Credence vs. Arlo

The "Nose Lecord," as I famously called it.

My Dad has a song. He is unaware of this fact. But it's a fact. Like a sappy, puppy-dog-in-love teenage boy, I have a song that is my Dad's song. Don't worry. It's a manly song, full of guitar solos and stuff that makes The Wife turn the volume down.

But TW wasn't home yesterday, which meant I had free reign over house cleaning, which I take to with aplomb. Yesterday was for toilet scrubbing, bathtub scouring and mopping the floor. It's amazing how much work that can feel like. Pandora helps me get through, so I put on the Zeppelin station. It's not very good, Pandora, but I was too lazy to find a decent local station to stream.

About halfway through the work, Dad's song started. All bass strings, maybe a guitar playing a harmony. No drums. You probably know the California Raisins' version or Marvin Gaye's version, but in our house, Credence Clearwater Revival was and remains the only proper version of "Heard It Through The Grapevine."

When I was a kid, Dad would play one of three albums for me. One was Santana Abraxas; one was a greatest hits album by the Beach Boys; and then there was the "Nose Lecord." It's also called Credence Gold, but not in our house. The nickname Nose Lecord shows how young I was; I couldn't get that big R at the start of the word right.

The full 11-minute version of Grapevine is a spectacular jam of a mess of a song. It starts tight, a straight cover of a classic R&B song. And that opening thump of bass was spectacular coming out of Dad's speakers. One thing the man did not skimp on was audiophonic technology in the 1970s. Dad would crank up the bass – it was the only time bass or treble was ever touched by Dad – and we would listen to the house shake. You couldn't hear Mom yelling to turn down the music from upstairs if you did it right.

The walls of that house would shake from the bass. The start of the song was by far the best for that. The tones reverberated the walls. Dad taught me that. "Put your hand on the wall. Can you feel that?" Whoa. This is big stuff for a 3-year-old or 4-year-old.

The song devolves into a series of wild guitar solos and drum smashing. It is truly epic. But Grapevine is only about half as long as Mom's song.

It's fitting that Dad's song came on yesterday because it's a locked-down certainty I will be hearing Mom's song tonight.

I'm not sure when the tradition started, but it was in my teens on Thanksgiving day. The classic rock radio station in Minneapolis had been saying they were going to play this song all day, and around noon it came on. Mom told me to put it on the puny upstairs speakers so she could hear it better.

Alice's Restaurant isn't a great piece of virtuoso musicianship, but man, Arlo Guthrie can write a lyric. Alice's Restaurant is long, it's subversive and it's hilarious. If you have 18 minutes, give it a listen.

I'll be tuning in later, probably when I start to chop onions to make Mom's stuffing recipe. Alice's Restaurant is Mom's song because Thanksgiving is Mom's holiday. It's mine too. It's our mutual favorite because of its simplicity. Get together. Eat a big meal. Enjoy. And though we will have 12 people in our house tomorrow, she won't be one of them. That's OK. Traveling around the holidays is a hot mess and insanely expensive. I get that.

So, probably around 2 this afternoon, Mom will get a phone call from me. The phone will likely be on speaker so she can briefly hear me listening to Alice's Restaurant. That's our holiday tradition. I hope you enjoy yours with the stereo on.