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Essay by |
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May 2001 | ||||||||||
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I was playing via the Macintosh's speakers some old Sons of the Pioneers songs for my son's bedtime. Along the Santa Fe Trail, Cool Water, O Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie, The Oregon Trail, Red River Valley, Tumbling Tumbleweeds, and so on.
When I was young myself, my father played Sons of the Pioneers records, songs that he'd enjoyed for years. Our favorites evoke wide spaces and open roads, the American West and the hot, dry Southwestern desert. Their great music recalls the American Frontier and the pioneers whose experiences did much to shape America today, and we may hope, strengthen America's future. I'm sure the Sons of the Pioneers were thoroughly aware of this tradition it's in their name. Songs loved by my father, songs with which I'd grown up, and now at our fingertips in MP3 format. I got to thinking about the progression that makes such musical convenience possible; and how we might try to explain the serendipitous evolution to those smooth Western singers, the Sons of the Pioneers, say back in 1937:
I think they'd say, "Gosh, that sure seems like the long way around."
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Music on your desktop, |
© 2001 Robert Wilfred Franson |
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