A place to indulge my narcissism... and write stuff...

Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker)

This song takes me back to the old “Youth Activity Center,” or “YAC” in Wakefield. It’s the place we’d go most weekend nights and the primary activity was hanging out before, but mostly after killing a few beers with our pals. It was in a basement of some old town building just off the lower common. Dillard and I would usually thumb from Greenwood and then inevitably be late getting home for our 11:00 curfew. Some cool townspeople ran the place, but I’m not sure I’ll remember them all right now. Freddie Roberto was usually there, as was Richie Wood. Richie was considered “very cool,” but once called a ball on the nastiest knuckler I ever threw in a Babe Ruth league game. It started out headed right at the hitter, who bailed out like I threw cheese at his chin, then the floating orb darted down and right over the plate. Perfect strike. Later at the “YAC” Richie apologized and admitted, “I missed it.” That was cool.

Upon arrival any night or Sunday afternoon at the YAC, it was usually not apparent my buddies were in the house. Dillard and I would have to shuffle back into the bowels of the men’s room where Freddie would be holding court. Of course the men’s room was where “Chico” and “Fitzy” dashed wearing nothing but paper bags on their heads during the “streaker” craze around 1973. Anyway, only after discussing the current state of the football team and other weighty issues like détente between the US and Russia would we emerge to mingle with the masses. My memories aren’t well lit right now, and neither was the YAC, but the place was lined with tabled booths on 3 sides, featured a pool and ping-pong table, and had a jukebox on the 4th wall, near the entrance. There are only two songs I remember the spew out of that thing; I guess that makes them unforgettable. The first was Zep’s “Whole Lotta Love.” It’s obviously a great song, and was the only top 10 single for the band in the US. It also features one of rocks great guitar riffs that would reverb endlessly because Glenn Forbes would kick the jukebox repeatedly so the record would skip and repeat the riff. Yeah, good times.

The memory tune is a “Star Trek” transporter room, atomizing me back to the YAC every time I hear the Billy Preston opening keyboard, the nasty Mick Taylor wah-wah solos and Jagger’s guttural yelps. Then there’s both Mick’s and “Keef” on the haunting background vocals. That’s the thing. That chorus. Yesterday on the commute home, I analyzed it, sang it, and loved its construction. Each refrain of the chorus starts off with one “Doo,” followed by three sets of “Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo.” I love words and they don’t always have to have deep meaning. Sometimes they can just be Doo Doo.

Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo
Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo
Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo, Doo”

1 Comment

  1. Dana

    Free knowledge like this doesn’t just help, it promote deccmraoy. Thank you.

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