A musical scavenger hunt from the early 1990's.
It seems like ages ago, but I wrote an article about rediscovering some music that was important to me at some critical moment in my life. Music is possibly one of the most evocative things there is, triggering a chain of memories; some good, some bad, some things gone for ever. We also have a tendency to rewrite that history, as well; or, more embarrassingly, try to avoid it at all costs. It's exceptionally difficult to avoid a whole few years' worth of music, just in case it makes me think of her. Once I start idly listening to streaming audio off the Internet, it's impossible. I will run into that song eventually. You know the one. Our special song. The one that was playing, the first time we were together; when the fever took hold. The time I realized, this was it, this was the one.
A chain reaction starts in my head. I think to what else I've tried to seal away; any other significant moments we spent together, what was playing at that time. That message to my girl, where I finally told you how I felt. The track list on that mix tape you gave me, the one I gave to you; I'd pushed them to the back of your mind. It's still there, almost engraved on my consciousness. I Google and search, I find every last one of those tracks, even the obscure ones. The tracks from bands who disappeared forever after their first album have been digitally preserved, frozen in time. Dare I listen? Should I? Can I treat it as just music? Didn't I pretty much reinvent my musical tastes to avoid this kind of thing?
The soap opera plays on, projected onto my addled brain; more pivotal moments come into sharp focus. You explained it away; this wasn't anything special, we're both made of nothing more than quarks. Strangeness and charm. That first humdinger argument, the one that had us both throwing around empty threats, the one that didn't upset you, because you knew we'd be making up within the hour. Meeting each other's families, how fraught was that? Your folks liked me; they trusted me. That must have been enough to convince you I couldn't be right. I know Dad liked you; in fact, he probably liked you a bit too much. He spent far too much of that day staring at your bottom and reminding me I had fifty percent of his genetic material. Mom was Mom; she didn't say anything one way or the other. Played the perfect hostess, and never said a thing. I think you reminded her of her at that age; she looked at me with that despairing look that reminded me, yes, you have fifty percent of your father's genetic material. And then there's Nan, sitting in the corner, utterly blind. She knew. She grabbed me by the arm with an impressive grip and told me. She's not right for you. I can see it in her eyes. The blind matriarch could somehow see it in your hungry eyes. This fully-sighted young man could not.
The track list plays on, seemingly moving through curious chord progressions I'd never noticed before. Majors become sevenths, then ecstatic augmented power chords. Then a hit of a minor key; maybe even the odd diminished here and there. How strange the change from major to minor. I reach the end of the list and reach for the mouse quickly. I have to hit stop before we start at the top again and go around one more time. Once is enough. There's a couple more songs, missing from the list; in fact, they won't be on any list I know of. The ones I wrote; the ones I played in that terrible band. The one that I more shouted than sung, with more than just a hint of venom, to college halls filled with uncritical drunks. The other one, that I kept for myself, explaining this away. It would never have worked. We were fire and water. Both of us fixed, interpersonal. You were the sun, and I couldn't have been further away. An astronomical distance, in fact. Or was it astrological? We had our doubts. I tried to convince myself, don't dream it's over.
I click on, looking for something from afterwards, some closure, something to lift my mind out of this supposedly-wretched time. It wasn't that wretched, after all. The bad has long gone, but the good is still there. We learnt a lot from each other. I could have learnt more about womankind from you. Burned by fire once, I'd proceed to get burned again; of course we do. And again. Finally I end my daydreaming, and come home. I wonder if that song is still around somewhere? Perhaps it's in that trunk of my personal belongings, that veritable Pandora's Box of things I'd left behind from a previous life, things I'd forgotten were in there. Including pictures of you. For some reason one more song comes into my head; a song from the moment that I finally left your world behind, and moved to the world I'm in now.
But when I look at you you're forgiven.
You're forgiven.
I'll forgive. But I'll never forget.
What were the ten songs on the tape? All but one of the titles are hidden in here (the other is a dead giveaway). Look forward to any guesses, and will make a note of the first person who gets each one right. Some of them have been embedded pretty wickedly, so you might want to tweet me for clues.
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