I should probably be ashamed to admit that I have always
been a huge Billy Joel fan.
Actually, to be completely honest, I think I was a Barry
Manilow fan before I discovered Joel. I’m a little fuzzy on the order, though I
do know that the first song I ever learned by heart was “I Can’t Smile Without
You.” I’m sure you know it: “I feel sad when you’re sad/I feel glad when you’re
glad.”
Those are lyrics to grab onto. And I did, tenaciously. I
knew Manilow’s 1978 hit single so well, in fact, that my older cousins and
sister found it entertaining to record me singing it. Thankfully, those tapes have
disappeared.
But while Manilow may have initially captured my heart, the first
cassette I ever bought was Billy Joel’s “52ND Street,” also,
coincidentally, in 1978. It was a seminal year in music for me, as well as for
some of the country’s best crooners. I was 7, so I think my dad had to drive me
to Tower Records to make the purchase. When I got home, I popped “52ND Street” into the tape deck and listened to “Big Shot” about 187 times.
Early on, I did find Joel’s lyrics harder to digest than
Manilow’s. For instance, I couldn’t figure out why Joel was so angry with this
woman with her “head on fire” and her “eyes too bloody to see.” I found it all
a bit grizzly – and fascinating.
I had no idea what a “Halston dress” was, but I sure wanted
to find out. And gradually, Joel’s lyrics became more accessible to me. Even in
elementary school, I could see why “honesty” was “such a lonely word.” Leaning
over the crackling cassette player, I would cry out, “All I want is someone to
believe!”
As a teenager, I could definitely relate to Joel’s feeling
that it seemed “such a waste of time.” I fantasized about yelling at my
parents, “Go ahead with your own life and leave me alone!” – and then slamming
the door, though I don’t think I ever did.
And in college, I found it eerie that Joel had also crashed
a party, said he was “sorry,” and been “trashed…out again” – all over the
course of one weekend.
In fact, I will sometimes still join in when Joel ripples
onto “The Bridge” and into our minivan via SiriusXM radio. As a grown woman, I
find his music to be strangely comforting. Take yesterday morning, for
instance. After some tough, breakfast hours with the kids, I felt cheered when,
on the way to school, Joel reminded me, “I love you just the way you are.”
And I certainly don’t think it’s an accident that, after
being interrupted from this composition by a call to fetch my crying toddler
from playschool, I caught “Rosalinda’s Eyes” on the way.
“Senorita, don’t be lonely, I will soon be there,” Joel sang.
And I was.
