The Eagles – Cindy Hval

In a world where music streams from apps like Pandora and Spotify, I listen to music at home the old-fashioned way.

No, I don’t spin vinyl albums on a turntable or pop tapes into an eight-track player, but I do own a stereo with a five-disc CD changer.

Our youngest son worked his way through college at Best Buy, and one of the last times he used his employee discount was to buy this sweet stereo for me.

He kind of had to if he wanted to eat.

My family knows cooking is how I unwind after a long day, and I can’t cook dinner without my tunes.

Sure, I can stream music from our television, but that dilutes the joy of sorting through our CD library and selecting the mix I want to hear for the week.

Every Monday, my fingers explore the options that heavily favor the best music era ever – the 1970s and ’80s.

Oh, I have plenty of albums from classic crooners like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, but the bulk of my collection stems from my childhood and teen years.

Why yes, I do have John Denver’s “Greatest Hits.” Gordon Lightfoot’s and Olivia Newton-John’s, too.

The Bee Gees, Bon Jovi, Billy Joel and the Eagles are well represented. But every week, at least one of the CDs in my stereo reveals my passion: movie soundtracks.

Some people love show tunes from Broadway musicals. To me, those mostly original songs feel more confined to the stage and the storyline, while movie tunes can captivate us right where we are.

Soundtracks make my toes tap, and I discovered long ago that cooking and dancing aren’t mutually exclusive.

From the original “Shrek” soundtrack, which introduced me to the band Smash Mouth, to the iconic before-my-time tracks from “Stand By Me,” the musical mix of old and new delights me.

I found the “Stand By Me” CD at the Spokane Symphony Associates Upscale Sale, and bought it primarily so I could listen to Buddy Holly sing “Every Day.” If that song doesn’t make you smile, even after a deadline-filled day, not much will.

Other oft-played albums bring happy memories of the movie experience.

“Footloose” came out in 1984, midway through my freshman year of college. My best friend and I saw it at the now-defunct North Division Cinemas.

When the reprise of the title track played, we leapt from our seats and danced in the aisles, and soon a large crowd joined us.

It’s hard to beat memorable moments like that, which may be why “Footloose” is my phone ringtone.

Derek and I loved the Joel and Ethan Cohen movie “O Brother Where Art Thou” when we saw it in theaters in 2000. Allison Krauss’ vocals add depth and resonance to the amazing soundtrack.

“Guardians of the Galaxy” included a great remix of classic songs like “Hooked on a Feeling” and “Fooled Around and Fell in Love,” while “The Greatest Showman” featured nine original songs. Its single “This is Me” won a Golden Globe for Best Original Song.

But the movie soundtrack that most often headlines my home rotation is “La La Land.”

At the 89th Academy Awards, the film won Best Original Score and Best Original Song for “City of Stars.” The tune’s multiple renditions in the film never fail to capture my emotions, and John Legend’s “Start a Fire” adds the perfect coda to the end of a long day.

Tonight, as Emma Stone sings “Audition (The Fools Who Dream)” while I chop vegetables for a simple stew, I’ll likely pause to take a few twirls around the dining room.

Here’s to the ones who dream

Foolish as they may seem

Here’s to the hearts that ache

Here’s to the mess we make.

It’s a lovely soundtrack for everyday life.

18882142_1433976726640950_512120073299930773_n[1] Derek and I had a peaceful easy feeling in May when we joined several thousand of our closest friends to hear the Eagles in concert at the Spokane Arena.

From the moment the opening a cappella strains of “Seven Bridges Road” soared through the venue, till the final sweet notes of “Desperado” echoed, we were enthralled and entertained.

The Eagles are a band even my parents would have approved of … except for the somewhat controversial “Hotel California.”

When I was growing up parental approval did not extend to the “devil’s music,” so I started rocking later than most of my peers.

Our home was filled with the music of the Gaither Vocal Band and Dottie Rambo, and of course, Elvis – gospel and hymn recordings only.

In the ’80s backward masking was on the nightly news. We teens were told the subliminal messages contained in albums by certain bands would turn us into devil worshippers.

We attended seminars at the Spokane Convention Center where speakers warned us that subliminal messages weren’t limited to records. Even eating crackers could send one spiraling into sin due to the word “SEX” being spelled out in the dots of a Ritz cracker.

That explains why I still prefer Wheat Thins, and why my first concert was Ronnie Milsap. I’d never heard of him, but my best friend really wanted to go. My parents thought country music wasn’t as dangerous as rock ’n’ roll.

Of course, I listened to the American Top 40 on the radio so I could keep current with the sinful state of the world. That radio rebellion must have corrupted me. How else to explain the first album I purchased was Quiet Riot’s “Metal Health.”

But metal never moved me much, especially once I discovered Bon Jovi. Their music was the soundtrack of my teen and young adult years.

My husband was an avid concertgoer in his teens, and when we met he was astonished by my rock ’n’ roll ignorance.

“Just think if you hadn’t married me you would know nothing about Van Halen. Nothing!” he often says.

During our early married years, the cost of raising four kids put concert attendance out of our reach.

We did splurge on Jim Brickman tickets when he came to the INB Performing Arts Center around the time of our anniversary one year. My parents would also approve of Jim; our children, however, were mortified.

“My gosh! If John Denver was still alive, you’d probably pay money to see him, too!” our teenager groaned.

“Well, duh!” I replied, and launched into a spirited rendition of “Grandma’s Feather Bed.”

As our kids grew older, our wallets grew less lean, but I was still shocked when five years ago Derek surprised me with tickets to Bon Jovi.

He’d already taken the boys to see Van Halen when they were in Tacoma the previous year, and he wanted me to be able to hear my favorite band in concert, too.

But the biggest surprise was how much Derek, a Bon Jovi-scoffer, loved the show.

“That was absolutely amazing! Best concert I’ve ever attended!” he said afterward.

Since then we’ve seen a slew of bands and performers. Our son treated us to Bob Dylan in Seattle. And we got our ’80s groove on with Foreigner, Styx, Loverboy, Joan Jett (twice), Pat Benatar and Melissa Etheridge when they’ve performed at Northern Quest.

But it was seeing Blondie in 2015 that reminded Derek of the passage of time.

“Debbie Harry is still so hot!” he enthused.

I grinned.

“Not bad for 70, huh?”

Stricken, Derek gasped, “She’s almost as old as my mother!”

Time has not been good for all bands, however.

Derek was delighted when the newspaper asked me to review Def Leppard when they came to town last summer with Tesla and Poison.

The show was fine, and Leppard fans were pleased, but there was a lot of sweat and a lot of screaming – both on stage and in the audience. For the first time, we both had to wear ear plugs.

The difference between metal bands and more mellow bands becomes apparent as the members age.

“You can actually understand the lyrics when the Eagles and Bon Jovi sing,” he said. “Van Halen and Def Leppard just play louder to compensate for their fading vocals.”

There you have it. We’ve reached the age where the words matter just as much as the music.

Some folks do their rocking in chairs, but we’re going to keep doing ours at concert venues – at least while we can still hear the lyrics.