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Love letter
Jan. 10th, 2008 11:57 amLast night I read a pre-S3 con interview with Eric Kripke where he mentions that WB nixed his ideas for a Supernatural soundtrack, and that made me a little wistful. I have a residual fondness, thanks to the Dazed-and-Confused boys I spent my early teen years hanging out with, for the particular brand of classic pop-metal/prog rock that the show likes best, and almost every song featured on SPN gives me a little jolt of pleasure. It's not music I ever thought to collect, for the most part, but it's music that takes me to a particular place and time, and it thrills me every time I hear the opening bars of a song, which, thanks to those aforementioned boys, I can usually identify in five notes or less. It's not music I ever thought to collect, as I say, but I'm collecting it now.
(It just makes me sad that Led Zeppelin's members are so famously stingy about handing out usage permissions, because you know Dean is a huge, huge fan, and one surely feels the lack of Zeppelin on the show. Ditto Van Halen, though I didn't know that Van Halen was careful about such things. Being only the casualest of Van Halen listeners.)
I don't really need a soundtrack, though. I have a 24/7 soundtrack available to me, in the form of a radio station that plays what I used to call test-rock (as in testosterone-rock), but have now come to think of as SPN Rock. Dean would fucking love this radio station, man. I'm not kidding about this. I have this story in mind that I wish someone would write, where they come to Macon and Dean lets Sam finish the job himself while he sits holed up in a motel near where I work, the skanky one which reportedly hosts a number of convicted sex offenders, and feverishly makes new mix tapes using a twenty-year-old boom box he bought at the Salvation Army. Finding the streaming station on the internet, as they travel to other places, just to connect himself with like-minded folk.
It's a story for a very specific audience, I know, but what I'm saying is that now when I listen to the radio, I'm listening with Dean's ear. ZZ Top? Check. Jethro Tull? Maybe a little artsy-fartsy. Judas Priest? Hell yeah. Aerosmith? Steven Tyler's more for the chicks, but hey, who doesn't groove to "Walk This Way?" The scale moves backward (Dean's more of a Rolling Stones Dude than a Beatles Dude), and forward (Tool, did you say? Hmmmm.) in time, but I like to picture Dean listening to the same playlists I'm listening to, with his ear bent close to the speakers, eyes closed, smiling, head bobbing old-school style, an involuntarily function like breathing or a heartbeat.
(It just makes me sad that Led Zeppelin's members are so famously stingy about handing out usage permissions, because you know Dean is a huge, huge fan, and one surely feels the lack of Zeppelin on the show. Ditto Van Halen, though I didn't know that Van Halen was careful about such things. Being only the casualest of Van Halen listeners.)
I don't really need a soundtrack, though. I have a 24/7 soundtrack available to me, in the form of a radio station that plays what I used to call test-rock (as in testosterone-rock), but have now come to think of as SPN Rock. Dean would fucking love this radio station, man. I'm not kidding about this. I have this story in mind that I wish someone would write, where they come to Macon and Dean lets Sam finish the job himself while he sits holed up in a motel near where I work, the skanky one which reportedly hosts a number of convicted sex offenders, and feverishly makes new mix tapes using a twenty-year-old boom box he bought at the Salvation Army. Finding the streaming station on the internet, as they travel to other places, just to connect himself with like-minded folk.
It's a story for a very specific audience, I know, but what I'm saying is that now when I listen to the radio, I'm listening with Dean's ear. ZZ Top? Check. Jethro Tull? Maybe a little artsy-fartsy. Judas Priest? Hell yeah. Aerosmith? Steven Tyler's more for the chicks, but hey, who doesn't groove to "Walk This Way?" The scale moves backward (Dean's more of a Rolling Stones Dude than a Beatles Dude), and forward (Tool, did you say? Hmmmm.) in time, but I like to picture Dean listening to the same playlists I'm listening to, with his ear bent close to the speakers, eyes closed, smiling, head bobbing old-school style, an involuntarily function like breathing or a heartbeat.
