The memories that flood back ‘In Between Dreams’
I’m finding that there’s not much to do at work these days, as I flit between projects that are stalled pending a decision being made by the higher-ups. So, naturally, that means I take an inordinate number of breaks and do pointless things like read everything the internet has to offer about NHL hockey.1 Fortunately, while I’m reading I can also listen to music on Grooveshark, which has this handy feature that lets you listen to only the popular songs, as picked by its users. Even more fortunately, Grooveshark’s users aren’t all upper-middle class hipsters, so much of this music is tolerable.
What I find interesting about the ‘popular’ list, though, is the number of songs present that aren’t currently on the radio.2 Because of this, I know that Led Zeppelin and ACDC are still popular with the kids these days, and that Mumford & Sons is a band rather than a family law firm.3 More surprisingly, though, I found that Jack Johnson’s ‘In Between Dreams’ album is still quite popular – to my great delight.
This album wasn’t the first CD I bought or anything like that, but it is easily the most meaningful music in my life. It was pretty much the only English music I listened to during my first couple of months of my exchange in France, and every time I hear a song from the record it brings back memories – some good and some not as good. By the time I came back from France, I knew the lyrics to pretty much every song and it had become a part of my life to the extent that I blew twenty bucks on a wall-sized poster of Mr. Johnson.4
Hearing these songs five years later and having such strong memories made me think about how powerful music is as an anchor in my life. I can go years without hearing a song, but the instant the opening chords hit my ears, I can recall everything around me when I first heard the song. The smell of the kebab stand next to the lusciously green park I was sitting in; how I didn’t care that the cute brunette sitting next to me mangled the pronunciation when she found out what we were listening to “Chak Chonson”; and the cultural bridge that the song ‘Belle’ provided as my first host mother and I sang along during a five-hour car ride to Paris.5
Music can be startlingly beautiful or complete crap, but it is always an emotional experience – and my emotional attachment to songs like ‘Banana Pancakes’ is not likely to fade any time soon. It’s really the only thing that truly has the ability to cross every barrier and yet remain a very personal experience. My nostalgia for an entire country is in many ways encompassed in the music of a man who lives half a world from either party in the relationship.
What music fuels your memories?
1. Spoiler alert: In the middle of July, there’s not much.
2. In hindsight, I probably should have figured this was the case: If auto-tuned pop candy is your thing, why bother with the Internet when you could just turn on a radio?
3. By now you should know that I can’t pass up the opportunity to shamelessly plug one of my (current) favourite bands. If you haven’t heard them already, I won’t choke you with a noose around your neck but rather simply request that you give them a shot as soon as you have a chance. If you have heard of them, you probably caught (and groaned at) that reference.
4. My roommate had by that time gotten used to my tendency to go overboard and just rolled his eyes. Years later, when I was one of his groomsmen, I found out that I hadn’t hung it properly, and that he had actually had to re-attach it on several occasions. Mr. Johnson, I’m sure, is as appreciative as I am.
5. I found out later that the French have a guilty obsession with English music – probably because their own isn’t that good and so the ability to sing along with English songs makes one ‘tres chic’ – and that my host mother had been bragging to her friends about learning an English song. Cheater.
