September Song: Requiem on a Cassette-Tape

For some reason, one of my earliest memories is of riding in a red Isuzu pick-up truck with my Dad out into the pasture adjacent to our little blue house in Port Angeles, WA.  At the time, my Dad still had some dark hair for he was still in his 30s, an age that just seemed impossibly distant to my 5 year old self.

I have no idea why this memory has stayed with me, but I remember as we drove, Dad sang along softly, almost more to himself, to a cassette tape of Willie Nelson's "Stardust."  (I think the song was "Georgia on my Mind.")  I wondered, even at that young age, what could move a man to sing to such forlorn lyrics.

Well, that red Isuzu is long gone, and we long ago left P.A., and 30-something no longer feels like such an impossible age, and I no longer wonder why men sing sad songs.  Moreover, I now know that "Georgia On My Mind" is originally a Ray Charles song, "Stardust" a Nat King Cole; it was jarring the first time I heard Frank Sinatra sing "All of Me", for I'd long assumed it was a Country song.

It took me years to realize that Willie Nelson's "Stardust" is nothing but Tin Pan Alley covers and pop-standards from Willie's youth.  That is, this album, so thoroughly drenched in nostalgia for me, was also drenched in nostalgia for Willie Nelson.  Perhaps that's why I still have that cassette-tape.

For somehow, improbably, impossibly, through all the other things I've gained and lost throughout the years, through all my many moves and purges, I've still kept a hold of that Willie Nelson cassette, a tape that's older than me.  I listen to that cassette regularly, religiously, every September, for Track 6 "September Song" was always my favorite song on it.  It's music for getting older, for remembering, for slow-dancing and loving while you still can.

But it's broken my heart, I've heaved a heavy sigh, for I may finally have to throw that tape away (or at least retire it); for as the songs on the album itself implicitly warn, all things must pass, this cassette not excepted--half the songs on it now have this high-hiss on it, as the tape finally becomes too warped and worn-out to be listenable.

Oh, I'm not afraid of losing the music, I already own "Stardust" on CD and MP3, it's not a hard-to-find album; on the contrary, it is today considered one of Willie Nelson's all-time classic records (and that's saying something).  "Stardust" has been certified 5 times platinum, and was ranked #257 on Rolling Stone's 500 greatest albums of all time.

But my affection for this album isn't just for the gentle arrangements, and my memories of it aren't just limited to my 5-year-old self: I have fond recollections of popping it into the Dakota in High School, the Taurus in college, the Sebring in Grad School.  I've played it on dates, on long drives alone, in the middle of the night.  It has positively moved me to tears at moments.

But now (if you'll excuse my melodramatics), though the music abides, this tape is but one more leaf to fall from the autumnal tree.  And now, as we start September and stare down the barrel of another Fall, enjoy with me one more rendition of Willie Nelson's "September Song"--I've still never heard the original recording of it, and I hope I never do--and  grab the one you love and slow-dance with me among the autumn leaves.