There are many things that can trigger a memory. Photographs, certain scents, or someone telling a related story can all jog a memory and take you back to a specific moment from your past. They can be big moments or small, whichever it is, that trigger just brings you back. And a song can be a trigger for me.
This week, I thought I’d list five songs that bring five moments from my past to mind every time I hear them. None of the moments are particularly big. Most are small, everyday sorts of occurrences that just add texture to life. Two of the songs are by Paul McCartney. I’m not sure why, it just worked out that way.
Writer’s note: Click on the headers to be linked to the songs.
This may be the smallest moment I’ll discuss. As I recall, it took place during the summer of 1973 or 1974. In those days, when my siblings and I would suggest our parents buy a dishwasher, Dad would say, “Why? I already have four of them.”
He, of course, was referring to us kids. There were four of us and we were tasked with the chore of washing the dishes. Each kid would get the washing up duties for a week. The moment that comes back to me happened during one of my weeks. And it is so mundane, you may find it underwhelming, but I’m sharing anyway.
One of our perks when doing the dishes was to be allowed to listen to music on the radio. Not too loud!
My Love was a new song at the time. What I think of now whenever I hear that song is me standing at the sink, washing dishes, looking out the kitchen window at the neighbor’s house, listening to Paul singing, “Whoa whoa-whoa whoooa.”
Probably during that same summer as the My Love moment, this excellent song brings me back to playing in a sand pile behind a strip mall near where my parents still live today. Right across the street from the house was an empty lot, in which we kids spent much of our spare time, on the other side of the lot was that strip mall.
I don’t recall why there was a pile of sand there, but what kid could resist making use of it? A group of us kids were digging through it for hours. Someone must have a transistor radio with them, because Band On The Run was playing.
To this day, that fantastic opening guitar riff brings me right back to that sand pile.
This moment is the summer of 1982. My best friend Greg and I were enjoying our summer between junior and senior year. Greg had his driver’s license and he had pretty much taken over his mother’s Chevy Laguna as his car. And, since it was his car, he needed to make certain the stereo was capable of producing the proper volume level any respectable 16 or 17 year old would require.
He rigged up that Laguna so that the back seat and window space were crammed with speakers. He had seven speakers back there. Some weren’t even car speakers, at least two of them were from his home stereo. He also got his hands, I don’t know how, on an old football stadium style PA speaker. He ran everything through a powerful equalizer and the volume he achieved was impressive. My left ear is still ringing.
The song that became our theme for that summer was that hit by the 80s super-group Asia. Which we played again and again, so very loudly.
This moment is difficult to nail down to a specific time. It happened when I was in art school. I attended the School of Associated Arts (it was renamed College of Visual Arts in 1989 and closed its doors in June, 2013) starting in the fall of 1983 and graduating in spring 1986. The school was located on the historic Summit Avenue, an avenue in St. Paul, MN filled with old mansions from the days when Minnesota’s wealthiest citizens took up residence in the capital city. Railroad tycoon James J Hill’s mansion is just down the block from the school.
The picturesque Summit Avenue is located on a hill that overlooks downtown St. Paul, where the hoi polloi lived and worked and where the bus would drop me off and pick me up. On the days when I didn’t get a ride, I would bus it in and back. And I would have to walk up and down that hill. There was a long set of stairs, running right alongside the James J Hill House, that meandered its way to and from Summit Avenue. I’m not sure if it’s still there.
That was quite a beautiful yet tiring climb in the morning. I was so thankful for the few stretches in which the path leveled out for a time. I was also thankful for my Sony Walkman (remember those?), which set the mood for the climb. Pilgrimage has somehow become the song that reminds me of that walk on those stairs.
A nice song for a nice, if exhausting, walk.
In the mid-90s I worked, very briefly, as a staff artist for a little start-up multi-media publishing company. The friends I made there really liked Neil Young’s 1992 album Harvest Moon. Now, it’s not that I wasn’t a fan of Young’s music. I liked and appreciated much of his art. I just enjoyed poking fun at the way he sings. I would take to imitating the yowl of a cat as I “sang” along with the 60’s radical.
Well, the company wasn’t taking off as the investors had hoped and they stopped funding it and we all lost our jobs.
Some weeks or months later, while throwing back a few brews with some other friends, the jukebox played Unknown Legend. I took immediate notice and was transported back to that workplace. My reaction must have been awfully obvious, because my friends asked if I was OK.
I hadn’t started blubbering or anything like that. I had just gotten very quiet. I told them I was remembering some friends I hadn’t seen in a while.
Surely, you have a song or two (or a thousand) that take you back to moments in time. Share some in the comments if you like.
Feel free to comment and share.
Images used under Fair Use.