Headphones

"I know this bar with a jukebox full of medicine...I know this song, with this one really killer line. I can't remember exactly, but it slays me every time." -Ani Difranco













It should come as no surprise to you that with a blog called Music Is Memory, that music acts as a primary organizing force in my life. In addition, due to the fact that my career requires me to spend hours upon hours at a computer in solitude, I spend many hours with music playing through my headphones. There is nothing I enjoy more than getting a new record or playing an old favorite through my headphones, while enjoying a beverage or two. In fact I could probably spend an entire day doing just that....wait, I think I have recently. If pressed, I'm pretty sure I could make a soundtrack for every phase of my life, every friend, every lover, and every road trip that I've ever had.

But for some reason, there were a couple of months at the end of last semester I forgot this. Somehow, I began spending far more time watching television and far less time listening to music. I'm not sure how it happened, but I do remember who reminded me of how much I absolutely love to just sit and listen. Navigating through playlists or youtube videos and enjoying the simple joy of discovery, to travel back through painful and happy memories...and sometimes turn it up so loud in your apartment that the sounds bellow out into the streets.

During a rather tumultuous "relationship" I had during the past couple of months, a man (to remain unnamed) reminded me. We shared a musical motif from the past. Songs, records, and bands that despite not knowing each other, we shared. Although Jawbreaker's 24 Hour Revenge Therapy meant different things to us, it was important that we had both grown up with it. We didn't have to do all the work of translation that happens when two individuals come from different musical motifs. And in a somewhat obsessive manner, we shared music with one another. Some days, we communicated primarily through song lyrics. Other days, he would come over and we'd lay on my couch, sharing headphones, listening to the music turned up as loud as possible-- recounting our memories of the songs and making some of our own memories to others.

And I realized how intimate it is to share music with someone, particularly by sharing the same set of headphones.

But then I started thinking about all the times I've shared music. Having friends located all around the world, there are many nights we find ourselves chatting, sharing youtube videos with one another...often going to the extreme, as my friend Amada and I have-- by synchronizing our listening by starting the song at the same time, while simultaneously typing out our favorite lyrics as the song plays.

More recently, at the height of the tumultuous "love affair" (I'm using quotes because exactly what it was has yet to become solidified in my mind), my friend Art came over to my house...and we laid on my living room floor and played Bright Eyes as loud as possible, while singing at the top of our lungs. Sometimes we got up to dance. Other times, we cried. And still other moments, we laughed hysterically.

Tonight, I spent a portion of my evening constructing a playlist for my dear neighbor Ashley, who is about to embark on an incredible journey that will land her in Wales for graduate school. She mentioned needing more "break-up songs" to help her break-up with the city of Nashville...and if there is anything I know, it is broody, sad songs. The kind of songs you can listen to, while soaking in all the sadness. Sometimes it is just necessary.

But I keep coming back to sharing those damn headphones. Lying next to one another on the couch, forced to stay close to keep the headphones in our ears, often with our eyes closed, just listening.

And now that things have ended, I'm left with the task of etching out my pain from an "exploitative situation" (see, I'm still not sure), by posting songs on my facebook wall that echo and resonate my dissatisfaction over the loss and emptiness. When I try to ask myself why I'm doing this? I suppose I'm still using music to share, to communicate, to write the words to the emotions I'm not sure how to name. But maybe more importantly, to demonstrate the impact it had on me, like a bruise that still hasn't quite faded.

All of this has reminded me of just how many of my memories and emotions I pack into music. Songs that once reminded me of a past situation have become reconstructed, with multiple memories embedded into just that one song.

"And if the sound of this it frightens you, we could play it real cool, and act somewhat indifferent." -Cracker

Furthermore, I found evidence of this power tonight when I came across a show that All Songs Considered recently podcasted. It is called "Cry Baby Cry: Songs That Make You Weep" (and you can listen to it here). Listening to both Bob and Robin recount their own memories attached to songs, as well as stories from listeners, was heartbreaking, even if at times it felt like Casey Kasem's long distance dedications.

So, there you have it.

And here is a video for you that resonates at the moment...