Like I said, sometimes the “when,” moments are not so bad. Some of them pick up the branches of memories that fork into different channels and lead us to tunnels of thought, like the time when I first heard music from one of my favorite bands.
I was so young and unaware of music at that time. I knew that I liked the sound. I knew that I liked the words to the song. And I could tell that there was something about this, or something deeper, but I was too young to really understand the lyrics.
But either way . .
Do you remember the time when you heard one of your first favorite songs?
Do you remember when you purchased your first album, which of course, I know that I am dating myself because albums, cassette tapes, or CD’s and hell, I even remember 8-tracks which again, these are all outdated and antiquated terms. But still –
Do you remember this?
Do you remember the music from your youth?
Or do you remember the anthems of your younger rebellions, or do you remember how the songs we sang were enough to make us scream our last screams and shout from the top of our lungs?
God, this was incredible for me.
I understand that the music has changed over the years and so have our listening devices. However, at risk of dating myself, this is about some of the “when” moments and the old listening devices from my youth. “
Like, say, the Walkman, which I had, which was somewhat clunky and somewhat heavy, especially when compared to the devises we have nowadays, but the Walkman was a cassette player that was at least small enough to put in the inside pocket of my denim jacket. And this was perfect because I could drown out the rest of the word. The Walkman was small for listening devices at the time; however, the cassette tape inside was big enough to play music and allow me to escape into this alternate universe. And this is where music erases the mind and the lyrics speak in volumes that range beyond the human imagination.
I remember when i could tune out the world and play music and wire the sound to my ears.
I could hate. I could love, I could escape the inescapable terms of causal or uncomfortable daily venues and the main road mediocracies.
I remember when music came along to save me during the worst times of my life.
I remember when I was hurt and cheated on, and worse, I remember my first attempt at having a so-called relationship.
I remember the gullible feeling of foolishness. I say this because I believed every lie and every word that was said—and maybe there was a reason too.
Maybe my pride was hoping or my ego was eager to believe because otherwise the lies were too hurtful, so I agreed to acquiesce.
I agreed to be lied to and I allowed myself to be convinced by the unconvincing words that were told to me.
I remember when my guilty truths came clean and the sun revealed the darkness of my life.
I remember the shame too. And I remember the music that helped me scream.
(and cry)
I remember the humiliation which came with my so-called first attempt at love and yes, I knew it was a lie to begin with; but still, there’s a difference between knowing something deep down and hoping it isn’t true. Then one day, the proof is out.
The evidence become undeniable—which means now you really know. I did know, but I didn’t want to.
Either way, I knew more about being lied to after being called another man’s name at the worst moment possible. Man, that scarred me.
I can still feel the invisibleness of scars like this and how they do damage.
It seems to me that times like this and the heaviest times in our lives come along, and the radio seems to know this because every sing that comes on is a connection.
Maybe this is a love song or a song that reminds you of a time and place or a memory—and the sheer pain of what happened, or seeing what you believed and knowing how it was never real to begin with—I mean, man . . . that was rough.
Alas, the dream escapes and the remnants of scattered territories of places you used to go are like minefields of heartbeat explosion that break under the weight of your feet . . .
I have to say it –
The music by Van Morrison was both a friend and an enemy at the time. I say this because I recall the first time I heard the song, “Sweet thing,” and how I swore that this must be what love feels like.
I remember when I bought my first cassette tape. I was alone in so many ways. And there was no escape.
This was back in my metal head days. This was when I walked halfway across my town in light rain with a hood over my head.
I walked into the record store. I knew exactly where I had to go. I knew where the tape was.
I knew what I wanted. And I knew why I had to get it.
The name of the band is Black Sabbath and the title of the album was Black Sabbath as well.
I remember walking home. The rain was still light but steady. I remember listening to the music and to be honest, there was something great about this. There was something rebellious. There was something freeing about the sound of the music and the rage and the thunder.
There was something about the adrenaline rush.
I remember the first time I listened to an entire album from the band The Pink Floyd. I remember The Dark Side of The Moon. I remember Animals, and I remember the album known as Wish You Were Here.
And I am still blown away.
I am also blown away by the timing and randomness of how songs play out of nowhere, as if to be a sign that, yes, someone out there is thinking about me. They’re thinking the same thing, or possibly feeling the same way, which means not to worry. . . life has a plan, my friend.
You’re not alone.
So –
Until then, keep going. Keep working.
Keep listening because the music is out there.
Never submit or surrender.
Like the spirits or ghost of the past or from the future, I swear it, sometimes, I can hear it in notes. I can hear the rhythm. I can feel it and thus, I know there is music out there that can scream for us, or cry, and there is music that can speak for us, even if there are no words.
I have to admit that I was listening to a song called Dogwood Blossom.
It’s a sad one . . .
But that’s okay.
I like what the song means to me.
Then I can across another slow one—this is a song called English Rose, sung by The Jam.
“No matter where I roam, I will return to my English Rose. . .
for no bonds can ever tempt me from she.”
I have told you about my dream to get into a red convertible, something classic, of course, and then I could put the top down, and turn the radio on.
There is a song in my head, which is how the road trip can start is always the same.
I’ll stop the world and melt with you . . .
Yeah. That’d be a good one to hear.
“You’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better . . . all the time.”
I say this because of the victory I hope to find (and feel) one day
When it all comes down (to you)
and yesterday makes sense because now I understand –
All of this was the hands of two friends, Fate and Destiny
working their magic to solidify my place in the world
(with you in my arms).
The Written Addiction 