaced by drummer Roger Pope and bassist Kenny Passarelli. 

Elton John in the early to mid-1970's was an incredibly versatile and successful musician. Each passing album produced incredible hits and featured perfectly-written songs (through his writing partnership with Bernie Taupin). As a child during that era, I remember the airwaves being dominated by Elton John and Paul McCartney and Wings, mainly. My dad was in his early to mid-thirties throughout Elton John's run at the top of the charts in those years.

 Dad was deeply into music in those years, and I remember peeking at him him down in his workshop below the stairs, while puttering around at his little workshop, listening to his tape collection on his prized portable tape deck. We also had a stereo upstairs in the living room, where he occasionally blasted his vinyl records (much to the chagrin of my mother). One day he came home from whatever errands he was running with a new record to show for his day out - Elton John's "Rock of the Westies". 

He immediately put the record on the turntable, and he was suddenly transformed and transfixed. Witnessing this display of musical rapture he was experiencing, immediately affected me. I too, at the age of seven, was suddenly thrust into this swirl of rock and pop music permeating my house. I saw my dad standing in front of the stereo, tapping his foot and occasionally playing some air guitar. The beats and melodies coming out of the speakers were infectious. The album in question is the afore-mentioned "Rock of the Westies". Little did I know at the time just how much this album would come back to affect me at several points in my life, and how much it played a role in the bond I would come to share with my dad over music. 

Looking at the album cover, my dad somewhat resembled Elton John during that era. Over the summer of 1975, he had grown his hair longer and he cultivated a beard. He wore a funky summer hat and started wearing jeans and t-shirts. He had eschewed the trappings of his clean-cut professional image, and became somewhat of a hippy / beatnik. Again, this was much to the chagrin of his wife, my mother. She did not understand what he was going through, nor did my siblings and I. However, to me, I thought my dad was pretty damned cool at that time. I idolized the man, yet feared him as well. He was a hulking figure, and was pretty much aloof and into his own pleasures and projects. Being a kid, and having a penchant for getting into trouble with my brother at times, all my dad had to do was raise his voice or change his tone and I was trembling with fear. My brother, on the other hand, just kept pushing his buttons. 

One of my dad's "simple" pleasures was music. He listened to it in a different way than most people did. He listened to the words and to the intricacies and nuances of the music. He was never a musician, however he was connected to music in other intrinsic ways. The "Rock of the Westies" album is one of those records he felt deeply connected to, as though the music was speaking to him. There are several tracks on the album that evoke memories of my dad at this stage in his life, but particularly "I Feel Like a Bullet (in the Gun of Robert Ford)", "Feed Me", "Dan Dare (Pilot of the Future)", and "Medley (Yell Help - Wednesday Night-Ugly)". It wasn't something dad necessarily shared with me, but I watched him in the living room tapping his feet and playing air guitar to the music, and I enjoyed watching him immensely. I grew to love this music he was playing too. 

Flash forward several years to my late twenties and early thirties, around the same age my dad was when the album came out. I was in that faraway land of Mongolia, living in a remote town. Most times I found myself isolated and alone in my little one-bedroom flat on a Friday night. It was during those times I felt most connected to my dad. I would often sneak out of my flat in the dark of the night (so as to avoid detection from curious townsfolk) and visit a roadside shop where I could buy some beer for the evening. I usually had enough in my pocket for about 6 cans, which I would triumphantly bring back to my apartment. 

I would have my portable CD / cassette player with  its accompanying cheap Chinese external speaker charged and ready to go, as well as my pen and journal laid out in front of me. Music at this point was a vital lifeline to me, and most of the music I had in my limited collection was gifted to me by dad. "Rock of the Westies" was one such album that was on heavy rotation on those nights, as I was basking in my beer buzz and solitude. As I wrote my deepest, and my most incoherent thoughts on those pages, I felt such a strong connection to my dad (despite being literally across the world from him). Dad and I also had a terrific correspondence via letters to one another. I would write tomes to him, describing my life as a conspicuous foreigner in a small northern Mongolian town, while dad would describe his life post-retirement as a wood crafter, selling his wares at various flea markets around the region. There was a true bond between us during these times, where after so many years of trying to figure one another out, we just clicked all of a sudden. 

The true gift of music, I have found, is that it can magically transport me back to these incredibly significant moments in my life. It was truly another lifetime ago, yet somehow when I listen to "Rock of the Westies", Steely Dan's "Aja", Dire Straits' "On Every Street", the Kinks, the Byrds, The Beatles' "White Album" and "Abbey Road", I am flooded with memories of my dad and how much he enjoyed these albums and artists, and many others too many to mention. I felt my dad was a true renaissance man - an intellectual, and at the same time someone who enjoyed crude humor and the simpler things in life. He reinvented himself upon retirement. Having spent so many years as an educator, he switched gears immediately and built a shop in his backyard to do his woodworking. He was incredibly talented at both. He was meticulous and disciplined. From his descriptive letters to me during my time abroad, I took great joy reading about his projects out in his shop. I could picture him out there, in his man cave, tapping his feet and playing air guitar to his music, just like he did when I watched him in the living room when I was a kid.