You've Always Got Further To Go

Wm.

February 13

Both of my parents turned 60 while I was in grad school. Mom's day was in mid-April 1990 and fell on a weekday, so I seriously doubt I celebrated with her; it's much more likely I was with Dad for his big day fourteen months later, since it came during summer break. It didn't occur to me to ask them how it felt to have the leading digit on the odometer roll over from 5 to 6--after all, mine was just still a 2. But thirty-plus years have sneaked by me, and here I am.

I can't say that the event is "hitting me hard," as the saying goes, but in recent weeks I have definitely been more reflective on the passing time, more cognizant of the limited number of spins 'round the sun that remain for me. If that makes me additionally intentional about certain things, all the better. It's my hope.

On the way home from work yesterday, I decided that one way I would spend this milestone was by listening to some of my favorite albums. One in particular bubbled quickly to the top of the list: 16 Lovers Lane, by the Australian band Go-Betweens. A few of its songs have found mention in these pages before, but today, my gift to you is to assemble several of them in one place.

The band was formed in the late 70s by guitarists Grant McLennan and Robert Forster. Lindy Morrison joined as drummer as they began recording in the early 80s. 16 Lovers Lane, released in 1988, was their sixth album; by then multi-instrumentalist Amanda Brown was contributing violin, oboe and voice, with new bassist John Wilsteed rounding out the lineup. McLennan and Forster split songwriting (and lead vocal) duties evenly on the record, and I'm embedding three efforts from each.

McLennan's songs found more favor with me at first. The album leads off with two magnificent contributions from him, "Love Goes On!" and "Quiet Heart." To this day I remain amazed that they placed such a tender, meditative piece in the second slot on the record. It just totally works there.

One Friday morning in the fall of 1990 I sprained my ankle pretty badly while running. I spent the weekend laid up in my apartment, listening to music as one does. There are a few albums and tunes that take me back to that season, that moment (XTC's Skylarking, another disk I'm spinning today, is one of them). "Love Is a Sign" is the song from 16LL that's part of that collective memory.

Moving to the second half of the album, we get another beauty from Forster, "Clouds."

Up next is the song that introduced the band to me at the beginning of 1989 when it was making a little noise on the Champaign-Urbana album rock station (and the Modern Rock Tracks chart). The video for "Was There Anything I Could Do?" feels like it succinctly captures the individual band members' personalities.

I'll close out the sampling of selections with penultimate track "I'm All Right." Brown's oboe accents really add value on the disk, particularly on Forster's contemplative pieces. I came to realize over time that the album absolutely needs Forster's songs to complement what I at first thought were the superior contributions from McLennan.

As I've long noted, I'm no music critic, so I can't tell you exactly why I think 16 Lover's Lane is so awesome. Maybe it makes me think of good times; maybe it came into my life at just the right moment (I'm realizing right now that wasn't long after Mom turned 60). What I can say is that it did, and continues to, speak to me.

The record is considered in their homeland to be not only the band's best, but one of the great records in Australian rock/pop history. Several years ago I watched on YouTube a TV show about the album, which addresses, among other things, internal tensions and the their impending breakup--it feels a bit like an Aussie version of VH-1's Behind the Music. (Forster and McLennan reunited a number of years later and recorded three more albums under the name prior to McLennan's untimely death in 2006; yesterday would have been his 66th birthday.)

"Quiet Heart" gave this post its title--the entire line is, "Doesn't matter how far you come, you've always got further to go." Not to get all philosophical, but I don't take that as a lament--it's an acknowledgment of the need and the challenge of continuing to grow, to live. My choices as to what happens going forward are certainly more limited than they were decades ago, I know. But I also know I'm quite fortunate to have choices. Here's to making good decisions.