I saw something a while that I hadn’t seen in years: a jukebox. I don’t mean one that plays CDs. I mean a real, honest-to-God jukebox that plays 45 rpm records.
We were a ways outside Nashville, and we’d stopped for lunch, and I knew there was a real jukebox as soon as I walked in and heard Alan Jackson singing “Little Bitty.” I knew it, because the song sounded grungy and a little wobbly, like maybe the band had been out partying too late the night before and hadn’t quite sobered up.
Old jukeboxes sound that way because of bad speakers and because of the records themselves. I know guys who wear that vinyl sounds better than CDs or MP3s, but I don’t think anyone would defend the 45.
When I was 14, I got a job as a disc jockey (it was a small town, and there was only one station), and I don’t think there was a lot of quality control when it came to 45s. You’d pull a 45 out of the shuck and it might be a little warped, or the hole in the middle might be a little off-center, so even new records sometimes sounded bad.
On top of that, a record dies a little every time you play it. When the needle rides along the groove, it erases a little of the music. The sounds start to fade, the highs and lows giving way to a murky middle.
That’s the sound I heard when we walked in the restaurant.
“Look at this!” I said.
The jukebox had a window, and I wanted Things 1 and 2 to see how it worked, how pressing A-6 makes the mechanical arm slide down a rail until it finds the record you want and grab it and hold it upright against the turntable, but they couldn’t have cared less.
We were the only ones there besides the owner, so I played whatever I wanted – some Brooks & Dunn, some Alan Jackson – and I suddenly remembered the peer pressure that goes along with playing a jukebox.
When I check Facebook, I see what my friends are into on Spotify. I know, for example, that my friend, Andrew, has a previously undocumented weakness for Daryl Hall & John Oates.
Well, when you play a song on a jukebox, you’re telling everyone within earshot, friends and strangers alike, who you are.
Every song you play on jukebox is a statement, and there is absolutely nothing as embarrassing as pressing the wrong buttons and playing Barry Manilow instead of the Boss (which I did once, back in high school, when a buddy and I were at Pizza Hut).
You hear a lot today about social media, of sharing your likes and dislikes with your friends online. Jukeboxes let you do that, too, one quarter at a time.
I love jukeboxes! And songs about them too. (Loverboy, Joan Jett). I was eating Lemon Meringue Pie at Fort Dix Diner once and played Def Leppard and Elvis for my Gram on a jukebox.. I was 11.
Love this post!
Your Gram was lucky to have such a thoughtful and cool little granddaughter!
When I was a kid, my grandparents used to take us to this bar near their house. (It was Michigan; this was legal there then.) We’d feed quarters into the jukebox. One regular there used to give my brother quarters on the condition he stop playing “Go Away Little Girl” by Donny Osmond.
If I’d been that guy, I’d have given your brother quarters, too. I always thought jukeboxes needed a record that was 3 minutes of silence. It only seems fair.
Reading this post brought to mind stopping off at the White Coffeepot Junior on our way home from school, ordering some french fries drenched in gravy and listening to . . . hmm . . . I originally wrote Olivia Newton John, but I’ll bet that’s just a suggested memory. Donny Osmond could very well have been in the mix — but we never made money from *not* playing him (that was funny).
I wonder how many people hated us rotten kids. I also wonder why the White Coffeepot was a junior. Never thought about that before.
Maybe somewhere out there in the world, there was a bigger joint called the White Coffeepot, and maybe that White Coffeepot complained that the White Coffeepot Junior called or came by unless it wanted money.
It’s easy to forget just how massively famous the Osmond clan was back in the 70s.
That is so true about records, how the sound muddles out after repeated playings. Cassette tapes would do that too. If you played them enough, the tape would snap.
That’s why I’m sticking with my ’73 Chevy Impala with the 8-tracker player (and AM radio).
I found some 45′s in my grandparents home after I bought it from my Mom. “She Loves You” and “I want to hold your hand” on the Swan label. They would be worth $15 according to one website, if they were not cracked.
No where to play them anyhow.
Have you seen the video on YouTube where a guy shows his 10-year-old daughter an LP? She’s like, “It’s HUGE! How many songs are on here? Ten?!“
OH what memories this brought back Todd. I remember the power of being a teenager with a quarter. In one swoop, as you point out, you can be the hero of the room, or the goat. And much more devasting that not being “liked” on FB – the groans and looks you got for playing the wrong song could be social suicide.
At least online, you can’t see people glaring at you, but, then, again, if Spotify says you’ve been playing lots of Wham, you can’t say to your friends, in a voice loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear, “Oh, God, I pushed the wrong button! I’m so embarrassed!”
Oh my gawd, the jukebox at Pizza Hut. Yes
Ok, that one got away from me . . .
I was going to say: That really brings back some memories. I also worked at this swim club when I was little and we used to play Joan Jett and “Let’s Here It for the Boys” (it was the 80′s), and dance around after hours like crazy kids. We were probably 14. That’s my excuse, anyway.
You don’t need an excuse. Joan Jett was cool, and for a couple years in the mid-80s, you couldn’t escape the Footloose soundtrack. I hated “Holding Out for a Hero” and “Almost Paradise,” but I had no complaints with Kenny Loggins’ theme song.
I know, right?
I have been looking at Spotify trying to figure out why I should use it over Pandora. I’ve seen a couple articles comparing the two but am not persuaded yet.
I’m with you. I like Pandora. I have a bunch of “stations” already set up. I’m also bugged that Spotify requires you to have a Facebook account and that you have to have a paid subscription to use Spotify on your smartphone. Seems like a lot of hassle without much of a payoff, frankly.
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