Wednesday, January 27, 2010

I Want To Listen...

I need something to get me though the darkness that keeps coming at me like freight train, something to work with me against these winds as they cut through my skin and sneak in all the parts I unknowingly left exposed. The kids want to play outside, I want to drink myself to sleep and wake up when it's spring.

Past cold as fuck listening:

Concrete Blonde - Free: I still have the rectangular cover CDs used to come in.
Help Me (I used to know the truth from a lie just by looking in their eyes)
Run Run Run (run run run)
Happy Birthday (how much longer, how much more?)
Little Conversations (there's never time enough)

R.E.M. - Automatic For The People: Lost on a Friday night, walking through the snow, heartbroken for no real reason. Find The River always reminded me of a John Denver song my mom used to listen to.
Try Not To Breathe (These are the eyes that I want you to remember)
Find The River (This life has passed before my eyes... I've got to leave to find my way)
Nightswimming (The photograph on the dashboard taken years ago, turn around backwards so the windshield shows)

Sarah Harmer - All Of Our Names: Taking Tuesdays off to stay home with my baby girl. The old house got so cold but you warmed my heart. We could see the lights across the city on winter nights.
Pendulums (the distant lights are twinkling, it means there is a wind)
Almost (you left an impression long after you'd gone... marks only I can see)
New Enemy (we're waiving our white flags)
Silver Road (had you been thinking that you were all alone while I still thought of you?)

I need something new.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

For those of you who thought you'd be forgotten...

I don't know exactly when a memory is formed. Sometimes I'll be traveling somewhere, listening to something I've listened to many times before, and I'll think "I'm going to remember this every time I hear this song" - and I will. Other times it's less direct and I don't know when my brain drops that aural bread crumb.

I also don't know why I felt the need to start a blog to write it down. Generally hearing a song will bring almost everything back to me, but I might be worried about things getting a bit foggy.

My grandmother has Alzheimer's and she doesn't remember much anymore. I don't know what the use of living so long and acquiring so many memories is if one day they'll all be wiped out. Thinking that one day I might not remember what it was like to look into my daughter's eyes while I held her minutes after she was born terrifies me. I do wonder, though, if that ever happens, many, many years from now, if something will come alive if I hear She And Him's first album. Will I remember walking across John Street, holding my daughter's hand, on the way to the record store to buy it? Will I remember the first time I heard her sweet voice coming from the back seat, singing "For those of you who thought you'd be forgotten..."? I can only hope so. I guess I can hope for that, at the very least.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Cottage Cheese

Sean Cullen had a radio show on CBC Radio One for the past couple summers and part of it was a feature called "Cottage Cheese", where he'd play cheesy music that people often tend to listen to in the summer - I guess while at the cottage or vacationing. I don't know if this is a particularly Canadian phenomenon but I can attest to it's existence. A couple of years ago I made a compilation for my sister's birthday that contains such gems as "Valerie" by Steve Winwood and "Paperlate" by Genesis. We both truly like these songs but in the absence of warm sunshine, a lake up north or a summer bbq, we probably wouldn't listen to them. Not having been brought up with the same summer vacation rituals as we were, our significant others often have to suffer through the "While You See A Chance" and "Invisible Touch" and get down right testy after more than a couple listens. I can't blame them. Sure, Madonna's "Holiday" will take me back to the mid 80's and I'm cool with that once and awhile, but on regular rotation I'd go nuts. We all don't share the same memories when we hear songs, but it's sometimes interesting to hear where songs take other people.