I’ve come to realize over the past few months that I kind of love The Association. I guess I’ve always loved The Association, at least the hits, which is all you ever hear and are really even ever supposed to hear with bands like that, I’ve just never known or I guess cared whose hits they were. Because they were like the butter of oldies stations. It’s Saturday night and you’re driving back to Birmingham after an Auburn game with your dad (wait, why aren’t we spending the night at Grandmama’s?) and the dashboard is glowing and Windy or Along Comes Mary or Cherish or Never My Love comes on— it’s the ingredient in every oldies-on-the-radio car trip of childhood, of adulthood. They’re just there, so good you never think about them, never really would even think to call to request them (until maybe you reach blog post level awareness), but so silently YES when they come on. And they, this whole time, were a band called The Association… that band…The Association. (I’m sure if I was reading a Trivial Pursuit card, even as a kid, and saw the name The Association, I wouldn’t have questioned that it was the name of a ’60s band, so perfectly ’60s I almost could totally see it being the name of a talent show band in The Wonder Years or something. It’s just a name I never would have thought of without a Trivial Pursuit card, you know?)
Not going to lie—I was about to say never mind and run away when I saw whatever that little routine was before they started playing. But by the end it totally worked. And they’re American, that made me proud. So many of them aren’t, even the ones you think are.
You can learn about my associations with The Dandy Warhols here.