Illegal Foreign Object

The Mrs. went to a concert tonight with a friend, leaving me, the boy, and the cat to our own devices. When left unattended, we will eat Whataburger and watch action flicks, and by the gods, that’s exactly how we spent our evening.

The Sweet & Spicy Bacon Burgers have been consumed, Marvel’s ill-fated The Eternals has been viewed (it wasn’t THAT bad, guys), and the cat has received his fifth meal of the day (he’s trained me well). The boy has retreated to his room, the cat has passed out on the couch, so here I sit in front of my CD walls, clicking away and listening to the Moody Blues album Days Of Future Passed. It’s a beautiful record from start to stop.

When I was a kid, the only thing I knew of the Moody Blues was the snippet of “Nights In White Satin” that played near the end of one of those infomercials hocking Time Life compilation albums. I barely clocked it back then—I was far too busy with the likes of Iron Maiden, Bobby Brown, and Def Leppard. When I was singing in a band in Costa Rica a few years later, my dad (after watching one of our practices) labeled the Moody Blues classic “the greatest sad song ever written”. That has stuck with me and at least two of my bandmates for 33 years and counting.

Days Of Future Passed is unquestionably my favorite album by the Moody Blues. It’s a killer melding of psychedelic, prog rock, and symphonic stylings, the addition of Justin Hayward and John Lodge paying immediate dividends. Hayward, in particular, completely transformed and elevated the band’s sound and presentation. Singing lead on what are arguably the biggest songs the Moody Blues ever had, “Nights In White Satin” and “Forever Afternoon (Tuesday?)”, Hayward’s beautiful, emotive tenor sliced through even the coldest of hearts. I offer my dad as proof of this statement because very little touched that man’s heart. Musically, it was “Nights In White Satin”, Willie Nelson’s “Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain”, and the Temptations’ “My Girl” for him. He knew other songs, but those were the three he spoke of with reverence.

I notice I’ve been listening to more Moody Blues than usual. John Lodge passed a little over a month ago, and it triggered something in me. The same thing happened to me (and millions of others, if the streaming numbers are to be believed) when Ozzy passed away. Sometimes, it takes awful shit like death to remind you of things you love. When you’re young, you have more free time for fun. Then, life gets (and stays) busy for four or five decades. It finally slows down just long enough for you to play a couple of rounds of golf before clutching your heart on a classic rock cruise and stumbling overboard to a wallet-friendly burial at sea. Surely Norwegian Cruise Lines gives you a break on the room if you’re good enough to dispose of your own corpse in the middle of the journey, no? On second thought, probably not. My point in all this is that I’m happy I’ve rediscovered my love for the Moody Blues.

Anyway, my eyes are shutting, and this post has quickly descended into exhaustion and madness. Descension would also assume accession at some point, so look who’s feeling pretty good about himself tonight?! Okay, enough of the warbling —I’m gonna crash for a bit before I have to go scoop up the Mrs. from the train station.

Nanu nanu, y’all.