A time to think about stuff..and Ny-quil helps a bunch!
Hey there,
All was well until my sinuses slammed shut and I realized that going to hear music tonight was NOT going to happen. Music and memory. Tonight is one of those nights where I am listening to a mix CD that I made for someone else. While the songs have a certain relevance to the person I gave it to, it is, upon further listening, a very selfish mix. All of these songs, save one or two, have vivid memories of my life attached to them.
Tonight is a wonderful summer evening. I mean, it’s fucking perfect! I went out and about and had a good day, running into a few acquaintances and meeting up with my friend Tamara for a couple of beers. But as twilight turned to night and I relax alone at home (all the while gorging myself on zinc lozenges), I placed this CD on the player. I think part of it is that I wish I could miracle the friends with whom I experienced this music here to my empty living room because it IS a perfect night (with the minor exception of my stuffy nose and excessive kleenex use). And that is what these songs are to me; perfection. Not musically of course (although some come close), but perfection in the sense that these songs remind you of a time of total peace and happiness.
Now, I know what you are thinking: John’s getting older and waxing nostalgic about his youth. To an extent this is true (time IS linear as far as we know), but these particular songs are special in the fact that the people and incidents I associate them with are very distinct and not regulated to my frequently misspent youth. It’s not like listening to a Springsteen record and remembering when you were young and pissed off at the system. It’s not like hearing Def Leppard and remembering, vaguely, every high school party you went to, and it’s not like remembering that Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” was playing when you saw the Challenger shuttle blow up.
No, associations regarding these songs are as specific to me as they are seemingly random to the uninformed listener. If my best friend Sam were to hear “Copperline” by James Taylor while having a beer with me, he would never know that I am magically transported to a crab feast in Norfolk, Virginia in my dear friend Katie’s backyard. Regardless of how I relate the story to him, there is no way that the song will convey the salty smell of the Elizabeth River or slimy hands covered in Old Bay that continue to pick away for the crab’s succulent back fin. I’ll never be able to listen to Dylan‘s “You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go” without thinking of that moment in time with Sue, just as hearing “Redemption Song” by Bob Marley will make me start laughing and think of Paul, Johanna, and Eric half a world away.
I hear “Bellbottom Blues” by Clapton but all I see is a very drunk Genevieve still managing to pull it off wonderfully (a much better voice than Clapton…although her guitar playing left something to be desired). Robin Ford’s “Misdirected Blues” will remind me of a long lost friend and fellow waiter Rich Wylie, when we snuck into the Birchmere and caught the show. The 7th Inning stretch is never the same after hearing Joel and Sam play “Take me out to the Ballgame” on a warm spring morning on Joel’s porch in Winston-Salem.
As I am alone this evening, some of these memories are, thankfully, intensely personal. Some of the songs remind me of lonely times in my life where a certain song just fit my mood, the day, or the moment (not in a bad way). To try and explain such things as they relate to me would be an exercise in futility but I am sure that anyone who reads this is well aware of the power of music in their lives. Keep in mind friends, that these memories are chaste and cognizant. There’s no self-indulgent (or self-loathing depending on your perspective) “our song” bullshit or drunken/stoned/tripping “that one Dead Show where I totally hooked up with ****** during “Stella Blue” crap. When I hear a certain tune, it brings me to a place not of dreaming but of actually remembering every sensory impulse that happened during that episode.
In a way, this IS nostalgic, as often, we can’t remember anything more about those times in question except that singular feeling of perfection. And, in all honesty, what’s really wrong with that? What about the rest of the crab feast? What about the rest of my time in Georgia? What ever happened to Genny? Is Joel still saving the world (or at least the odd heart patient); one stent at a time? As far as those temporal questions go, who really gives a shit? (For example, I know that hearing “Copperline” does not erase fights Katie and I have had, or that we lost contact with one another for 6 years). I really just want Katie, Sam, Joel, Johanna, Paulie, Eric, Genny, Richard, and Sue in my living room right now. Surely, we’d have a few beers, catch up, laugh our asses off, play and sing some tunes. I’m sure I would most likely find another song during the course of that evening, that would, like original packaging on any vintage action figure, preserve that perfect place in time. At least in my warped, convoluted mind.
Peace,
John
All was well until my sinuses slammed shut and I realized that going to hear music tonight was NOT going to happen. Music and memory. Tonight is one of those nights where I am listening to a mix CD that I made for someone else. While the songs have a certain relevance to the person I gave it to, it is, upon further listening, a very selfish mix. All of these songs, save one or two, have vivid memories of my life attached to them.
Tonight is a wonderful summer evening. I mean, it’s fucking perfect! I went out and about and had a good day, running into a few acquaintances and meeting up with my friend Tamara for a couple of beers. But as twilight turned to night and I relax alone at home (all the while gorging myself on zinc lozenges), I placed this CD on the player. I think part of it is that I wish I could miracle the friends with whom I experienced this music here to my empty living room because it IS a perfect night (with the minor exception of my stuffy nose and excessive kleenex use). And that is what these songs are to me; perfection. Not musically of course (although some come close), but perfection in the sense that these songs remind you of a time of total peace and happiness.
Now, I know what you are thinking: John’s getting older and waxing nostalgic about his youth. To an extent this is true (time IS linear as far as we know), but these particular songs are special in the fact that the people and incidents I associate them with are very distinct and not regulated to my frequently misspent youth. It’s not like listening to a Springsteen record and remembering when you were young and pissed off at the system. It’s not like hearing Def Leppard and remembering, vaguely, every high school party you went to, and it’s not like remembering that Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” was playing when you saw the Challenger shuttle blow up.
No, associations regarding these songs are as specific to me as they are seemingly random to the uninformed listener. If my best friend Sam were to hear “Copperline” by James Taylor while having a beer with me, he would never know that I am magically transported to a crab feast in Norfolk, Virginia in my dear friend Katie’s backyard. Regardless of how I relate the story to him, there is no way that the song will convey the salty smell of the Elizabeth River or slimy hands covered in Old Bay that continue to pick away for the crab’s succulent back fin. I’ll never be able to listen to Dylan‘s “You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go” without thinking of that moment in time with Sue, just as hearing “Redemption Song” by Bob Marley will make me start laughing and think of Paul, Johanna, and Eric half a world away.
I hear “Bellbottom Blues” by Clapton but all I see is a very drunk Genevieve still managing to pull it off wonderfully (a much better voice than Clapton…although her guitar playing left something to be desired). Robin Ford’s “Misdirected Blues” will remind me of a long lost friend and fellow waiter Rich Wylie, when we snuck into the Birchmere and caught the show. The 7th Inning stretch is never the same after hearing Joel and Sam play “Take me out to the Ballgame” on a warm spring morning on Joel’s porch in Winston-Salem.
As I am alone this evening, some of these memories are, thankfully, intensely personal. Some of the songs remind me of lonely times in my life where a certain song just fit my mood, the day, or the moment (not in a bad way). To try and explain such things as they relate to me would be an exercise in futility but I am sure that anyone who reads this is well aware of the power of music in their lives. Keep in mind friends, that these memories are chaste and cognizant. There’s no self-indulgent (or self-loathing depending on your perspective) “our song” bullshit or drunken/stoned/tripping “that one Dead Show where I totally hooked up with ****** during “Stella Blue” crap. When I hear a certain tune, it brings me to a place not of dreaming but of actually remembering every sensory impulse that happened during that episode.
In a way, this IS nostalgic, as often, we can’t remember anything more about those times in question except that singular feeling of perfection. And, in all honesty, what’s really wrong with that? What about the rest of the crab feast? What about the rest of my time in Georgia? What ever happened to Genny? Is Joel still saving the world (or at least the odd heart patient); one stent at a time? As far as those temporal questions go, who really gives a shit? (For example, I know that hearing “Copperline” does not erase fights Katie and I have had, or that we lost contact with one another for 6 years). I really just want Katie, Sam, Joel, Johanna, Paulie, Eric, Genny, Richard, and Sue in my living room right now. Surely, we’d have a few beers, catch up, laugh our asses off, play and sing some tunes. I’m sure I would most likely find another song during the course of that evening, that would, like original packaging on any vintage action figure, preserve that perfect place in time. At least in my warped, convoluted mind.
Peace,
John
posted by john at 11:26 PM
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