Childhood is built on core memories that are attached to emotions. ‘John Williams and the Boston Pops, 1984 A Space Odyssey’ is definitely a core one for me. After seeing how much I loved Star Wars, Superman, and Raiders of the Lost Ark, my parents bought me this album on cassette. If there was ever a chance you could wear out a tape, then this would have been it. I played this cassette non-stop; I knew every note, movement, and transition. I wish I knew where this cassette went to… I spent years often thinking about this album, wishing I could recapture those feelings of my childhood. I ended up buying many John Williams CDs since, but never found this version. And then, nearly 30 years later, I find this LP in a milk crate in a local comic book store.
It’s not an especially great recording, and the sound needs a lot of boosting to get it up to a decent listening level, but it makes me love this LP even more. It recreates the grainy experience of listening to this album on a little plastic cassette player. And it definitely brings back childhood emotions when I put it on. The opening track of ‘Superman’ could not be more appropriate. The sweeping strings and building bass remind me how much I wished I could fly. ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ is the quintessential adventure piece, where I jumped, rolled, and paraded around like I could save the world. The ‘Twilight Zone’ was like stepping into a horror movie; a track that rarely appears on any other John Williams albums. Even ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’, which I heard on this album before seeing the movie, pulled me into the wonders of the universe and the sense that we are not alone in space. Interestingly, the Star Wars pieces on this album simply opened the movie up in my mind, and I’d have my bedroom floor covered in my Star Wars figures and spaceships, battling it out over and over.
When I found this album in October 2021 at Aron’s Collectibles store in Blackburn, we’d just emerged from a COVID lockdown phase, so getting out and about was desperately needed. I guess you look at the world differently after these kinds of experiences, because I hadn’t noticed this local store until this point.
Inside the store, I browsed lots of great toys from my childhood, but it was a random crate of LPs on the floor in the corner that blew me away. A few flicks in and suddenly I saw the cover – I blinked in disbelief. An album that had only existed in my childhood, one that I’d often wondered if I’d ever see again, was in my hands once more.
The only other time I’d truly recreated this experience was in 1997, when I visited Boston. Once arriving at the hostel, I saw an ad highlighting that John Williams and the Boston Pops were playing a concert. Somehow, I managed to grab a ticket in a seat up the back, and it was something truly special to be hearing those special pieces from the master himself, in Boston. I sat there grinning the entire concert. I think I have the ticket stub buried in a box somewhere.
John Williams has changed the orchestral experience for millions of people. He created movie worlds and sparked imagination, but most importantly, he captured emotion. Of the 14 John Williams albums I own, this is the most special. The flow of each piece in succession has become part of the listening experience that only I will ever understand. It will always remind me of the power of childlike imagination and the beauty that music can bring.
