The DJ of our life is that man in our mind—I think he is Jonny Mambo’s great-uncle—who takes a memory and pairs it with a song from our mental Rhapsody player. He also works in reverse. He can take a song and run to the stacks of our life memories and pull out a day that fits the song. It’s an acoustic rhorschach. For me the exercise goes like this:
I hear “Itchycoo Park” and I remember sitting on my mother’s lap at the dining room table in the morning before heading to montessori.
I hear, “My Old Kentucky Home” and I remember standing at the Kentucky Derby, the first one after my mom died, and watching my dad brush a tear from his eye with his handkerchief.
I hear “Strange Magic” and I remember making out in the backseat of a parked sedan while another couple made out in the front seat.
Inevitably, the association evokes an emotion, and so the full reaction plays out:
The Small Faces' "Itchycoo Park"—Mom’s lap—filial love
ELO's "Strange Magic"—parked sedan—young passion
Stephen Foster’s "My Old Ky Home"—Dad’s handkerchief—loss
Gin Blossoms' "Follow You Down"—Phoenix hotel clock radio –ironically, excitement about moving to a city where I was not following anyone
Steve Earle's "You’re Still Standing There"—missing someone while driving a rental car in Nashville--achingly smitten
For some songs I can also layer on a specific sense:
The sax of "Bahia"—a lover’s apartment –lusting full tilt—the smell of garlic sauteing with onions
Over the years friends have shared their acoustic memories with me. One told me the song he heard on the road in his car the moment he found out on his cell phone that his child had Down Syndrome.
What’s playing on your station today?
She gets rock n’ roll in a rock n’ roll station for a rock n’ roll dream/ She’s making movies on location/She don’t know what it means/ But the music make her wanna be the story/And the story was whatever was the song/What it was/ Roller girl, don’t worry/D.J. play the movies all night long
Mark Knopfler, "Skateaway"
That is very nice of you
ReplyDeleteHeather, I loved your blog and the pictures. Here are a few of my memories.Susan
ReplyDeleteStanding on a moor in Ireland at midnight feeling the earth below my feet rumble as a train thundered out of the darkness towards us. This memory can be immediately conjured by hearing "I'm On Fire" by Bruce Springsteen.
At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet/
And a freight train running through the
Middle of my head/
Only you can cool my desire/
Im on fire/
Johnny Cash singing Folsom Prison Blues will always remind me of flying down a two lane highway across the front range and through towns named Wild Horse and Kit Carson. Floating on the horizon like a cloud, sat Pike's Peak.
“Farther down the line /
Far from Folsom Prison /
That's where I long to stay /
And I'd let that lonesome whistle /
Blow out my blues away.”
“He went to Paris” by Jimmy Buffet instantly reminds me of meeting my friend David in Italy and traveling together though Switzerland and France where he was living. He never really came back, and now Russia his home.
He went to Paris lookin’ for answers/
To questions that bothered him so/
He was impressive, young and aggressive/
Savin’ the world on his own/
There are so many musical reminders for my summer in Appalachia . It is true what they say; the mountains are full of music. Miss Peggy singing Amazing Grace from the porch of her tar paper house. Pure magic. Ronnie singing “See the bright Light Shine”, in the back of the van, in a voice barley audible over the roar of the engines. I sang this to my babies. Hank Williams JR singing "Family Tradition". A pretty funny theme song for a bunch of earnest do-gooder college kids who were only intoxicated by the idea of saving the world.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
See the bright light shine /It's just about home-time/ I can see my daddy standing at the door/ Well, this world's been a wilderness/ and thank god for deliverance/ for I have never been this homesick before/
So don't ask me Hank why do you drink?
Hank, why do roll smoke?
Why must you live out the songs that you wrote?
Stop and think it over, try and put yourself in my unique position. If I get stoned and sing all night long, its a family tradition!