The Enneagram's Type Seven is the Enthusiast, the Adventurer, the Pleasure Seeker. At their best, musical Sevens infect their audiences with a joy so full and pure that it touches on the divine. 

I can't think of a better example of this than soul legend Sam Cooke. Here he is, live at the Harlem Square (which is (or was) in Miami, not Harlem)(but he's playing for a black audience, loose and free, not the cleaned up stuff he did for whites) in 1963, with Feel It. How can you not burst with happiness listening to this guy??

 

                                                     

 

Baby when the band is playing and that solid beat
O, make you wanna move, make you wanna groove
make you wanna pat your feet
Don't fight it, don't fight, feel it

No, now when we dance close together
with your cheek close to mine
and you begin to feel, a funny little thrill
moving up your spine
Don't fight it, don't fight, feel it

Baby, when the swinging music, makes you wanna flip
Don't be in pain, trying to restrain
go ahead and move your hips
Baby when you're dancing near me
and I feel I wanna tease
And when I do, the feeling gets you
when you feel you wanna squeeze
Don't fight it, don't fight, feel it

 

The ruling passions of sevens is gluttony, and not just for food. Travel! Booze! Laughter! New sensations! Sex partners! Thrills! Sevens want it all. Life is a glorious buffet, and they want to try every single item. Indie folk artist Carolyn Mark captures this rapacious appetite in her song 1 Thing (it's not on youtube, so click here to listen to it)

 

Well I could never pick just one thing

That's why I don't have a tattoo

I'll take all of or nothing,

it's always me and you and you

 

What's the use of one of something,

One of anything's just no good

How do you choose just one tree

When you're in love with the whole earth…

 

It's funny to do the math

when you're running with the pack

but it ain't no laugh

cuz one of anything's just a half…

 

If everything could mean something

The whole life that you live

How do you pick just one thing

When you've got so much left to give

Some hearts can be lifted

With just one little finger

Others seems so heavy

That they dream of a small team

 

Filled with frustration at those desert island questions

It's hard to pick a side

When you know the other dies

 

Sevens are fast learners. They're often child prodigies. Eddie Van Halen erupted into mainstream music at the tender age of seventeen (having switched to the guitar after years of playing classical piano). His fingers played at a blistering speed no one had thought possible. Lead singer David Lee Roth (a former acrobat) has also been typed as a Seven, and Van Halen's music is about times so good, you might as well jump. Listen to Panama. What's it about? The country? The canal? Beats me. Who cares! Dig that groove! Feel that beat! I dare you to stop yourself from moving to those guitar rhythms!

 

                                                 

 

Jump back, what's that sound?

Here she comes, full blast'n top down

Hot shoe, burnin' down the avenue

Model citizen, zero discipline

 

Don't you know she's coming home with me

You'll lose her in that turn

I'll get her!

 

Panama, Panama

 

Ain't nothin' like it, it's a shining machine

Got the feel for the wheel, keep the movin' parts clean

Hot shoe, burnin' down the avenue

Got an on-ramp comin' through my bedroom

 

She's runnin', I'm flyin'

Right behind in the rearview mirror now

Got the fearin', power steerin'

Pistons poppin', ain't no stoppin' now

 

Eddie named his son Wolfgang, after another famous Seven. Mozart, as portrayed in the movie Amadeus is often listed as a Seven. He was a child prodigy, playing for the crown heads of Europe at age five and composing before ten. In this scene he plays the welcome march court composer Salieri wrote for him after hearing it once, and then improvises a brilliant variation as the Austrian emperor and his entourage watch. See the mischievous look on his face after he's done it. Listen to that laugh.

 

                                                 

 

More Sam Cooke! Cooke entered through the audience at that Harlem Square show and saw a scorpion on the floor. He stepped on it with the heel of his boot, and didn't miss a beat.

 

                                               

 

Let me tell ya 'bout a place

Somewhere up a New York way

Where the People are so gay

Twistin the night away

 

Here they have a lot of fun

Puttin' trouble on the run

Man you find the old and young

Twistin' the night away

 

Twistin, twistin, twistin the night away

Everybody's feeling great

They are Twistin' twistin'

Twistin the night away

 

Here's a Man in evening clothes

How he got here I don't know, but

man, you oughtta see him go

Twistin' the Night away

 

He's dancing with the chick in slacks

She's a-moving up and back

Oh Man, there ain't nothing like

Twistin the night away

 

They're twistin. twistin, twistin,

Everybody's feeling great

They're twistin, twistin

They're twistin the night away

 

Let's twist a while, Feet up, feet back

Watusi, now fly, now twist

They're twistin the Night away

 

Here's a feller in blue jeans

dancing with the older queen

who's dolled up in a diamand rings

Twistin' the night away

 

Man you oughtta see her go

Twistin' to the Rock and Roll

Man you find the old and young

Twistin' the night away

 

Ella Fitzgerald gives Cooke a run for his money in the joy department. Not sure if she's a Seven. Wikipedia says she was shy off stage. Sevens can be shy, but they're usually the life of the party. Regardless, Ella anyone who heard her with happiness every time she opened her mouth on stage. In this famous recording she forgets the words, and improvises on exactly that. She scats, she does a Louis Armstrong impression.

 

                                         

 

Ella said, "The only thing better than singing is more singing." Toronto folk/country troubadour Corin Raymond would agree. He plays bars, he plays folk festivals, he plays house concerts. He plays! He gets Paid to Party (click here to listen - this ain't on youtube either).

 

I get paid to party

and it ain't no life

Won't feed any children

It won't satisfy a wife

 

It won't keep a girlfriend long

but it's fun for a little while

See friends, I don't have a life

All I have is a lifestyle

 

I get paid to find the right word

I get paid to live out loud

I get paid to entertain my friends

and to make my friends proud

 

I get paid to have a big old time

and to stay up all night long

I get paid to drink your wine

and to sing another song

 

and my down time

is coming down time

 

Yeah, I always like the dark time

I don't like the night to end

When I was a kid at bed time

I didn't wanna go to bed

 

My dad used to open up my door

and say it's time to settle down

I couldn't wait to grow up

so I could live right downtown

 

Cuz I just knew that out in the world

there were people like me

that all us freaks would find each other,

eventually, see

 

I get paid to party

it's the life I chose

every night at sundown

I put on my party clothes

 

so let me into your country

mr immigration man

which part of "paid to party"

do you fail to understand

 

I get paid to party

that's how I got this cough

gonna take more than a couple days

to run this thing off

 

when I run out of night time

and the booze is gone

Look at me gettin' home again

on the wrong side of the dawn

 

I get paid to party

cuz it's all I know

must be something else

a man can do after the show

 

No one knows how to have a good time like Sevens. Betty White's still doing it in her eighties:

 

                                       

 

I hook up with the Lifeline
I got big cash in no time
I’m living life at the top
Guess what? I’m still hot

Sky rocket, I’ll make it pop
I’m hittin' jackpot
Backin' you stacking' you rap
And I’ll make your head bop

I’m smokin' hot in the world
I’m still a golden girl
I may be a senior so what
I’m still hot

From Londontown to LA
I shake it all the way
I rock your world with my cheesecake
I’m still hot

I always come out on top
I’m Betty from the block
I locked my Emmys in my beat box

Hit harder than hard
Flashin' then cash in the cars
Je suis a rockstar
Guess what? I’m still hot

I will get you sweaty
Cuz I’m the big Betty
I can do whatever
Guess what? I’m still hot

 

See Betty feeding Luciana cheesecake at the end there? Pure Seven. It's delicious. It's super yummy. Come on, open up sweetie. Yes you keep eating you skinny little…

And that's what I'm doing with this post. Open up, gluttonous Sevens! More more more...

 

Opera! From Rossini, who wrote thirty-two hugely successful operas, often dashing off sections at the very last minute. He retired at thirty-seven and devoted the rest of his life to cooking and eating. In this famous aria, the title character in The Barber of Seville sings about being the town factotum (jack of all trades), and how much he loves being in demand, being asked to do many things, and being able to do them all.

 

                                     

 

Largo al factotum della città. Presto a bottega che l'alba è già. Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere per un barbiere di qualità! di qualità!	Make way for the factotum of the city, Hurrying to his shop since dawn is already here. Ah, what a fine life, what fine pleasure For a barber of quality!
Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo! Fortunatissimo per verità!	Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo! A most fortunate man indeed!
Pronto a far tutto, la notte e il giorno sempre d'intorno in giro sta. Miglior cuccagna per un barbiere, vita più nobile, no, non si da.	Ready to do everything Night and day, Always on the move. A cushier fate for a barber, A more noble life, is not to be had.
Rasori e pettini lancette e forbici, al mio comando tutto qui sta. V'è la risorsa, poi, del mestiere colla donnetta... col cavaliere...	Razors and combs, Lancets and scissors, At my command Everything's there. Here are the tools Of my trade With the ladies...with the gentlemen...
Tutti mi chiedono, tutti mi vogliono, donne, ragazzi, vecchi, fanciulle: Qua la parrucca... Presto la barba... Qua la sanguigna... Presto il biglietto... Qua la parrucca, presto la barba, Presto il biglietto, ehi!	Everyone asks for me, everyone wants me, Ladies, young lads, old men, young girls: Here is the wig...the beard is ready... Here are the leeches... The note is ready... Here is the wig, the beard is ready, The note is ready, hey!
Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, ecc. Ahimè, che furia! Ahimè, che folla! Uno alla volta, per carità! Ehi, Figaro! Son qua. Figaro qua, Figaro là, Figaro su, Figaro giù,	Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, etc. Ah, what frenzy! Ah, what a crowd! One at a time, please! Hey, Figaro! I'm here. Figaro here, Figaro there, Figaro up, Figaro down,
Pronto prontissimo son come il fulmine: sono il factotum della città. Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo; a te fortuna non mancherà.	Swifter and swifter, I'm like a thunderbolt: I'm the factotum of the city. Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo, You'll never lack for luck!

 

The factotum, the jack of all trades. Sevens are generalists. Bit this, bit of that, and that and that and that. At their worst they can be scattered and leave dozens of projects unfinished (or not even get past the initial burst of inspiration), but at their best they can accomplish tremendous amounts, applying their boundless energy to many endeavours and bringing zest and vigour to each one.

 

Shel Silverstein exemplifies this. He was a cartoonist for Playboy in the late 50s and early 60s, engaging in another Seven passion: travel. He went around the world, taking pictures, writing and drawing about his experiences. He wrote and drew kid's books that are still massive sellers, more than ten years after his death - A Light in the Attic, the Giving Tree, the Missing Piece. He wrote a hundred one act plays. And he wrote songs that other people made famous: A Boy Named Sue, Cover of a Rolling Stone, The Unicorn. His songs (and poems) are often hugely wordy with an elaborate narrative and crazy twisting bending rhymes. Sevens don't just to want to travel everywhere and try everything - they want to say it all. Everything! Every time! Listen to this fantastical tale - The Smoke Off, in which Yankee Stadium fills up with pot-heads to watch a contest of the fastest roller squaring off against the fastest smoker.

 

                                 

 

Now in the laid back California town of sunny San Raphael

Lived a girl named Pearly Sweetcake you prob'ly knew her well

She'd been stoned fifteen of her eighteen years and the story was widely told

That she could smoke 'em faster than anyone could roll

 

Now her legend finally reached New York that Grove Street walk-up flat

Where dwelt The Calistoga Kid a beatnik from the past

He'd been rollin' dope since time began, now he took a cultured toke

And said, "Jim I can roll ‘em faster than any chick can smoke."

So a note gets sent to San Raphael for the Championship of the World

The Kid demands a smoke off. "Well bring him on!" says Pearl

"I'll grind his fingers off his hands. He'll roll until he drops."

Says Calistoge, "I'll smoke that chick till she blows up and pops."

 

So they rent out Yankee Stadium and the word is quickly spread

Come one come all who walk or crawl, tickets, just two lids a head

And from every town and hamlet over land and sea they speed

The world's greatest dopers with the world's greatest weed

 

Hashishers from Morocco, hemp smokers from Peru

And the Shashnicks from Bagun who puff the deadly Pugaroo

And those who call it Light of Life and those who call it boo

 

See the dealers and their ladies wearing turquoise lace and leather

See the narcos and the closet smokers puffin' all together

From the teenies who smoke legal to the ones who've done some time

To the old man who smoked reefer back before it was a crime

And the grand old house that Ruth built is filled with the smoke and cries

Of fifty thousand screaming heads all stoned out of their minds

And they play the national anthem and the crowd lets out a roar

As the spotlight hits The Kid and Pearl ready for their smokin' war

 

At a table piled up high with grass as high as a mountain peak

Just tops and buds of the rarest flowers not one stem branch or seed

I mean-a Maui Wowie, Panama Red, Acapulco Gold

Kif from East Afghanistan and that rare Alaskan Cold

And there's sticks from Thailand, Ganja from the Islands and Bangkok's Bloomin' Best

And some of that wet imported shit that capsized off Key West

And there's Oaxacan tops and Kenya Bhang and Riviera Fleurs

And that rare Manhatten Silver that grows down the New York sewers

And there's bubblin' ice cold lemonade and sweet grapes by the bunches

And there's Hersheys bars and Oreos ‘case anybody gets the munchies

And the Calistoga Kid he smiles and Pearley she just grins

And the drums roll low, wah, and the crowd yells go, go, go, go

And the worlds first Smoke Off begins

 

Well the Kid flicks his fingers once and zap that first joint's rolled

Pearl takes one hit with her famous lungs and whoosh that roach is cold

Then The Kid he rolls his Super Bomb that could paralyze a moose

And Pearl takes one mighty hit and,(sharp inhaling sound) that bomb's defused

Then he rolls three in just ten seconds and she smokes 'em up in nine

And everybody sits back and says, hey, this just might take some time

 

See the blur of flyin' fingers, see the red coals burnin' bright

As the night turns into mornin' and the mornin' fades to night

And the autumn turns to summer and a whole damn year is gone

And the two still sit on that roach-filled stage smokin' and rollin' on

 

With tremblin hands he rolls his jays, with fingers blue and stiff

Pearl coughs and stares with bloodshot gaze and puffs through blistered lips

And there she reaches out her hand for another stick of gold

The Kid he gasps, "Damn it bitch there's nothin' left to roll!"

"Nothin' left to roll!" screams Pearl. "Is this some twisted joke?

I didn't come here to fuck around, man I come here to smoke!"

And she reaches 'cross the table and grabs his bony sleeves

And she crumbles his body between her hands like dried and brittle leaves

Just a flickin' out his teeth and bones, like, like useless stems and seeds

And then she rolls him in a Zig Zag and lights him like a roach

And the fastest man with the fastest hands goes up in a puff of smoke

 

In the laid-back California town of sunny San Raphael

Lives a girl named Pearly Sweetcake you prob'ly know her well

She's been stoned twenty-one of her twenty-four years and the story's widely told

How she still can smoke 'em faster than anyone can roll

While off in New York City on a street that has no name

There's the hands of the Calistoga Kid in the Vipers' Hall of Fame

And underneath his fingers there's a little golden scroll

That says, "Beware of bein' the roller when there's nothin' left to roll."

 

Country! Tom Condon typed Lorretta Lynn as a Seven. I don't know enough about her to know if this is indeed the case, but I'll take his word for it. Like many country stars her songs often focus on love found or love lost, but The Pill has a wonderfully Seven-ish quality. It's about how much fun she's going to have now that she's on birth control. She's going to dress up all sexy and not have to stay at home, pregnant.

 

                               

 

You wined me and dined me
When I was your girl
Promised if I'd be your wife
You'd show me the world
But all I've seen of this old world
Is a bed and a doctor bill
I'm tearin' down your brooder house
'Cause now I've got the pill

All these years I've stayed at home
While you had all your fun
And every year that's gone by
Another baby's come
There's a gonna be some changes made
Right here on nursery hill
You've set this chicken your last time
'Cause now I've got the pill
This old maternity dress I've got
Is goin' in the garbage
The clothes I'm wearin' from now on
Won't take up so much yardage
Miniskirts, hot pants and a few little fancy frills
Yeah I'm makin' up for all those years
Since I've got the pill

I'm tired of all your crowin'
How you and your hens play
While holdin' a couple in my arms
Another's on the way
This chicken's done tore up her nest
And I'm ready to make a deal
And ya can't afford to turn it down
'Cause you know I've got the pill

This incubator is overused
Because you've kept it filled
The feelin' good comes easy now
Since I've got the pill

It's gettin' dark it's roostin' time
Tonight's too good to be real
Oh but daddy don't you worry none
'Cause mama's got the pill

Oh daddy don't you worry none
'Cause mama's got the pill

Hip Hop! So much of hip-hop culture is dominated by or least includes toughness (don't mess with me, I'll do this and this and this, etc etc) or bragging about how great they are (no one can match my rhymes, etc etc). But Freestyle Fellowship takes pure delight in words, in images, in absolute celebration. Case in point: Cornbread

 

                           

 

Well here we go hot cake dough?

Jellybeans banjo candy store

Polka dot backpack microphone

Shamalama ding dong doggie bone

Chippeechippa chop bust a flip flop

Skateboard tennis shoes ice cream shop

Telephone poles bakin' hot rolls

A '91 pinto sittin' on Vogues

Bubble gum tick tock hound dog fleas

Cock-a-doodle doo-doo and some hog head cheese

Leap out the room grab the old broom

Eat a watermelon and walk on the moon

Cherry coke canteloupe little old maid

A big black berry inside the kool-aid

A bass guitar a old fruit jar

A green canteen and a chocolate bar

Cannonball baby doll football fan

I flipped a mad dog and a Japanese man

A double bunk bed a 40 to the head

Now get up and watch me rap to cornbread

 

Well have ya ever kilt a great white shark? Well I have

I was on a boat I built and sailed around the world don't laugh

Yeah I was a crook an' met Captain Hook an' got tookin' a captive

Wrote a book in 31,000 chapters yeah yeah that's it

I seen the ghost of Augie Creek

I went to Fantasy Island Gilligan's Island and Pirate's Peak

And then to Napa Valley rappers alley and stayed a week

I met the queen of all my dreams and we danced cheek to cheek

And then we freaked

Had a fight with King Kong Godzilla and Rodan

Johnny Socko's giant robot and wrestled with Conan

I jumped on a rocket with Davy Crockett headed for no man's land

And landed and seen a time bandit in the sand

I travelled with Gulliver and I'm a hell of a patrol

Looking for the Acapulco pot of gold

He blazed I raised little bastard got me floated

Hit the road and had to hitch with the son of a bitch who turned into a toad

You ever slept on blueberry hill well I will

We'll have to connive and cook and clean for a meal and that's real

Planted three jolly green bean weed seeds in a field

A tree grew all the way up to the sky and I smoked it

 

Well I seen zig zag as he was zooming in a Z

Looking zorked and zany like a Zulu zombie

He thought he was a zenith with a zebra on the scene

He was a buzzing in the zone like he was zapped

Bullshit

 

Well jingle bell jingle bell sugar on toast

The fellowship shop is from the west coast

Hey hash and eggs crocodile legs

I'll bring the chronic you bring the kegs

Buckwheat and stymie's down with Rodney Allen Rippey

While Tommy and Annica were beating up Pippy

Karate chops snap crackle pops

You do the hip thing and I'll do the hop

Cough up a loogie shake break and boogie

Cause i got a home girl that's giving out noogies

Mr George Bush was on my floor

Cracked out butt naked watchin' the Cosby Show

Hey little rascals Eddie Haskell

Black eyed peas with a lot of tabasco

Chico Stix big fat chicks

Old reruns of the Jefferson hits

Eenie meenie miny mo Larry and Shemp

Slide me some skin on the black side pimp

Training bras holey drawers

Vonte and D double E is breakin' all the laws

Double dutch afros parakeet crap

Honey i kilt the kids with my rap

Then my DJ Kiilu he came and said

Yo i'll scratch the break you rap the cornbread hey

 

There are more lyrics to this song, but I've already gotten restless so let's move on to…

 

Comedy! The world of comedy is replete with Sevens (not that all comedians are Sevens)(there are nine ways to be a comedian, just like there are nine ways to be a mom, nine ways to be a poet, nine ways to be a therapist, nine ways to be President of the United States). Julie Brown made a name for herself in the heyday of MTV with songs like Everybody Run, the Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun. She repeatedly parodied Madonna. And in this song, she exaggerates a Seven's penchant for sex as pure physical gratification. Make me feel good! Let's have some fun!

 

                         

 

When I need somethin' to help me unwind

I find a six foot baby with a one track mind

Smart guys are nowhere, they make demands

Give me a moron with talented hands

I go bar-hopping and they say last call

I start shopping for a Neanderthal

 

The bigger they come the harder I fall

In love til we're done then they're out in the hall

 

I like 'em big and stupid

I like 'em big and real dumb

I like 'em big and stupid

 

What kind of guy does a lot for me

A Superman with a lobotomy

My fathers outta Harvard

My brothers outta Yale

But the guy I took home last night

Just got outta jail

 

The way he grabbed and threw me, ooh it really got me hot

But the way he growled and bit me, I hope he had his shots

The bigger they are the harder they'll work

I got a soft spot for a good lookin' jerk

 

I met a guy, who drives a truck

He can't tell time but he sure can drive

I asked his name and he had to think

Could I have found the missing link

He's so stupid you know what he said

Well I forgot what he said, 'cause it was so stupid

 

I hope you don't have the impression that Sevens don't suffer. They'll often deal with stress and suffering by burying it under… more fun! More joy! A happy countenance! Here's Sam Cooke doing exactly that with Laughin' and Clownin'.

 

                   

 

Laughin' and Clownin'
just to keep from crying
I'm Laughin' and Clownin'
just to keep from crying

I keep on trying to hide the fact I've got a worried mind
Let me tell you,
Being life of the party seemed to be my role
Since you left me baby
Being life of the party seemed to be my role
I keep on trying to hide my feelings, trying to hide my soul
Let me tell you what I do
I stand in the doorway, watching all the girls go through
You might not believe me baby but
I stand in the doorway, watching all the girls go through
I keep on trying to find someone
to take my mind off you
I keep on laughing and clowning
To take my mind off you

Nobel Prize winning physicist Richard Feynman would often stop in the middle of a lecture and play the bongos. Keep that audience entertained! This clip shows he was quite adept at hitting the skins, and radiates a pure joy doing so - but consider the context. This clip was filmed the day before his second operation for cancer - a fourteen hour under the knife ordeal. Half his diaphragm was missing, one kidney wasn't operating, he had a heart condition, a blood condition and two forms of cancer. He sings about needing to get some orange juice as a flippant response to Linus Pauling's recommendation to get more Vitamin C to cure his cancer.

 

                 

 

David Crosby lived for fun, excitement and adventure. He revelled in musical creation and layering of harmonies. Supposedly Crosby, Stills & Nash would stay in the studio for days on end, unaware of the outside world (studios usually have no windows), buoyed by a ant-hill of cocaine. But in the early 70s, Crosby's girlfriend died in a car accident, and instead of plunging into deeper excesses, he cut I'd Swear There Was Somebody Here - vocals laid over vocals, pure cries of pain and sadness.

 

           

 

Sevens are sometimes described as superficial, surface skimmers (the steady stream of songs about fun and partying and good times in this post may have given that impression) but there's more to them than that. Sevens are idealists. They want freedom and joy and the right to be happy, and they want that for everyone. Jamie Oliver takes absolute delight in cooking, and his overarching message is that anyone can do it. Anyone can combine whole, natural ingredients and make something delicious that's good for you. And wouldn't we all be better off if we did that? And we'd have a good time doing it, too! Here's a TED talk he did. Nothing musical about it, but what an inspirational figure he is.

 

         

 

Back to the fun! Punk Bluegrass! Winnipeg's D.Rangers song Knives gets you with infectious rhythms from the first note. And why are they playing? They're waiting for the knives to get hot. And what exactly could hot knives be useful for? (yet again, not on youtube - listen to the song by clicking here)

 

It takes time for cream to thicken

It takes time for ribs to braise

It takes time to fry good chicken

It takes time to heat the blades

 

We gonna play until the knives get hot!

We gonna play until the knives get hot!

 

I spent my finners

Not on trees or herbs or buds

Now all we've got for dinner

Is a great big chunk of bud

 

We gonna play until the knives get hot!

We gonna play until the knives get hot!

 

Brown goes in the brownies

Just like water in a pipe

Silver bullets kill ya young

And go seal's always hype (?)

 

We gonna play until the knives get hot!

We gonna play until the knives get hot!

 

Little balls of hog cheese

Lined up on a plate

Hog cheese, buddy, hog cheese

It kills a man to wait

 

We gonna play until the knives get hot!

We gonna play until the knives get hot!

 

Riso/Hudson type Bette Midler as a Seven. She's got an aggressive streak, which could be a strong Eight wing. And the song she's best known for - The Wind Beneath My Wings - seems to be addressed to a Two. But dig this song, from her stage show - Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. The showmanship! The sheer entertainment exploding from the stage!

 

       

 

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way.

He had a boogie style that no one else could play.

He was the top man at his craft,

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft.

He's in the army now. He's blowin' reveille.

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.

 

They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam.

It really brought him down because he could not jam.

The captain seemed to understand,

Because the next day the cap' went out and drafted the band.

And now the company jumps when he plays reveille.

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.

 

A root, a toot, a toodlie-a-da-toot.

He blows it eight to the bar in boogie rhythm.

He can't blow a note unless a bass and guitar is playin' with him.

And the company jumps when he plays reveille.

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.

 

He was some boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.

And when he played his boogie woogie bugle

He was busy as a busy bee.

And when he played he made the company jump eight to the bar.

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.

 

Andata toodliata-toodliata toot toot

Je blows it eight to the bar.

He can't blow a note if a bass and guitar

isn't with him.

And the company jumps when he plays reveille.

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.

 

He puts the boys to sleep with boogie every night,

and wakes 'em up the same way in the early bright.

They clap their hands and stamp their feet,

Cause they know how it goes when someone gives him a beat.

Whoa, whoa, he wakes 'em up when he plays reveille.

The boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.

A root, a toot, a toodli-a-da to toot toot toot

He's blowin' eight to the bar.

Yeah, he can't blow a note if a bass and guitar

isn't, whoa, with him.

And the company jumps when he plays reveille.

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company B.

 

Are you getting tired? I am. Sevens get tired. All of that partying… Sevens can crash. They can burn out entirely. Eddie Van Halen has gone through rehab for alcoholism more than once - he also had a hip replacement for injuries from acrobatic stage antics and crashes. His abundant smoking resulted in tongue cancer, and he's now had about a third of his tongue removed. David Crosby's drug and alcohol abuses landed him in a Texas prison for nine months and eventually necessitated a liver transplant. Shel Silverstein dropped dead from a heart attack in his sixties. Keith Moon (a likely Seven), drummer for The Who, died at 32, having taken 32 tablets of a prescription sedative to combat alcohol withdrawal (six of which were sufficient to kill him). Charlie Parker (another likely Seven) OD'd on heroin at 34 - the doctor who came to examine him initially estimated his age as 60. John Belushi died at 33 of a combined shot of heroin and cocaine. Mozart died at 36 and was buried in a pauper's grave.

 

But Betty White's still going strong, with a huge career revival in her eighties. Rossini grew enormously fat at lived well into his seventies, relishing every gourmet dish he cooked, his operas still loved and produced in his lifetime, and continue to be popular to this day. Ella Fitzgerald reached the ripe old age of 79. Bette Midler's career in film, TV and music is still going strong in her 60s. Keith Richards has outlived many a doctor who predicted his early death, and is still touring, smoking and enjoying the life of a rock star. Jimmy Buffett's having a great time in Margaritaville. And Chico Marx entertained, seduced, gambled and laughed right into his seventies. Look at him play the piano (in the Marx Brothers' movie Monkey Business), with his trademark finger pistols:

 

     

 

A Seven's belief that she can fill what's missing inside with more, more and always more is the characteristic error of perception of that type. Sevens intuit the great abundance of Being, of Essence, of the universe. And it isn't something that any physical gratification can replace. The abundance is all around us, always, and can never go away - it's just a matter of being present to it.

 

As Riso & Hudson put it, a liberated Seven lets go of the belief that they need specific objects and experiences to feel fulfilled. The simplest and most basic elements of everyday life become a source of wonder. Liberated Sevens are joyful, receptive, satisfied and truly free exactly where they are.

 

Let's close with some more Sam Cooke. Havin' a Party!

 

   

 

We're having a party

Dancing to the music

Played by the DJ

On the radio

The Cokes are in the icebox

The popcorn's on the table

Me and my baby, we're out here on the floor

 

So listen, Mr. DJ

Keep those records playing

'Cause I'm having such a good time

Dancing with my baby

 

Everybody's swinging

Sally's doing that twist now

If you take request

I got a few for you

Play that song called Soul Twist

Play that one called I Know

Don't forget the Mashed Potatoes

No other songs will do

 

Let me tell you Mr., Mr. DJ

Why don't you keep those records playing

'Cause I'm having such a good time

Dancing with my baby

 

We're having a party

Everybody's swinging

Dancing to the music

On the radio