This 2008/9 commercial for Van de Kamp’s fish is another indicator of a cultural shift. Yes, the kid is a mouthy, disrespectful brat–kids are kids, and they have always been kids*. So that’s not the point. Point is that in this commercial we’re saying, “The kid is right!”
No longer is there an authoritarian voice, the over-riding voice of reason (i.e., the parent). In this day of democratization, everybody is an authority. Everybody has a say. Everybody is right.
* Though they may be kids, hopefully we guide them toward better behavior.
At some point in the mid-1960s, we start to see non-centeredness. This ad for Chevrolet “OK” Used Cars from 1968 is a prime example. The green box has been added by me.
What’s at the center? Usually, the most important information is at the center of the image. But here we’ve got a bored kid who is leaning against one of the products that are being advertised. The Mom is half-heartedly peeking into the window of the red car (which is halfway cut out of the picture). Dad is fuzzified in the background doing…something. It’s meant to be very “human,” a slice-of-life image.
It’s that fake humility again cropping up that we’ll start to see so much of. It’s that anti-hero posturing that permeates all areas of 1960s culture.
More than anything, it’s saying: Yes, there is a center, but the center is empty and rotten.
My search for this elusive song began in 1981, when I was 17 years old. The song itself was rather unremarkable. If I had to describe it, I would say that it was a peppy cha-cha-esque instrumental song from the 1960s.
I can never know when that song entered my mind. Using my writerly imagination and bullshit, I would guess that I was in a stroller in 1966. Or I could have been four years old and with an Orange Crush in my hand.
Fresno, CA: 1980-1982
During this period, I became obsessed with the past, and like any child I had this misguided feeling that I could make something happen if I thought about it hard enough. Specifically, I wanted to enter the year 1966.
I would hear this song at the Kmart on Blackstone Avenue in Fresno, California, at the old 1967-era Grille that had been so well-preserved that it could have been placed in the Smithsonian’s American History Museum–an absolute period piece with translucent primary-colored plastic panels dividing the dining area from the store.
Often in the 1980s I would visit the Kmart Grille to visit 1967, that gateway year between narrow ties and psychedelia. But that damn song! What was it?
Year after year, I would hear it. But it was never significant enough for the DJ to mention it (if even played by a DJ – more often, it was administered by the people-less Muzak robots).
Palm Springs, CA: 1982
At age 22, I am driving down that long stretch of mountains down I-10 westward to Palm Springs. About 40 miles before, a sandstorm pitted my windshield beyond repair. It’s more like coasting than driving. And that damn song again on one of these Palm Springs radio stations for retirees. Here’s the thing – the song dredged up some kind of deep latent memories of being a child in 1967. God only knows where I had originally heard it.
Over the years, I valued my non-knowledge of that song. It was the Final Mystery. It was my personal Sasquatch, my Lochness Monster. It’s more fun not-knowing than it is knowing.
Secretary (2002)
Watching the James Spader movie Secretary in 2002, I heard this song as part of the soundtrack. I thought I finally had the song: credits, right? Not a chance.
Thinking that it was “Whatchamacallit”, by Esquivel, I purchase the song but am sorely disappointed. Back to square one.
Seattle, WA: 2008
Alas, the secret would be revealed on August 18, 2008. I cannot remember the circumstances, but I find that the song is called “Music to Watch Girls Go By.”
What about antiquity in ads from the 1960s? There is a point in advertising when we shift from forward-thinking (or even present-thinking) to thinking backwards. This Oldsmobile ad from April 11, 1969 is hardly the most prominent example of this, but it’s a start.
Popular Mechanics April 1935. It doesn’t get much better than this. I could write a dissertation about the Popular Mechanics style circa 1930s, but I will spare you. Suffice to say this is complete balls-out, muscular journalism. Contrast with this mis-directed, faux-humble ad from 1968 which practically says, “We’re nobody.”
