Aural History

I assume everyone experiences musically-triggered flashbacks. A visceral time travel experience that takes no thought, just a feeling. Usually it is a specific album that transports me: I hear something (though it’s rare) from Talking Heads “Speaking in Tongues” and I am back in middle school, reading V.C. Andrews books. OMD “Crush” and I am sunbathing in the backyard in high school. Any New Order album and, you got it, in my bedroom suffering from moody adolescence.

Music used to be much more precious to me – I really gave a lot of thought to what I would spend money on. I have fond memories of getting in the car with my brother if he was home from school, and going to Fox & Sutherland to shop for a new album. (pretty much any memory of the glow of my brother’s attention and a ride in his car = unparalleled nostalgia)

A few weeks ago, I heard “Ocean Man” by Ween, and it slammed me with a memory. Neither Paul or I had any particular thing for Ween, but it was the soundtrack to a trailer for the ski movie G.N.A.R. about an unofficial competition at Squaw Mountain (NSFW, in case you’re interested) and it had led to a very WikiPaulia-esque tale about the band, and of course the iconic cover art of the album Chocolate and Cheese.

Those who knew Paul know that his taste in music was broad, and his knowledge extensive. The music library I have inherited is utterly intimidating, especially without him to explain to me why he downloaded it, what were the musical influences and band history of the artist, and where he came across it (and at what wee hour of the morning). Many of his stories included anecdotes about buying a drink for a band member when he saw them at the bar, or chatting with one after a show, or how another was a drunken asshole. He had a minor penpal relationship with Robyn Hitchcock. Suffice it to say, his passion for it was intense. I told him at one point that we had a project in my office for a couple that were really into music, so much so that the project title includes the name Big Star. By the next day I had an entire playlist and lengthy education on the evolution of power pop.

I’ll get to the point. I have a lot of Paul memories that are triggered by music. I remember phases he went through, like all Sufjan Stevens all the time when we were living in San Francisco, TV on the Radio when their earlier albums came out, a somewhat surprising overplaying of Daft Punk, and of course I can’t forget about the band that only wrote songs about the game of cricket. (the Duckworth Lewis Method. Check it out.) He made playlists that I will associate with road trips to Tahoe, or our wedding, or just because it was a new year. The Grateful Dead, the Beatles, Neil Young and other classic mainstays were part of the constant soundtrack of our home.

I prefer to have music on when I am home, but a lot of times I just don’t know what to play anymore.