Sing Me A Song

I’ve been thinking lately a lot about the connections between music, memory, and love. A gift that I’ve always valued is a gift of music. I appreciate, more than I appreciate a lot of things, someone taking the time to contrive a playlist that they feel I would enjoy. It could be songs that follow the evolution of a relationship, it could be a CD of songs with lyrics describing how you feel about the recipient. It could even just be a hodge-podge of musical expression that for no explicable reason, makes you think of a
particular person.

I smile when I hear certain songs. I hear Mazzy Star and I remember the thrill and the tingle of one of the greatest loves of my life holding me in his arms and kissing me catching me by surprise because I thought he wasn’t interested. I smile again when I hear What Would Happen (If We Kissed) by Meredith Brooks because I listened to that song and daydreamed about the very kiss I got during Mazzy Star’s Fade Into You. Selfless, Cold & Composed by Ben Folds Five played on repeat at the end of that relationship and I still think of him when it comes on.

When someone mentions the band They Might Be Giants, I remember a mixed CD I received about five years ago and while I couldn’t recall which specific song was on the CD by them (at least not until recently), I knew it was on that disc and I thought of the maker of the CD with a smile and a tug at my heart.

I crashed into my high school sweetheart during a Zebrahead concert and his face is in my head the moment any of their songs play. I hear George Strait’s version of Fly Me To The Moon and instead of George Strait’s voice, I hear my ex singing it to me as we drove down the freeway together.

All of these songs are so linked in my mind to these memories that I can’t listen to them without a jolt and a reminder of the people I’ve loved and still love. It isn’t just love, either.

Baby, Got Back, that ever popular song, was huge when I was growing up and I can’t help but laugh at the memories of my childhood best friend and I listening to the radio non-stop, trying to get our tape recorder to catch that intro, “Oh. My. God. Becky. Look at her butt…”

In college, I was a good gym attendee and when my gym buddy and I returned to our dorm, we’d pick a room and blast Easy E while jumping around with hairbrushes and making obscene movements to go with the equally offensive, but oh so fun, lyrics. Even my hated college roommate and I had good memories involving hairbrush microphones and some Shoop by Salt N’ Pepa.

That instantaneous burst of memory that comes with a song will never cease to amaze me.


2 thoughts on “Sing Me A Song

  1. I do the exact same thing.
    Songs have such strong memories attached to them for me. Some I can not even listen to any more because of things I do not wish to remember. I love music and the way
    it makes me feel, but nothing beats hearing a song and conjuring up a sweet memory of when you first heard it or what momentous thing you were doing when that song was
    playing. Those memories are forever imprinted and intertwined with those lyrics and melody.

  2. Vegas- They do have strong memories attached, don’t they? I can’t even list the entire list of songs that strike a chord for me.

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