I'm not talking
lyrics that best say what I'm trying to say
I'm talking the songs
that are playing as you
walk down the street, slip and fall in the shower
, eat breakfast. And I have tried
to pinpoint this, I have tried to narrow it down
and define the music that best serves as a backdrop
and mirror to my life. I can't.
This isn't because of the way my moods are constantly
changing, (and they are, fluctuating and peaking and
falling). No, it's not only about the flux and range
in emotions but the pieces of a composite whole that
comprise my orchestral score.
Here, see?, there's Tubthumping with
Chumbawamba and it's hot, summer, and I'm longing to
go swimming and move out of my parents' house already.
And then it's Waterfalls, and steamy warm rain and I'm
even younger, tired in a cramped Florida apartment and
trying to stay sane.
Now there's Escape, Steps,
MOVING, and I'm running down the piers along the
Hudson River, and getting lost somewhere in Chinatown
and there is September and oh, Yanni, I am on a
bus or plane or train to somewhere far away and
it feels like deep blue music that will somehow let me
All of them, and more, and less, Sex Bomb brings back
skies and a beautiful boy who was capable of hurting
lots more than we'd imagined, and there are sunny days
and the gas tank
full and hot nights, cold nights, trains and beds and
Music, a soundtrack, oh. It's all about
transportation of self and transformation and sensory
triggers and pheremones and knee-jerk reactions, it's
the greasy-haired bachelor who keeps hitting on you and
the daisies that died when you picked them and the
stray cat that followed you home. When you try to get
it down, it's nothing to listen to, just some memories.
A soundtrack to my life, any life, to be consistent
and true to the source has to take years into
account, time and place and then people;
colors and foods and then jobs; cars and mail and
weather. A soundtrack to a life is so intense and
complicated a score, it's overwhelming and powerful,
and if at all consistent, impossible.