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A Crock of Schmidt

Single-handedly solving nothing

My Life Is A Song #68

August 5, 2016 by acrockofschmidt Leave a Comment

Shirthead Countdown #68

If I continue with this music series until I die and that moment of death occurs at a respectable long life age like say 87, I doubt I’ll ever mention a song quite as odd or obscure as this one.  You most definitely won’t hear it on the radio.  The fact I even know about this song and this band is a tribute to the value of having friends with older siblings.  If said siblings dabble in the world of illicit narcotics, all the better.  I have one such friend.

The youngest of four brothers, this friend, one of my besties for many years, had access to material greatly coveted by pubescent boys but mostly outside our grasp.  Yes children, there was a time when pornography wasn’t beamed into your home for easy consumption.  Anyway, having older brothers firmly raised in the seventies as opposed to the eighties like the two of us, you can imagine there was quite a difference in the types of music we listened to.  I distinctly remember going to my friend’s house and eagerly hoping we’d be forced to enter his one brother’s room so that I could look behind me at the poster affixed above said brother’s bedroom door of dozens of naked women riding bicycles.  Thank you Freddie Mercury, no gay man has ever given a greater gift to millions of straight boys.

By the time we were in our later teens, I was even working with my friend’s next oldest brother.  Our groups of friends even ran into each other the odd time while out camping on long weekends.  One such occasion occurred in Sauble Beach one August, if I remember correctly.  My buddy and I ended up crashing the spot his brother and friends were camping.  We were the young, embarrassing “kids” at the party but for the most part we were accepted with kindness.  As the evening progressed and the alcohol took hold, the atmosphere around the campfire was one of absolute joy and comradery.  Everyone was singing along as guitars were played, drinks were drunk, and snacks were eaten.  Eventually, as the hours grew long, the musical selection began to better reflect the chemically altered state of our collective minds and some truly fascinating material was introduced to my thus far naïve musical experience.

This song is the one I remember most from that night.  On very few occasions have I been more amazed or amused than that one, sitting around this campfire with all these older people listening to what is truly the most bizarre song I’ve ever heard.  It’s not even a good song.  Some of you will find this to be a horrible song, in fact.  Horrible or otherwise, though, you must admit it is unique.  And I trust that under the right circumstances you can envision twenty inebriated friends belting out this song around a campfire on a warm summer night as a wonderful night indeed.

I’m thus kicking off this summer weekend with a song that’ll furrow your brow and stretch your understanding of “music”.  The lyrics alone are worthy of a Nobel Prize.  I give you “The Tale of the Giant Stone Eater” by The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, from the 1975 album, Tomorrow Belongs To Me.  Brace yourselves!

Studio Version:

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Filed Under: Music Schmidt Tagged With: 70s, brothers, camping, friends, Seventies

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