When I was little, Friday was always "House-Cleaning Day." And that meant it was also "Listen to Uncle David's Mix Tape" day. It was an eclectic collection of (mostly) ballads -- everything from Sheb Wooley's "Purple People Eater" to Jimmy Dean's "Big Bad John" to Johnny Horton's "The Battle of New Orleans" to Judy Garland's "Over the Rainbow" and nearly all points between -- and it never failed to get our toes a-tapping (and our hands a-cleaning, which was probably of more interest to my mother than the toe-tapping).
There was one song that left them all behind in the "Get Those Kids A-Dancing" category, though: Apollo 100's "Joy." It's not great music, really. And hardly a "faithful" arrangement of the mood of its source material. Yet I can barely listen to it today without my pulse (and my spirits) rising noticeably. And given the weeks of mild cold-battling ("complimented" by a twinge or two of pneumonia), this "re-imagining" might be just what the Susanka House needs to get through the afternoon.
I think I'll play it for Phoebe tonight while I'm making dinner, as well. (We spent most of yesterday's dinner prep listening to/dancing to "Baba Yetu." She's a big fan.)