I grew up essentially listening to three songs.
When me, mom and sis moved in with my Grams, mom left a lot behind. Her records were one casualty. We had the white album by the Beatles, Elton John’s first album, and Meat Loaf, Bat Out of Hell. In fact, I still have all those discs, and they still play relatively well, despite our grubby little kiddy hands smudging them.
Music was important to mom and it still is. She still introduces me to music I wouldn’t otherwise have heard. The latest is Alison Krauss. Back then, I remember trips to Mickey Music, a record shop in a Belleville strip mall. And looking for oldies shops in New York, where she hunted and finally found the Phil Spector Christmas Album and Elvis’s gospel album. My uncle Paul still has boxes of original 45′s from the early rock ‘n roll / R&B era, from “Speedo” and “Earth Angel” to obscure greats like the Jive Bombers (immortalized in John Waters’ Cry Baby). Unc ran a couple bars and would let us pick through the jukebox discs when they cycled through the latest tunes.
I think that’s how at age seven, I wound up with singles of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising/Lodi,” KISS “Detroit Rock City/Beth,” and Marvin Gaye singing “I Heard it Through the Grapevine.” We played those platters until the grooves became distorted. Stevie Wonder’s “Sir Duke” was also a favorite. The opening horns drove me and Danielle into dances of spastic joy. Detroit Rock City, Grapevine, and Bad Moon Rising are still three of my favorite songs of all time. Like mutagenic substances, my proximity to the record player altered my DNA.
Mom thought music was a necessity, like I said. I remember Styx’s “Paradise Theater,” Elton’s Yellow Brick Road, Donna Summer, Steely Dan, and albums we’d break out to laugh and remember when we thought this music was cool, such as Leo Sayer. Elton’s “Crocodile Rock” with its ’50s nostalgia was one we’d always sing in the car.
The first album I bought was A Flock of Seagulls. I still dig their B-sides and minor hits like “Wishing” and “Telecommunication.” They still play casinos on the west coast. Next time I visit, I’ll make sure I see them.
So, what music did you grow up on?


Thomas Pluck writes unflinching fiction with heart. His stories have appeared in Big Pulp, Needle, Stupefying Stories, The Utne Reader Burnt Bridge, [PANK] magazine, Crime Factory, Spinetingler, Beat to a Pulp, McSweeney's Internet Tendency and elsewhere. He edits the Lost Children charity anthologies to benefit PROTECT: The National Association to Protect Children, and writes 


"The Story of O Street" in Oh Sandy: An Anthology of Humor for a Serious Cause
"Kamikaze Death Burgers at the Ghost Town Cafe" in Feeding Kate
"Acapulcolypse" in Nightfalls: Notes from the End of the World
"The Rock Ridge Ringer" in Hills of Fire: Bare-Knuckle Yarns of Appalachia
"Train" in Shotgun Honey Presents: Both Barrels
"Garbage Man" in Beat to a Pulp: Superhero



The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology (Amazon Kindle & Paperback)