First posted on Mark Is Cranky:
Yesterday, fellow Blogcritic Wally Bangs posted The Punk Rock Mid-Life Continues, a perfect illustration of the power that art (visual art, music or, in this case, books) can have on our memories.
This got me to thinking about something that I wrote a while back. My 'important' Records described several albums that had made an impression on me, partially because of their musical uniqueness...but mostly due to the particular circumstances surrounding the record's acquisition.
Well, I forgot one very 'important' record: Pete Townshend's Empty Glass. Ok, I didn't really 'forget' it. It's just that the attached memories were so intense and bittersweet that, at the time, I didn't have the strength to revisit them.
During my first year of college I discovered that a friend of mine (who was still in her last year at our high school) had developed an interest in me beyond 'just friends'. This kinda thing has always whacked me upside the head a little. Really? She does? Wow.
So me & Shelley had one of those romances that can only happen when you're young and, well, full of being young. We reveled in in being young, in music and in each other. One particular night I remember picking up a bunch of food and heading over to her house (this was back when I was in my gonna-be-chef phase). I cooked us a sort of Japanese beef on the grill thing. After that we spent the rest of the night blasting records and becoming more and more horizontal (don't ask me where her parents were...off on a trip somewhere I think).
I can't quite express what a match we were. Back then I was as much of a music geek as I am now. The fact that some of her favorite records were The Who's The Kids Are Alright and Who Are You just added to the seeming perfectness of the situation. So on that one night we played Pete Townshend's Empty Glass over and over and over. The 'mystery' of some of that album's lyrics were all over the rock press. "Rough Boys", "And I Moved"....what the heck was he talking about? This made no difference to me because the memories of that evening were chemically bonded to Townshend's music and words. What he was getting at was irrelevant as those sweet and perfect recollections took precedence.
Article comments
1 - Shark
Sound is almost as strong a motivator for old memories as odor or taste. (If Proust had grown up in the late 20th century, a madeleine dipped in tea would have been replaced by a song from the pop charts!)
I remember making out with a cute little babe during "Cherish" by The Association.
I can still hear that song and remember the very moment; the weather, her hands, her lips, and the odor of her hair.
"The Association."
Appropriate, yes?
(For the curious and vicariously inclined, I did get her to take off her bra.)
2 - Shark
re: "...odor of her hair."
"White Shoulders."
And mine would have been "Jade East".
Oy.
I hope she doesn't 'remember'.
3 - wally bangs
Delightful post, Mark. "Let My Love Open The Door" takes me back to my junior high roller rink days where skating so fast you were made to sit down was an honor among friends, but even better was making out with a girl in the corner which was public spectacle as all of your and her friends would make a wall so the adults couldn't see what was happening.
4 - Mark Saleski
tsk, tsk!
5 - Bob A. Booey
The Who sucks.
That is all.