(For the week of Nov. 12 to Nov. 18, posted the following Wednesday)***
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You made the list and you deserve a T-shirt that says "Ed picked me today!!!!!!!" No? Well then we have these lovely would-look-good-as-a-jeans-patch graphics. Please feel free to use below on your own site for picks this week. Right click this image to get the URL. gif listed first, jpg second. If you link the image to your winning post that would be even better.
This week we start the picks from those who have previously been listed here. It starts as a trickle and ends as a flood.
1st Editor's Pick Pick (EPP)
GoHah (going back a little beyond the current 11/12-11/18 week) chose:
The experiences are different, but the power of song remains the same. Steven Hart's "Wallace, Gromit and Mr. Paterno" evoke memories from the immediate, to the distant yet still vivid. For starters, the stiff-upper-lip "Britishness" of Wallace and Gromit brought out the inner-Anglophile in me as I was reminded of bands such as the Kinks, the Jam and the Clash, that were so idiosyncratically and stubbornly U.K., whether you hear London calling, or the Village Green.
It was Hart's wayback-machine reminiscences of his surround-sound youth that summoned up more deeply ingrained recollections. I don't remember my music teacher's name, but at home, before I embraced the Three Bs — Beatles, Beach Boys and Bob Dylan, I got a big dose of American popular song. I learned Gerschwin, Berlin, Rogers and Hart, Cole Porter, and Hoagy Carmichael by way of my mother, who, as professional musician, practiced long hours at the piano, guitar and electric bass; I knew "Stardust" before I ever encountered Ziggy Stardust. Dad played the phonograph, but he was pretty accomplished — Sinatra was my favorite, especially "Songs For Swingin' Lovers." I knew what it was like to be prematurely Young at Heart, and how the dame that made me feel that way always turns out to be the same one who, when my now-lonely heart has learned its lesson, will crush my spirit and leave me pining "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning."
God, no wonder I'm a mess. So I want to acknowledge Steven Hart for reminding me of the roots of the emotional bloodbath that became my life. And also say something about how the kind of careful, considered craftsmanship that went into composing such musical standards were resonant in his writing. Thank you.