Lyrics

What the mama saw, it was against the law

Posted on by brucehhackett

Paul Simon sang the above line in the 1972 hit “Me and Julio Down By the School Yard,” but he chuckled and left it up to us to ruminate on what the mama actually saw. Something naughty, evidently…

Many of us would agree that mothers do seem to have eyes in the backs of their heads, catching us doing stuff we shouldn’t. I remember a children’s TV host in Cleveland in the ’60s who used to sign off with, “You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t fool Mom!”

It was just over a century ago when President Woodrow Wilson declared the second Sunday of May to be Mother’s Day, a national holiday set aside to honor mothers, motherhood, maternal bonds and the influence of mothers in society. Mom, after all, is “the person who has done more for you than anyone in the world,” said Anna Jarvis, the Suffragette-era activist who spearheaded the move for an official Mother’s Day.

Popular music has not missed out on the opportunity to celebrate mothers — or, at least, to include “mother or mama” in the song title. In genres from hard rock to country, from Top 40 pop to soul, mothers have served as great subject matter for songs of all kinds.

Even that iconoclast, the late Frank Zappa, and his first band, The Mothers of Invention, offered a song called “Motherly Love” on their 1966 debut: “Motherly love is just the thing for you, you know your Mothers gonna love you ’til you don’t know what to do…”  So what if it was about the band, not the woman?  

The Mothers of Invention

Rock music being rebellious, some songs I found don’t really celebrate mothers as much as find fault with them. Queen has a track entitled “Tie Your Mother Down” that, while not espousing bondage, is about a teen couple wanting to keep Mom constrained long enough for them to fool around uninterrupted. On “Synchronicity,” The Police included a blunt track called “Mother” that goes, “The telephone is ringing, /Is that my mother on the phone? /The telephone is screaming, /Won’t she leave me alone?…” There’s a place for such songs, I suppose, but not here, not now.

There are plenty of more recent tunes about mothers, like the poignant “Mother” by Kacey Musgraves (2018) or the racy “Stacy’s Mom” by Fountains of Wayne (2003). But this blog has traditionally explored songs from the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, and that’s where my focus will be on this post. I have selected 15 tunes about mothers that adopt a generally appreciative attitude toward her, some with humor, some with honor and love. I think the Spotify playlist found at the end (and a second playlist of “honorable mentions”) will be well received when you invite your moms, your mothers-in-law, your mothers-to-be or your grandmas over for dinner on Sunday.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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“Your Mother Should Know,” The Beatles, 1967

This track was one of the half-dozen Paul McCartney sing-song numbers recorded by The Beatles in their final three years that John Lennon derisively referred to as “Granny music” (songs that your grandparents would like).  Paul said he wrote it on a harmonium in his London home when Liverpool relatives were visiting, inspired by the kinds of songs they used to sing in the parlor at Christmastime. It looked good in a scene in the band’s experimental film “Magical Mystery Tour” with the foursome descending a grand staircase in white tuxedos.  Musically, it’s rather slight, but it has a nice sentiment that Dear Old Mom should love: “Let’s all get up and dance to a song that was hit before your mother was born, /Though she was born a long long time ago, Your mother should know…”

“That’s All Right Mama,” Elvis Presley, 1954

In one of his earliest recording sessions, Elvis and his combo were messing around with a speeded-up version of this old Arthur Crudup blues tune.  Producer Sam Phillips was immediately struck by it and concluded it was the “blues meets country” sound he’d been looking for, and it ended up as Presley’s first single and, many claim, one of the first rock and roll songs ever. With only minimal distribution or promotion, it didn’t chart nationally but reached #4 on local Memphis charts. Fifty years later in 2004, its re-release reached #4 in the UK. In Crudup’s lyrics, the narrator sings: “Mama she done told me, /Papa done told me too, /’Son, that gal you’re foolin’ with, /She ain’t no good for you,’ /But that’s all right, that’s all right, /That’s all right now, mama, anyway you do…”

“Your Mama Don’t Dance,” Loggins and Messina, 1972

Jim Messina recalled his home environment this way: “My stepfather was into country. He was an Ernest Tubbs/Hank Snow kind of guy. But my Mom loved Elvis, and Ricky Nelson, and R&B stuff. She was shy, though, and didn’t really dance much. So the song’s title, first line and chorus were based on that experience I had growing up in that household.” He fleshed it out with references to curfews and drive-in movies, and “Your Mama Don’t Dance” ended up reaching #4 on US pop charts in late 1972 as Loggins and Messina’s biggest chart hit: “The old folks say that you gotta end your date by ten, If you’re out on a date and you bring it home late, it’s a sin, /There just ain’t no excuse and you know you’re gonna lose, /You never win, I’ll say it again, /And it’s all because your mama don’t dance and your daddy don’t rock and roll…”

“Mama Told Me Not to Come,” Three Dog Night, 1970

Randy Newman, one of the more celebrated songwriters and film composers of his generation, came up with this tune as part of his 1970 debut release, “12 Songs.”  He didn’t achieve much commercial success as a recording artist, but his songs often did well in the hands of others.  Three Dog Night had one of the biggest radio hits of 1970 with their version of Newman’s “Mama Told Me (Not to Come),” which features one of his typically sardonic lyrics about a guy who is uncomfortable attending drug parties and realizes he should’ve listened to his mother’s advice: “I seen so many things I ain’t never seen before, /Don’t know what it is, I don’t wanna see no more, /Mama told me not to come, /Mama told me not to come, /She said, ‘That ain’t the way to have fun, son’…”

“Mama Said,” The Shirelles, 1961

The Shirelles, a New Jersey-based trio who became one of the early “girl group” successes, had several classic singles during the 1960-1963 period: “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow,” “Dedicated to the One I Love,” “Soldier Boy,” “Baby It’s You,” “Foolish Little Girl.” One of their best was “Mama Said,” written by Willie Denson and Luther Dixon, which peaked at #4 as their third consecutive Top Five hit. Its lyrics reinforced the wisdom of a mother’s warning about how young love can knock you off your feet: “I went walking the other day, /Everything was going fine, /I met a little boy named Billy Joe, /And then I almost lost my mind, /Mama said there’ll be days like this, there’ll be days like this, my mama said…” The song inspired John Lennon’s “Nobody Told Me” (1980) and Van Morrison’s “Days Like This” (1995).

“Momma,” Bob Seger, 1975

The pride of Detroit’s heartland rock scene, Seger wrote honest, unvarnished rock songs about working-class life in the Midwest. Before breaking out nationwide with the 1976 LP “Night Moves,” Seger plugged away for nearly a decade with various bands and as a solo act until finding the right chemistry with The Silver Bullet Band. Their “Beautiful Loser” album in 1975 gave the first hint of Seger’s composing abilities, and one track, “Momma,” revealed that he didn’t necessarily get along that well with his strict mother. Still, he conceded that although she could be tough, she was always truthful with him: “Oh, how she could control me, /And when I was bad, she’d scold me, /Sometimes she wouldn’t hold me, and I’d cry, /But momma, she never told me a lie…”

“Mother and Child Reunion,” Paul Simon, 1972

In 1971, eager to begin his solo career, Simon was in a Chinese restaurant in New York City one night when he was amused to see a chicken-and-egg dish on the menu creatively called Mother and Child Reunion.  “What a great song title,” he thought, and began writing a song that addressed the sometimes fickle nature of the mother-child relationship. Enamored by the strains of Jamaican reggae, he incorporated the intriguing rhythms into the song’s structure, and by early 1972, he had his first solo Top Ten hit. The lyrics describe the “strange and mournful day” when the mother (the chicken) and the child (the egg) are reunited on a dinner plate: “Though it seems strange to say, /I never been laid so low, /In such a mysterious way, /And the course of a lifetime runs over and over again…”

“Mama’s Pearl,” Jackson 5, 1971

The Jackson 5’s fifth single was originally entitled “Guess Who’s Makin’ Whoopee (With Your Girlfriend),” but the folks at Motown intervened, thinking it would be inappropriate for such overt thoughts to be coming out of 12-year-old Michael’s mouth. Producer Deke Richards rewrote a few lyrics and changed the title to “Mama’s Pearl,” and it ended up reaching #2 in early 1971. The track still retaining the lyrical idea that the boy wished his sheltered girlfriend would loosen up and move beyond the making-out stage: “We kiss for thrills, then you draw the line, /Oh baby, /’Cause your mama told you that love ain’t right, /But don’t you know good loving is the spice of life, /Mama’s pearl, let down those curls, /Won’t you give my love a whirl, /Find what you been missing, ooh ooh now, baby…”

“Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” Willie Nelson & Waylon Jennings, 1978

In 1978, Nelson and Jennings, both seasoned veterans of country music, were each riding high with a string of #1 albums in 1975-1977. They were good friends and had performed together on occasion, so they chose to collaborate on “Waylon & Willie,” which not only sat at #1 on country album charts for three months, it reached #12 on pop charts as well. A big reason for that was the success of the single, “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” with lyrics that urged mothers everywhere to raise their children to be “doctors and lawyers and such” instead of cowboys, because “they’ll never stay home and they’re always alone, even with someone they love…”  The track appeared in a scene from the 1979 Jane Fonda-Robert Redford film “The Electric Horseman.”

“Mama Kin,” Aerosmith, 1973

Emerging from the smoky rock clubs of Boston in 1973, Aerosmith launched their career with their self-titled debut album, which flopped, stalling at #166 on US album charts. Some critics dismissed them as “a K Mart version of The Rolling Stones.” By 1976, after the triumph of their next three LPs, the debut album re-entered the charts and peaked at #21, thanks to the tardy success of “Dream On.” The first single, “Mama Kin,” never even charted but became a popular live song at Aerosmith concerts over the years. Its composer, vocalist Steven Tyler, says the lyrics are essentially about “the importance of staying in touch with your family, your roots, your ‘Mama Kin.’ Keeping in touch with mama kin means keeping in touch with the old spirits that got you there in the first place.”

“Never Tell Your Mother She’s Out of Tune,” Jack Bruce, 1969

One of the sadly neglected LPs of 1969 was “Songs For a Tailor,” the solo debut of bassist/vocalist Jack Bruce, following the breakup of Cream eight months earlier. It includes originals like “The Clearout,” which Cream had recorded but didn’t release, and “Theme From an Imaginary Western,” made famous by Mountain at Woodstock. I love the rollicking opening track, “Never Tell Your Mother She’s Out of Tune,” with a title inspired by guitarist Chris Spedding, whose mother was a professional singer. At one of her shows, Spedding pointed out that one of the violin players was out of tune, which angered her — not the fact that the violin needed tuning but that her son had said so publicly. Bruce thought it made a great song title, although the lyrics by Pete Brown go in another direction and make no mention of the incident.

“For a Thousand Mothers,” Jethro Tull, 1969

Tull’s highly praised and popular second album, 1969’s “Stand Up,” offers an eclectic smorgasbord of rock, blues, folk and jazz influences, with Ian Anderson providing the lyrics from fictional scenarios, occasionally mixed with biographical anecdotes or experiences from his personal life. Songs like “Back to the Family” and “For a Thousand Mothers” described Anderson’s relationship with his parents at the time, alternately loving and tempestuous. The latter tune took his mother and father to task for their lack of emotional support of his musical dreams: “Did you hear mother? Saying I’m wrong, but I know I’m right, /Did you hear father? Calling my name into the night, saying I’ll never be what I am now, /Telling me I’ll never find what I’ve already found, /It was they who were wrong, and for them here’s a song…”

“Mama Lion,” Crosby and Nash, 1975

In 1969-70, Graham Nash had had an intense relationship with Joni Mitchell, and they both later wrote songs about it (Joni’s “Willy” and “My Old Man,” Graham’s “Our House” and “Simple Man”). In 1972, Joni wrote “See You Sometime,” which includes the line, “I run in the woods, /I spring from the boulders like a mama lion.” As he was writing songs for “Wind on the Water,” Nash’s 1975 LP with periodic collaborator David Crosby, he came up with “Mama Lion,” which takes a sobering look at the romantic relationship’s aftermath, based on Mitchell’s earlier tune: “Mama lion, mama lion, I’m starting to sink, /Beneath the sunshine and the icicles, and the things that you think, /There’s a hole in my destiny, and I’m out on the brink, /Mama lion, mama lion…”

“Mother’s Little Helper,” The Rolling Stones, 1966

As the recreational use of mind-altering drugs like marijuana and LSD began increasing in the mid-’60s, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards couldn’t help but notice the hypocrisy of parents who criticized the practice while secretly taking amphetamines and tranquilizers to boost their energy or calm them down. They co-wrote “Mother’s Little Helper,” a phrase some moms used as code to describe their own hushed-up vice: “And though she’s not really ill, there’s a little yellow pill, she goes running for the shelter of a mother’s little helper, and it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day…” The song peaked at #8 in 1966 as The Rolling Stones’ 12th single. Richards and Brian Jones played altered 12-string guitars to mimic the sound of a sitar, one of several Indian instruments then in vogue.

“Tell Mama,” Etta James, 1968

Written and recorded by Clarence Carter as “Tell Daddy” in 1967, this tune was retitled “Tell Mama” for Etta James to sing when Muscle Shoals Studios producer Rick Hall took charge of the recording session. James objected at first, reluctant to be cast as an Earth Mother, “the gal you come to for comfort,” but it turned out to be her biggest hit on the US pop charts, reaching #23 (and #10 on R&B charts). Over a spirited, horn-driven arrangement, James sings about a young man who’s betrayed by his girl, after which his mother reaches out to give him some TLC: “She would embarrass you anywhere, /She’d let everybody know she didn’t care… /Tell Mama all about it, /Tell Mama what you need, /Tell Mama what you want, /And I’ll make everything all right…”

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Here are a few more that make my “honorable mention” list:  

“Mama Gets High,” Blood Sweat & Tears, 1971;  “Mother,” Pink Floyd, 1979; “Crazy Mama,” J.J. Cale, 1972; “That Was Your Mother,” Paul Simon, 1986; “Sweet Mama,” The Allman Brothers, 1975; “Mother,” John Lennon, 1970; “Motorcycle Mama,” Neil Young and Nicolette Larson, 1978;  “Mother Goose,” Jethro Tull, 1971;  “New Mama,” Stephen Stills, 1975; “Mother Nature’s Son,” The Beatles, 1968;  “Mama,” Genesis, 1983;  “Look What They’ve Done to My Song, Ma,” The New Seekers, 1970; “Mother,” Chicago, 1971;  “Mothers Talk,” Tears For Fears, 1985;  “Tough Mama,” Bob Dylan, 1974; “Mamma Mia,” ABBA, 1975.

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Even children get older, now I’m getting older too

Posted on by brucehhackett

Let’s start this one with a little humor.

You know you’re getting old when: It takes two tries to get up off the couch; your children start looking middle-aged; you hear “snap, crackle, pop” at the breakfast table, but you’re not eating cereal; the only thing getting hard is your arteries.

They say the only two sure things in life are death and taxes. I would add one: Before we die, we get old.

Last week, I celebrated my 70th birthday. Some of my friends who watched me party pretty hard as a young man doubted I’d make it to 40, let alone 70, but, well, here I am. I like to think I’ve acquired some wisdom over the years, and I know better than to attempt some of the more taxing physical chores I used to do with gusto. I still enjoy listening to rock and roll — the classic old stuff as well as newer offerings — but maybe I don’t always crank it up quite as loud as I once did.

Rock and pop music is, by and large, a young person’s game, but quite a few “vintage” artists now in their 70s and 80s are still writing and recording new material and even performing. Just within the past nine months, I’ve seen shows by the likes of Alan Parsons (76), Little Feat’s Bill Payne (76), Graham Nash (83) and ELO’s Jeff Lynne (77), with James Taylor (77) on tap. Through the years, many artists have written songs about getting old, and I’ve collected 15 of them here for you to listen to and appreciate.

As my younger daughter once said to me, “You’re not old, Dad. You’re older.”

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“Grow Old With Me,” John Lennon, 1984

Lennon went on hiatus from the music business in 1975 when his son Sean was born, and he chose to devote a few years to building and strengthening his family bonds with his wife Yoko Ono and their son. He continued writing songs and making rough, homemade demos of them, some of which were officially recorded and released in 1980 on “Double Fantasy” and, posthumously, on “Milk and Honey” in 1984. A few of the “Milk and Honey” tracks were never properly polished in a studio but released as demos anyway, the best being “Grow Old With Me,” one of the prettiest and most sentimental tunes he ever wrote. Mary Chapin-Carpenter, Ringo Starr and others have since released their own versions, but Lennon’s honest original tugs at my heartstrings: “Grow old along with me, whatever fate decrees, /We will see it through, for our love is true, /God bless our love, God bless our love…”

“Old,” Paul Simon, 2000

Ever since Simon released his understated “You’re the One” album in 2000, I’ve been a big fan of the lighthearted track “Old,” which takes an unorthodox, ultimately cheerful look at getting on in years. He reminds us that time is a strange thing, and that the Earth and God are billions of years old, but by comparison, “we’re NOT old.” It’s been a comforting song for me to listen to every year since, and I like to play it for people when they’re down in the dumps about marking another birthday. Now that Simon is into his 80s, I hope he can enjoy it and be reassured by it: “Down the decades, through the years, /Summer’s gone, my birthday’s here, /And all my friends stand up and cheer, /And say, ‘Man, you’re old, gettin’ old…”

“Done Got Old,” Junior Kimbrough, 1992

Kimbrough was one of the many unsung talents playing blues music in the American South in the ’60s and ’70s who struggled as performers and recording artists for decades before they were eventually recognized for their unique styles and blues originals. A native of the North Mississippi hill country, Kimbrough’s initial recordings failed to reach an audience until he was discovered by more established bluesmen like John Lee Hooker in the late 1980s. Kimbrough’s 1992 LP “All Night Long” became the first of four albums he released before his death in 1988 at age 67. One track from that album, “Done Got Old,” a hard-nosed, autobiographical look at aging, has been covered by Buddy Guy and others: “I can’t look like I used to, I can’t walk like I used to, I can’t love like I used to, /And now things gone changed
when I done got old, /I can’t do the things I used to do, because I’m an old man…”

“Old and In the Way,” Old & In The Way, 1975

Before founding The Grateful Dead in 1966, Jerry Garcia had been in jug bands playing bluegrass on banjo, and he retained his fondness for that genre. In 1973, he became involved with fiddle legend Vassar Clements and a few other like-minded souls in a short-lived but spirited group known as Old & In the Way. They performed a few dozen shows and cut one album of bluegrass standards and originals before disbanding. Guitarist David Grisham wrote their flippant signature song, also called “Old and In the Way,” which helped make the album (released in 1975) one of the best-selling bluegrass albums ever: “Old and in the way, that’s what I heard them say, /They used to heed the words he said, but that was yesterday, /Old and turned to grey, and you will fade away, they’ll never care about you, for you’re old and in the way…”

“Old Man Took,” America, 1974

Dewey Bunnell, one third of the trio of singer-songwriters who comprised the 1970s acoustic rock act America, wrote many of the group’s best-known songs (“A Horse With No Name,” “Sandman,” “Ventura Highway,” “Tin Man”). On their fourth LP, 1974’s “Holiday,” Bunnell was inspired to write a song about an elderly man he knew who had recently passed away. It’s a moving piece that uses major seventh guitar chords, like so many other America tunes, to complement the heart-rending words: “For the last time, I watched Old Man Took bait his hook, and then throw his line, pick up his wine, /He’s a friend of mine, known him all my life, and his wife, /’Neath the swayin’ pine and the clingin’ vine, /Just before he left, he said, ‘Now, young man, take good care, don’t let the bugs bite…”

“Old Man,” Randy Newman, 1972

Newman’s satirical songwriting quickly became widely praised and covered by others (Three Dog Night made a hit of his amusing “Mama Told Me Not to Come” in 1970). His gruff, uncultured voice hurt his own LPs, in my opinion, but they still sold well. His third album, 1972’s “Sail Away,” includes the suggestive “You Can Leave Your Hat On” (a future Joe Cocker hit) and the infamous “Burn On,” a scathing take on Cleveland’s Cuyahoga River catching fire in 1969. I’ve always admired “Old Man,” Newman’s gently mournful study of old age, which Art Garfunkel covered on his solo debut the following year: “You must remember me, old man, I know that you can if you try, /So just open up your eyes, old man, /look who’s come to say goodbye…”

“Hello In There,” John Prine, 1971

Prine wrote songs in a natural, plain-spoken style, sometimes with humor, sometimes with insightfulness. Even when he was only 22, he came up with unassuming yet profound lyrics to describe the highs and lows of the everyman. One of his finest works, in my view, is “Hello In There,” which American Songwriter depicts as “a stark examination of age, enduring love, and time’s merciless hand.” Prine sensitively explores the loneliness of advanced age and the feeling of “being invisible to the world.” You can find the tune on Prine’s self-titled 1971 debut LP, and cover versions by the likes of Bette Midler, Emmylou Harris, Johnny Cash, Joan Baez and 10,000 Maniacs: “So if you’re walking down the street sometime and spot some hollow ancient eyes, /Please don’t just pass ’em by and stare, as if you didn’t care, /Say, “Hello in there, hello…”

“When I’m Sixty-Four,” The Beatles, 1967

Paul McCartney was only 14 when he wrote this cabaret-style song about aging, inspired by the type of music has father often played on the piano in the family parlor. More than ten years later, McCartney suggested resurrecting it for inclusion on The Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” album, in part because Paul’s father Jim McCartney had just turned 64 that year. “It was designed to be about a young man singing to his lover about his plans for the two of them to grow old together,” said McCartney years later. “The others teased me about it, calling it ‘granny music,’ but it ended up one of the more popular tracks on the record.” “…I could be handy, mending a fuse when your lights have gone, /You can knit a sweater by the fireside, Sunday mornings go for a ride, /Doing the garden, digging the weeds, who could ask for more? /Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty four?…”

“Old and Wise,” Alan Parsons Project, 1982

Parsons was a young sound engineer at EMI Studios in London, and was integrally involved in the production of The Beatles’ “Abbey Road” and Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon,” two of the most popular albums in rock history. In 1976, he initiated The Alan Parsons Project with singer-songwriter Eric Woolfson, using a broad range of studio musicians and vocalists on their successful ten-album catalog. Their commercial peak came with 1982’s “Eye in the Sky,” which reached #7 on US album charts, and the title song peaked at #3 on the US Top 40. The LP’s final track, featuring former Zombies lead singer Colin Bluestone, is “Old and Wise,” which focuses on the thoughts of someone nearing the end of life: “And someday in the mist of time, when they asked me if I knew you, /I’d smile and say you were a friend of mine, /And the sadness would be lifted from my eyes when I’m old and wise…”

“Growing Older But Not Up,” Jimmy Buffett, 1980

Although his first five LPs netted only one song that reached the Top 40, Buffett put together a solid run of albums in the late ’70s that brought him consistent success on both the US album charts and the singles pop chart (“Margaritaville,” “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” “Fins”). As times changed in the 1980s, Buffett’s star began to fade; 1981’s “Coconut Telegraph” wasn’t as successful and yielded no singles. But I’d urge you to take another listen to “Growing Older But Not Up,” a whimsical song about the mind staying young as the body ages: “Though my mind is quite flexible, these brittle bones don’t bend, /I’m growing older but not up, /My metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck, /Let those winds of time blow over my head, /I’d rather die while I’m living than live while I’m dead…”

“Getting Older Scares Me to Death,” davvn, 2025

A Nashville-based alternative pop duo that calls itself davvn (pronounced dawn) has been making “new nostalgia” since 2021, and they recently released a single called “Getting Older Scares Me to Death.” At first blush, I rolled my eyes like a know-it-all parent who might say, “You’re so young! What do you know about getting old?” But just because they’re in their 20s doesn’t mean they can’t have anxiety about aging. I think the song offers a valid viewpoint for anyone of any age who feels that maybe life is going too fast, or passing them by: “Is this as good as it gets, always just bored and depressed, I’m hanging on by a thread, choking on my own medicine, tattooed with all my regrets, so sick of playing pretend, heartbreaks got me by the neck, getting old scares me to death…”

“Old Friends,” Simon and Garfunkel, 1968

Almost from the very beginning, Paul Simon showed uncommon depth and wisdom in his songwriting, particularly lyrics. It’s pretty impressive that he was only 27 when he came up with “Old Friends” and “Bookends,” two poignant songs about aging that he merged into one track on Simon and Garfunkel’s watershed fourth LP “Bookends” in 1968. Indeed, the first side of that LP includes tunes that explore the various chapters of life, from childhood and young adulthood through disillusionment and divorce to resigned senior citizen: “Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange to be seventy… Old friends, memory brushes the same years, silently sharing the same fears… /Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph, /Preserve your memories, they’re all that’s left you…”

“Old Man,” Neil Young, 1972

After his initial burst of fame with Buffalo Springfield and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young in 1967-1970, Young purchased a multi-acre spread of land in Northern California which he named the Broken Arrow Ranch. Said Young, “When I bought the place, there was a couple living on it who were the caretakers, an old gentleman named Louis Avila and his wife Clara. He took me up to this ridge, and there’s this lake up there, and he says, ‘Tell me, how does a young man like you have enough money to buy a place like this?’ And I said, ‘Well, just lucky, Louis, just real lucky.’ And he said, ‘Well, that’s the darnedest thing I ever heard.’ And I wrote ‘Old Man’ for him.” It compares a young man’s life to an old man’s and shows that they essentially have the same needs: “Old man, look at my life, 24 and there’s so much more, live alone in a paradise that makes me think of two… /Old man, take a look at my life, I’m a lot like you…”

“My Back Pages,” Bob Dylan and Friends, 1993

Seeing as how this classic Bob Dylan song was the inspiration for the name of this Hack’s Back Pages blog, I love to include it in my playlists whenever it makes sense to do so. Dylan wrote it back in 1964 for his fourth LP, “Another Side of Bob Dylan,” and its pivotal line — “I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now” — was meant to be his way of explaining his shift away from personal and political idealism and what he felt was a too-serious messianic image as “the voice of a restless generation.” The Byrds covered the song in 1967 and made it their final Top 40 hit, and both Marshall Crenshaw and America also recorded versions. In 1992, at a concert in New York honoring Dylan’s 30 years in the business, an all-star group (George Harrison, Roger McGuinn, Neil Young, Eric Clapton, Tom Petty and Dylan himself) performed the song together, and a live album of the show was released the next year.

“I’m My Own Grandpa,” Lonzo and Oscar, 1948

Just for fun, I’m concluding this playlist with a novelty song written by Dwight Latham and Moe Jaffe in the 1940s about a man who, through an unlikely (but legal) combination of marriages, becomes stepfather to his own stepmother, and by dropping the “step-” modifiers, he becomes his own grandfather. The men had been reading a book of Mark Twain anecdotes which included a paragraph where Twain proved it would be possible for a man to become his own grandfather, and they expanded the notion into a country song. The duo of Lloyd “Lonzo” George and Rollin “Oscar” Sullivan recorded it in 1948, and it not only ended up selling four million copies, it inspired multiple cover versions through the years by Guy Lombardo, Jo Stafford, Homer & Jethro, Ray Stevens, Willie Nelson and Steve Goodman.

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