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They say you have your whole life to put out your first album and just six months to write your second. Well this isn’t quite the same thing, but I can say I was feeling some pressure the moment I hit “publish” on entry number one.
On to song number two. John “Don’t call me Cougar” Mellencamp truly elicits memories from the way-back machine. I do remember listening to Rumbleseat off of his Scarecrow album, but only in that “now here’s a track between Small Town and R.O.C.K. in the USA to hold your interest Mr. Album Buyer” kind of way. My associated memories are certainly more tied to the artist than this particular song. They’re a sense of rural America that at age 12 was still mostly informed by regular trips to my parent’s hometown in upstate South Carolina. Mellencamp means cruising the mall with my cousins. Windows down. Music just loud enough for us and whomever was circling the mall in the opposite direction to hear. For perspective, that mall is 16 miles and two towns over from my parent’s hometown - and much further than that in other ways.
Mellencamp also means watching that same small town adjust to the closing of the textile mill that had been its central identity. He’s the first thought that came to mind when, as a Senate page, I roamed the US Capitol alongside the omnipresent purple jackets worn by the Future Farmers of America. To me, Mellencamp is a voice of America’s greatest asset – our people. But he’s also a reminder of why you can’t judge what you don’t know. The people in Mellencamp’s heartland might conger a number of antiquated associations – fair and otherwise, but to me - above all - his people embody decency.
Similar to our notions of the heartland, Mellencamp’s music is often confused for simple nostalgia. But like Bruce Springsteen’s anthem Born in the USA, Mellencamp’s songs are more often a biting commentary on the battle between the little guy and the man keeping him down. Between the family farm and the corporate one. Between the main street that use to exist and the super center now geographically situated down the road. He also writes of isolation and the tension between where you’re from and where you might go.
Rumbleseat is a bit more playful than all that, but I was able to ferret out the standard themes. For my “interpretation” I admittedly had to look-up the term "rumble seat". I had guessed the spring-loaded seat of an old tractor, but it is apparently the external, fold-out seat popular in some car models of the 1930s. In that light, Mellencamp’s lyrics may be referring to a sense of isolation experienced by riding outside of the norm. Or it may just be an apt reference to the “outmoded” life of the song’s main character and his/her home town.
I know just what it's like
To be a rider ridin' in the rumbleseat
Yes I know just what it's like
To be a big time rider in the rumbleseat
Still got some dreams left
Tomorrow is a new day
Gonna make these dreams come true
I'm gonna believe in myself
I'll tell you what I'm gonna do
I'm gonna stop puttin' myself down
I'm gonna turn my life around
Ps. In the middle of writing this entry I helped my daughter use her Hello Kitty CD player for the first time. I’m so excited to share this library with her one day.
PPs. Apparently rumble seats fell out of fashion by the late 1930s in part because of their danger. They frequently contributed to injuries – including decapitations. Sounds like someone was riding a little too high in the rumble seat.
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