I'm busy getting ready to be 30. It's been a few years since a milestone birthday, and this is generally not one people are too excited about...something about those tens.
I decided to project my mind back over time, try to come up with a song I remember being on repeat during each of my years, a song that had significance. For example, when I was 23 and facing the fact that I had a huge credit card bill, students loans newly consolidated and entering repayment, my car in need of repair, and no teaching job on the horizon, Coldplay had songs that met me in my self-doubt and fear. I want to remember that.
The early stuff (strangely) was easiest to figure out because I have clear memories of those songs. It was most challenging to choose songs for my late teens/early twenties when I was consuming music like a pig at trough. The girl had to have tunes all the time! Non-stop!
If you want to experience this list aurally, see the embedded playlist below .
29 "The Glorious Land" - PJ Harvey
28 "Converter" - Helio Sequence
27 "No Fit State" - Hot Chip
26 "Far Away" - Cut Copy
25 "Hounds of Love" - Kate Bush
24 "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" - Arcade Fire
23 "Talk" - Coldplay
22 "Got to Get Up" - Siouxie and the Banshees
21 "Pissing in a River" - Patti Smith
20 "One Line" - PJ Harvey
19 "It's No Good" - Depeche Mode
18 "Vanishing Point" - New Order
17 "Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want" - The Smiths
16"Love is a Stranger" - Eurythmics
15 "Discotheque" - U2
14 "With our Without You" - U2
13 "Dreams" - The Cranberries
12 "Don't Turn Around" - Ace of Base
11 "What is Love?"- Haddaway (the first song I recorded off the radio.
-----> ANNO STEREO <-----
9/10 Amy Grant (massive obsession that also involves rollerskating)
8 "These Boots Were Made for Walking"- Nancy Sinatra
7 The Beach Boys' album Surfer Girl
6 "I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)" - Whitney Houston
5 "Walk like an Egyptian" - The Bangles
4 Ella Fitzgerald, live (I thought I could scat after I heard her, even though I couldn't whistle or snap yet!)
3 My own music...I liked to perform for guests.
Halloween is a laugh in the face of mortality, the gluttonous consumption of candy a spit on the Grim Reaper's loafers. Still, the spitting's done from behind the eyes of a costume; it's hard to look in the mirror and know time is limited.
This year I raise a toast to River Phoenix, who died on a sidewalk in front of The Viper Room in L.A., a blossoming mortal plucked just in time for All Soul's Day like a handful of marigolds. River overdosed 18 years ago this Halloween.
I was a skinny, bruise-kneed, 12-year-old girl when River was in his prime, but I read about his death in a glossy spread in People magazine and felt sorry for the boy I knew from Indiana Jones. I wasn't familiar with River's heavier movies yet, but he met me at mile-markers in my life like poor Mike from My Own Private Idaho, and is still hitching a ride in my heart.
Today, this Day of the Dead, I give you Grant Lee Buffalo singing our love for River, still fresh in sorrow as we've passed any age he'll ever reach.
You were like my own James Byron Dean
Private Idaho was my East of Eden
Hit me like a stone when I heard you passed on Halloween
Let that full bassline and the golden vocals of Grant carry you, full sadness and ebullient celebration.
"Orpheus...is the only mortal to
have roamed the underworld, and by the power and charm of his song,
return again to the living." -From Scott Walker: 30th Century Man
I am fascinated by the pain writers put themselves through. It's no mystery to anyone that writing takes a lot of time and hard work, that the muse is elusive and plain old blood, sweat, and tears are necessaryin the battle to produce great works. But, there's the added wrinkle: writers have to put their characters through hell- they have to allow them to make bad choices, pick the wrong romantic partners, miss the clues that would give them understanding, and sometimes authors even have to allow characters to lose and destroy themselves. When I think about this on personal level, I quail; it takes a staunch soul to allow a character to experience pain and suffering, and readers are savvy to writers who will only go half way.
Is it evidence of a great artist that we will stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a character who is walking through fire? If a character's suffering resonates within us like a drum beat, or discomforts our hearts like overloud bass?
I wonder if it is my fear of going to dark places in my own writing that causes me to want to walk in Orpheus' shadow. What is it that's lurking in the fire? And what am I down here looking for anyway?
Dave Gahan, Faith and Devotion era
Most of the time I'd rather not know...but when a songwriter holds out their hand to me, to exorcise the primeval, the raw stuff of humanity, I will take their hand gladly.
A person doesn't have to go far to realize the underworld is tangible, but few tell the tale faithfully, truthfully, and as any Orpheus will tell you, there's something sacrificed to sing the song.
The descent might be for love or enjoyment, and the path initially easy, or none would venture there. Songs are sent thrumming across the airwaves frequently, as numerous as the feet of pigeons on a telephone wire, and nobody sings songs from the descent better than The Rolling Stones.
Some songwriters send stories of terror to us from the depths-- the every day reality of the world-- songs desperately frightening in their truth, car crashes we can't look away from, but can't fully see.
Some sing the songs of resignation, pools of sadness, bodies of water all are familiar with.
Some songwriters bring us Orpheuses (Orhphii?) who have been looking so long for a glimpse of Spring in Hades, that they've forgotten what the sky looks like; these are the characters that might glance back on their way back to the world, and lose their chance at Spring forever.
Almost any song from Songs of Faith and Devotion echoes this, because while the lyrics sound positive and full of reinvigorating sunshine, the music turns the lyrics upside down.
Sometimes songwriters sing people down into the darkness, with obsidian eyes reflecting the rivers of fire crawling beneath our feet.
And then there is an Orpheus who inhabits the space between the dark places and the sun, singing to us of the release that is coming if we keep climbing, the warmth that will return to our hearts and spirits, the light spotted in the distance.
Standing beside these characters, my heart resonates with their journeys; I have seen what they have seen, felt what they have felt, and their stories have become a mirror. I have wandered in tunnels characters have gotten lost in, and sometimes gotten lost in tunnels and been shown the way out through their songs. I follow Orpheus to know humanity, to know myself, better.
It is the power of a writer, having looked into dark places, to sing songs of darkness and desperation, of sunlight and joy, of that which is true, acknowledging the entire experience of being human. And, as Ana says, "
I think that ironically, it is people who...have
often had a wide scope of life experience, much of it painful, that
advocate for the goodness in humanity, the most."
The bravest writers invert the light/dark metaphor: by choosing to let their characters walk the path of suffering, they choose to allow all parts of their characters into the light. In the midst of suffering the universal desires for love, understanding, security, and forgiveness are being affirmed. This is a journey I am glad to join.
