I don't know if you listen to music or books on tape when you weave, or meditate in silence. I do all of the above and have an eclectic collection of CDs that live permanently downstairs, from Handel and Verdi to Enya to Ally McBeal sound tracks (hated the show, only ever watched 15 minutes, but love the music) and lots of R&B CDs and orca calls. I even "read" Dr Phil's "Ultimate Weight Solution" on tape after meaning to read the book for over two years.
But when things go bad, when I need a time out from my loom or from myself, when I need to stop the chatter in my head, there is only one CD I can turn to: The Very Best of the Osmonds, 1996, Polygram. It has a song for every occasion, and the lyrics are safe to belt out, even if you have a six-year-old neighbor who occasionally plays outside your studio. Without boring you with minutiae, here are just some of the highlights:
The Proud One: I have never shied away from begging the warp to behave long enough for me to finish weaving a piece. (This appears to be a punctuation-free lyric site.)
Love Me For A Reason: Required singing before sending work to a juried exhibition, approaching a gallery, or in any other pleading-required situations; ever belt-outable. The Osmonds rendition sounds straight forward considering their religious background, but the Boyzone rendition positively gets down on its knees!
The Twelfth Of Never: Do things sometimes work out so smoothly you just want to hug your loom?
I'm Leaving it All Up To You: Sometimes a weaver must give a loom or a piece of work an ultimatum.
Why: Some pieces just make you happy and proud you wove them, don't they?
One Bad Apple: Just because the sample didn't look right, or the first piece off the loom didn't work out, there is no reason to abandon the entire warp just yet.
Morning Side Of The Mountain: If you thought this is about double weave, you're reading the wrong blog! Unravelling regulars should instantly recognize this as my "Holy Horses, Shaft 14 Hadn't Lifted for The Last 30 cm" anthem. Very belt-outable.
I'm Still Gonna Need You: When you purchase new and spiffy equipment, be sure to reassure your old equipment.
Where Did All The Good Times Go: The must-sing-song before you rip out and abort a project, or depart for a stash-swap/sale. Oddly, this was the most difficult lyric to locate. One of the most frequently heard in this neck of the woods.
This CD contains 24 songs in all, including two renditions of "Crazy Horses" at both ends of the CD. If I could have my way, I'd take out:
* one of the Crazy Horses
* Jimmy's "Long Haired Lover from Liverpool"
* Nat King Cole classics; sorry Donny, no chance.
* "Sweet and Innocent"; probably Donny at his most saccharine pre-going-solo
* "Yo Yo", "Go Away Little Girl" or similar of quintessential Donny
* "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother", B-side of "One Bad Apple" 45 from memory; an opportunistic selection but executed nicely
* Jimmy's "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause" for the same reason as above
* "Both Side Now", in which I believe Wayne sang the lead, and, oh, what a mellow, relaxing rendition. Incidentally, Wayne seems the least ravaged by time.
I had a torrent, unrequited love affair with Merrill that lasted about 8 months when I was 12/13; it was pre-destined, as in our years in the US, 1961-64, Andy Williams and Danny Kaye were Mom's loves-of-her-virtual-life and these, and Mitch Miller's, shows were required viewing.
Dad took me to a concert during The Osmonds' 1971 tour to Japan, but we were in the cheap seats, and the brothers looked about the size of potatoes. I moved on to B/W photography and dark room work after that, though I do sometimes think of taking Mom to Branson.