Thursday, May 08, 2003

Music Makes the People Come Together...

The big thing that seems to be circulating around my daily blog reads these days is responding to a Friday Five that asked questions about which songs make people happy, sad, turned-on.

I won't be participating in THAT, per se. You see, I find that such things quickly become an exercise in displaying one's hipness. "Look! See how many unusual bands I like! I am uber hip!" And well, the songs that evoke a given emotion in me aren't necessarily a reflection of my "Actual Musical Tastes".

So, I thought I'd share some songs that bring to mind certain phases of my life, or things/people that/who are important to me. Music seems very connected to the limbic system--hearing a certain song can take me (emotionally anyway) straight back to the time I associate it with.


Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit It was my junior year in high school. I was wearing some combination of shredded jeans shorts, black tights, a see-thru top, and combat boots (or something very similar to combat boots). While cruising around, my friend Lisa (a hopeless girly preppy) and I met up with some kids we went to school with, and their friends from another school. We went to Wendy's, ate some hamburgers, and headed off to a huge fires-in-trash-cans party at the beach. I ended up hooking up with a guy who played in a band, and we "dated" for a bit--till I started hooking up with a different guy. One who didn't play in a band. Big mistake. Always stay with the band guy when you're in high school.

Live's Lightning Crashes I was riding with my ex, hopelessly lost in the middle of nowhere, on the way back from seeing "The Crow". He was driving ridiculously fast, careening around hairpin turns and barely staying on the road. I clutched the door handle, afraid. "Can you please slow down?", I whispered. He just glared. I remember being so afraid, wanting desperately to get out of the car but not knowing how to do so. Pretty much sums up the whole relationship.

Green Day's Good Riddance/Time of your Life I was sitting with Brandy and Robb at Snow Oasis, eating snowballs with marshmallow and loving the warm Baltimore evening; and I said "this is one of those songs that makes you feel like it's the soundtrack of your life. Like, I'll say 'I remember this part. This is when Brandy, Robb, and Amanda were sitting at Snow Oasis'." And I have, ever since.

The Entire Barenaked Ladies Live Album My first year in Cleveland! My roommate Sarah would say, almost every morning: "shall we have some barenaked chickadees?" And we'd put it on. God we had fun.

Anything by Gordon Lightfoot PANCAKES. Explanation: my Dad, on Sundays he was home, would make pancakes or waffles. He was the designated "breakfast maker" of the family. And for some reason, he always played Gordon Lightfoot albums while doing so. It became his way of informing the still-slumbering household that it was time to get up--pancakes were a-cookin'! He still does it when I visit. And if I hear a Gordon Lightfoot song in any other context, I experience unbearable pancake cravings. I'm all Pavlovian like that.

Lots of miscellaneous crappy soft rock songs Driving to or from dog shows with my mother. She always played this damn soft rock station. And sang along. BADLY. But it was interesting to watch how the experience of taking part in a hobby that didn't involve my father helped her grow as a person. I remember when we first started going, she was such a timid driver. She'd say: "Be QUIET, I have to MERGE!!!" in these horribly panicked tones of voice. Now, she drives a motorhome the size of a Greyhound bus. And yells obscenities to people who get in her way.

Anything by Hooverphonic When Sean and I first started dating and would listen to them while we "hung out" (ahem) at his place. He demonstrated his mad clandestine belt removal skillz at some point therein.

Pearl Jam's Last Kiss, or Santana's Smooth These song were OFP (that'd be OverFuckingPlayed) the summer I went to the Cape with my boyfriend at the time. So, they always make me think of ice cream, sea grass, and warm sun.

Madonna's Like a Virgin We used to play it at ALL the slumber parties. My parents used to play it for me anytime anything went wrong. They played it when my cat died. So now, I think of slumber parties and dead cats. Which always leads to thoughts of Mandy Guy showing us how her dog licked her hoohaw at her slumber party. Eww. Slumber parties, dead cats, and Mandy Guy's hoohaw. I never need to hear that song again.

Ahh, that was but a sprinkling.

No comments: