If the Band Keeps on Playin'

Artist: Little David Wilkins

Album: Little David Wilkins

Song: "Makin' Love in Waltz Time"

1-2-3, 1-2-3.

Of all the dance steps I learned during my brief time as Arthur Murray's 6' 5" tower of cash, the waltz proved to be my favorite.

1-2-3, 1-2-3.

That simple box step resonates with an almost-forgotten elegance. Man and woman locked arm in arm, a safe but tantalizing space between them.

1-2-3, 1-2-3.

I champion the modern-day grind, but that roots you to the floor. The waltz allows you to glide around the room, like a golden leaf carried upward and away by a cool fall wind.

1-2-3, 1-2-3.

Perhaps the attraction is sentimental. Even the older students—retirees, widows, and widowers—shied away from this old-fashioned step in favor of the hip-shaking and exciting cha-cha-cha and merengue.

1-2-3, 1-2-3.

Perhaps these interests met at a dance crossroad: the elders preferring steps with more vitality, while I enjoyed a chance to step back in time. When romance ruled over sex.

1-2-3, 1-2-3.

Rings on Her Fingers, Flowers in Her Hair

Artists: Ben Dover & Tennessee Tucker

Album: Carpetbaggers

Song: "Road to Norfolk"

An excerpt from Ed Buryn's Vagabonding in America:

Just as travel is a dramatization of life, so hitchhiking is a dramatization of travel. It breaks down even deeper norms and releases even more energy. Hitchhikers, like all adventurers, vibrate with this energy. It makes them sensitive and alive to their experiences, and attracts others to them. Of course, handling this energy is difficult: The more that things are random and unexpected, the more you need to improvise, the more you fully use all of yourself in the business of being. But then one day on the road, you suddenly realize that you're having the time of your life. You feel the energy of the universe flowing right thru you. It's the dream come true.

There's Magic in the Air

Artists: Lindisfarne

Album: Dingly Dell

Song: "Dingly Dell"

This LP's cover kept me from giving up on the record: five scuzzy hippies camped out in a forest, two even slouching in a psychedelic hammock. There had to be some gem hiding among the political screeds. I was reaching for the tone arm when the album's final track began to shapeshift, devolving into a primal pagan chant. I began to imagine those same hippies circling a campfire, encircled by a wall of tall trees. Arms and smoke stretch into a starry night sky, and voices wobble in a crescendo of stark desperation.

Tried to Hide My Fear

Artist: Charlie Brown

Album: Up From Georgia

Song: "Ain't Gonna Stay"

Consider this galloping Charlie Brown rocker the soundtrack to a deleted scene from an early '70s Burt Reynolds movie. Something like White Lightning, where Gator McKlusky careens through dirt back roads in a souped-up sedan. Mason jars full of precious moonshine clink in wooden crates while plumes of dust burst in the air. The local fuzz—dastards all—follow in hot pursuit, but ol' Gator can only look over his shoulder and grin, wiping the afternoon sweat from his tanned brow.

What's Come Over Me?

Artists: 1910 Fruitgum Co.

Album: 1, 2, 3 Red Light

Song: "Blue Eyes & Orange Skies"

Somebody put acid in the bubblegum.

Our Souls Must Grow Light

Artists: Akshooyooliak & Lou Gossett

Movie: The White Dawn

Song: "Untitled Chant"

Netflix has been great for exploring the dustier corners of the Warren Oates filmography. After watching the engaging Arctic drama The White Dawn, with its engrossing exploration of Inuit culture, I took to the Internet in search of the Henry Mancini-composed soundtrack. Some quick research revealed that a complete LP was never issued, and only a few scraps from the poignant score have found their way to various Mancini releases. Yet the most affecting musical moment was provided not by Mancini but one of the actors, an old medicine lady named Akshooyooliak. Her song simmers with a spectrum of emotions: sadness, hope, desperation, and resolve.

She Holds Her Lantern High

Artists: Patchwork

Album: Patchwork

Song: "Mountain Lady"

I've been finding most of the songs for Corduroy Mountain tucked away as deep cuts on forgotten (or never-known) 99¢ albums. There has been a specific quality to these songs that I hadn't been able to define until I read the new Bill Simmons NBA book. The Sports Guy is a master of developing homemade classifications and concepts such as "foxhole guys" and "stocks." In a moment of inspiration, I found the word that describes an excellent song stuck amongst lesser tunes: "stopability."

So there's a backhanded complement here. But as a record listener, that is what makes the hunt so exciting. The chance to discover greatness, to hear a song that requires you to stop reading a magazine or eating a chocolate donut and pay attention to the music. To go from multitasking to just tasking—listening to a song in rapture or disbelief. (Maybe you even swivel your noggin as the LP spins in an attempt to read the song title rather than checking the sleeve. Or is that just me?)

Stopability is a great and rare presence. "Mountain Lady" by Patchwork? That song has supreme stopability.