One of the best investments we made while traveling was a Spotify subscription (see what else we couldn’t do without here). Road trips require music, and Spotify provided our soundtrack to the USA.
We rolled across the country in a pure time warp – one heavy on the 90s grunge, pop and not-so-gangsta rap (Will Smith, yo). Listening to tracks that I hadn’t heard in years stirred up all sorts of memories, reminding me how powerfully evocative music can be, and how strongly I associate some songs with certain people or periods of time.
The soundtrack to my life would have to include:
Recall: Long hours lying on my bed, caught up in the rapture that is John Frusciante’s effortless golden licks and Anthony Kiedis’ smooth vocals, combined into one sublime package.
Inextricably linked with Year 8 school camp – forest walks, French toast, canned spaghetti and evening team games.
Basically sums up every one of my childhood crushes ever.
So I look in your direction/but you pay me no attention/do you?
The perfect song to listen to on repeat when trying to get over one of those painful crushes.
My ex introduced me to Blue Oyster Cult, for which I am very grateful. (And T introduced me to this related SNL skit, which is entertaining in a stupid, slapstick way.)
One of my good friends back in the early years of high school and I bonded over our love of music. She adored both of these songs, and everytime I hear either track, she instantly springs to mind. She was a performer, while I was more of a supporting act. I was so shy that when we were discussing ideas for what we could do for the school talent quest, I couldn’t even play the song I’d written in front of her. I recorded it at home, handed her the CD the next day, and then basically ran in the opposite direction. (She liked it, we played it, and it was freaking magic, if I say so myself.)
Calls to mind another of my good high school friends (whom I would dearly like to reconnect with; alas the friendship failed to survive the tumult of teenage hormones, jealousy, and general boy-girl related misery. Friendships of the opposite sex can work marvellously – but this crashed and burned spectacularly). In particular, one text message: ‘What the fuck is even flow about. Don’t get it’. Because that’s the kind of text we used to send each other.
One of my best friends is big on Pearl Jam, though I couldn’t say why I associate Black in particular with him. But damn if this isn’t as close to a perfect song as you can get. The subtle guitar work. Vedder’s tortured voice. That final line: ‘I know you’ll be a star in somebody else’s sky/But why, why, why can’t it be, can’t it be mine?’ gets me every single time. (Smooth is also pretty close to perfection, though I think it’s a little too abstract.)
The song T and I listened to non-stop (for some inexplicable reason, we just couldn’t get enough of it) the summer we first started to spend time together.
Best movie love story ever. THAT IS ALL.
