"I got a '34 wagon and we call it a woodie" --- hearing that opening line, I'm rushed back to 1963 when I lived outside Chicago. Everything that mattered was happening in California that summer. Why was that music so important? Because it made me feel good. It made us all feel good. It made us feel like dancing the way they danced in California (which we learned watching Dick Clark's Bandstand); it made us grow our hair long and rinse it with lemon juice and sit in the meagre Midwestern sun. The music coming out of my transister radio connected me, invisibly, to every other teenager in America. We were all California girls, sidewalk surfers.
Greene has the chance to sing and play backup with Jan and Dean, and writes about it like the fan he is. He becomes a permanent member of the band. He talks about the venues, the sitting around waiting for the show to start, the going out for dinner afterwards, with a childlike appreciation for the incredibly gift he's been given: to play in a band he's admired since he was a kid.
He shares the itineraries with us, including the part that impels all the band members to show up: "TODAY WE: Play"
You'll want to listen to Jan and Dean, and the Beach Boys, while reading.
Caution: don't try to dance and read at the same time.
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