This songs matters to me, because: (your explanation here)

That was fucking beautiful. Thanks.

 

For Fenian...

 

What a great thread.

Every Friday, when I was going to UConn, I would throw on the 'Let it Be' LP by the Beatles after my final class of the week. And the first song on that album is Two of Us. It's a very underrated song by the Beatles. Look at the first stanza:

Two of us riding nowhere/
Spending someone's hard-earned pay/
You and me Sunday driving/
Not arriving/
On our way back home/
We're on our way home
We're on our way home
We're going home

Who doesn't want to ride nowhere and spent someone else's money? To this day, whenever I accomplish something that was particularly stressful or complete a project, I play this song because it signals the finality of one aspect and the beginning of another. Just like what it meant in college, except back then it was just one week down of college.

Being a musician - I play bari sax - the first time I heard Bird Feathers by Gil Evans was just an incredible moment. Evans, for those not in the know, was a jazz arranger/conductor from the 1940s up to the 80s. But his best work, in my opinion, was from the mid-50s to mid-60s, when he worked with Miles Davis. He did a couple of albums under his own name, this being one of them, from around 1957. Toward the end of the song, while Cannonball Adderley is soloing on the alto, the trombones, saxes and trumpets are going through these chord progressions in the background that just...sound...perfect. The song also begins with the drummer using brushes on the snare to state the main theme, and then it ends the song the exact same way. So it's like the entire song is just one big circle, with very inventive progressions throughout.

Fly Like an Eagle by Steve Miller Band. I grew up in the sticks of Connecticut and the next town north of us was an old mill city. When I was in high school, my two friends - they were twins - and I would pile into their Chevy S-10 pickup and go into this city (those of you who read the Courant, if you remember the town they profiled because of its heroin problem, this is it) and get a bite to eat at Dairy Queen or whatever. Anyway, we thought it was high comedy to pull up real slow to the hookers walking up and down Main Street...and then peel out in front of them. Hilarity ensued. Anyway, they had one of the first theft-prevention radios, where you would take out THE ENTIRE RADIO by a handle. And always, always, Steve Miller Band's Greatest Hits 1974-78 was in the tape deck. Fly Like an Eagle always played during this time and it became my favorite song. It still applies today. If I'm ever driving down the road and this comes on, I crank it up and wish there was a hooker that I could peel out in front of.

And I guess it's technically a song, but the NFL on CBS theme from the mid-1980s (http://www.80stvthemes.com/ra/NFLTODAY86.ra) (pots and pans, I guess they call it). I was 10 years old when the Giants won Super Bowl XXI and I absolutely loved watching the Giants with my father, who was a diehard fan. Hearing this theme brings me back to tuning in to Ch. 3 in Hartford by turning the antenna on the roof to 'West' (and hopefully it wouldn't be windy out, because then the picture would get snowy from time to time), and listening to Pat Summerall and John Madden do games from Giants Stadium (they ALWAYS seemed to be at Giants Stadium back then). I am so happy that my father taped all three games from the '86 playoffs because watching those is just an absolute joy (including when the picture gets fuzzy from the wind) and the music is a big part of that.

There are also a smattering of songs that hold small memories...Lotta Love, by Nicolette Larson because we were in my parents' 1974 Ford Maverick and my mother was driving us somewhere when I was about 5 years old...Shaddup You Face by Joe Dolce because I am Italian and my grandfather, who was born in Italy, LOVED this song when it came out...More than Words by Extreme, because my older brother loved this song and played it More than Often...

 

Damn, and me without whiskey.

My prequel:

The "Neither One Of Us" session at the local was prompted by the end of a time I spent with a woman I met at the end of my freshman year. It didn't really get rolling until the following semester. One of the things that drew us to each other was that we had almost the same sense of humor. Late one night, when there was a lull in the, ah, festivities, a song came on the radio that struck us both as both a) great, and b) hilarious.
(Added note -- the music I associate most strongly with the festivities in question is Buffalo Springfield's album "Again.")
We immediately called the station -- I told you it was a lull -- and requested it again. It became Our Song. It remains so to this day, even though we're both happily married to other people and live far from each other. At our 30th college reunion last year, we played it on the CD juke at a campus joint.
The song?
All The Young Dudes -- Mott The Hoople.

And now you know...



...the rest of the story.

 

On the way to the airport, a car swerved in and out of the fast lane, caroming off other cars like a drunken fly, bouncing off the center divider with ease and spinning out of control.
Not exactly a sight you’d like to see while on the way to the airport; particularly concerning, considering that flying is not my best trait. *Flying isn’t much of a trait, but if it were, it wouldn’t be my best.
We get to the airport, my best friend Kevin and his sister Tracie, meeting up with our other best friend Todd, and Tracie’s best friend, Casey.
Here we are, two recent college graduates, two sophomores in college, and me, with one (extra) year left, heading to Europe to backpack for a month.
The flight was relatively non-descript — as non-descript as a flight from Los Angeles to London can be. We’re all nervous. We’re all excited. We’re all scared.
All for different reasons. All for the same reasons.
For Kevin, Todd and I, we all realize that our lives will not be the same after this trip. The real world, the Real World, the REAL world, the REAL WORLD stares us in the face. Although I still have a year of college, I know that the year will be entirely based upon setting myself up, post-graduation. Yeah, I’d have fun, but not the same kind of fun as those frat parties and 3 AM runs to get California burritos.
The plane had an incredible entertainment system, with movies, television, video games and CDs.
After an hour and a half of Tetris and two hours of a movie called Sanje’s Wedding — an affable New Zealand flick that I’d gladly watch again — I turn on the music.
My friends are asleep around me, but I’m not about to fall asleep on a flight like this, at least not for more than an hour at a time.
Of course — F_T, for you, bud — I put on The Dance, first. “Rhiannon,” without a doubt. “Big Love,” if only for Lindsey’s solo. “Tusk,” because, well, it’s “Tusk.”
After running through my Mac, I stumble around some other songs.
And then I hit The Three Tenors, live in concert in 1994.
As a child, sitting on my grandfather’s couch, I only remember watching a handful of shows.
At the time, I hated him for making me watch The Golden Girls and Law and Order and Murder She Wrote. I hated him for those PBS specials on Itchak Perlman and Klezmer music. I hated him for the Three Tenors.
But, I remembered one song that I’d always liked, though I could not remember the name or lyrics — in Italian, I don’t think it would’ve mattered.
So I start at song one. Nope. Songs two, nope. Song three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Nope. Songs 11, 12. Nope.
Song 13.
Nessun Dorma.
Those first few chords, of an aching violin. The longing in Pavarotti’s voice. The violins getting higher and higher. Pavarotti matching them.
The triumphant rising. No!!! No!!! The redemption. The sadness that sets in once more. The elegance. And once again, Pavarotti digs deep. Vincero. Vi-Ne-Che-Ro! VI-NE-CHE-RO!
I will win. I Will Win. I WILL WIN.
Tears. And tears. And tears.
On a plane from L.A. to London, I’m in my uncomfortable seat, but really, I’m on my grandfather’s couch. He’d died a few years back, but I think of him as the song plays.
And it plays off and on for the last seven hours of the flight. My friends have no idea what’s come over me. But it’s a good thing.
We land in London, spend two days there, and I meet a nice looking girl named Megan. A bit tall for my taste, but much better looking than I am. Death is much better looking that I am. We have our fun in London, a jolly old time.
Paris, too, is nice. Not as nice as Barcelona, our next stop. Port Olympique, a really good time.
And, then, Cinque Terre, Italy.
These five beautiful little towns, hidden on the cliffs of the Mediterranean. The houses and the buildings, tucked up against the side of a mountain, so many different colors. Striking, really.
And the water, so perfect, so warm. I’m back there now, floating. Wading. Waiting.
Out of nowhere, Megan is back, with her tour group that, somehow, miraculously, has come to this little town in Italy.
That night, we drink and we laugh and we fool around. First on the street, then laying on the cobblestone porch of a restaurant on the way to the beach.
We decide to make the trek down Lover’s Lane, a perfect name for a perfect night. The entire mile walk is spent conjoined, the moon dancing off the water, though we barely notice. Her hands down my pants, my hands down her pants.
We walk from Riomaggiore to the third town, Manarolo, where she’s staying. But, alas, her roommates are back in her room.
“Why don’t we go down to the beach,” she asks?
I quickly oblige. Who wouldn’t?
We don’t make it to the beach.
On the steps down, we stop and consume our passion. The Mediterranean still glistens. The air is still crisp.
And I get a blowjob on the steps leading down to the beach in this small town in Italy.
In the background, I swear I can hear Nessun Dorma. My grandfather would smile.

Fuckin’ Cinque Terre.
Fuckin’ Nessun Dorma.

Vincero.
I will win.

 

Damn.

Post. Of. The. Month.

 

Currently, Luther does my talking for me (and yes I am aware, Dionne Warwick recorded this first, but Luther's version with the sax gets me every time)

Anyone who ever loved
Could look at me
And know that I love you
Anyone who ever dreamed
Could look at me
And know I dream of you

Knowing I love you so
Anyone who had a heart
Would take me in her arms
And love me too
You, you couldn't really have a heart
And hurt me
Like you hurt me
And be so untrue
What am I to do

Every time you go away
I always say it's good bye dear
Loving you the way I do
I take you back
Without you I'd die dear
Knowing I love you so

Anyone who had a heart
Would take me in her arms
And love me too
You, you couldn't really have a heart
And hurt me
Like you've hurt me
And be so untrue
So what can I do

Knowing I love you so
Anyone who had a heart
Would take me in her arms
And love me too
You couldn't really have a heart
And hurt me
Like you hurt me
And be so untrue

Anyone who had a heart
Would love me too
Anyone who had a heart
Would surely take me in her arms
And, and always love me, and love me, love me
Why won't you

Anywone who had a heart
Would love me too
Anyone who had a heart
Would surely take me in her arms
And always love me, love me
Then why won't you

Anyone who had a heart
Would love me too
Anyone who had a heart
Would surely take me
Anyone would take me
Why, why won't you
No one's gonna love ya like I do
No one's gonna make you feel the way I do
Yeah
No one
No one, no one, no one, no one

[Fade]

While my posts in the open letter thread suggest that I've merely been searching for, as Tom Petty so eloquently phrases it, "cheesecake," I'm guilty of catching feelings and wondering why they are never returned.

This song has been my anthem for my sad state of romantic affairs for quite some time. I always find myself asking the question that Luther asks at the end of each of this song's choruses "Why won't you?"

It's a question that's gone unanswered for about as long as I can remember. The feelings of hopelessness, loneliness, despair and frustration serve mostly to leave one hurt and sad, but can also be some what of a encouraging sign that you are indeed human, and not an uncaring, unfeeling bad-ass that you think you are or want to be.

 

I figure I'll change up a little bit.

I'll take you back to the spring of 2001. I'm living in an apartment with a couple of roommates who by now are painfully aware of my obsession with all things Stevie Nicks. Nicks is getting ready to release her first solo album in seven years, since her clunker Street Angel barely scraped gold. My fellow Nicks fanatics included a mix of those nervous about whether the new CD would be a Street Angel-esque flop. Of course, there were the chiffonheads who could listen to her sing the phone book and be delirious.

By now, I was trying to fully immerse myself in the world of journalism. Thus, out went my non-critical fanboy love of Nicks. Replacing it was what I hoped was a more objective fandom: One that could see faults and, thus, appreciate the good things all the more. In the days leading up to the May 1 release of Trouble in Shangri-la, Nicks's eighth solo album, some snippets of the songs made the rounds, along with their titles.

One of the titles immediately caught my eye, as did one fellow Nicks fan's description of this song ("cuz it rocks so hard"). As I mentioned earlier, my tastes edge more toward powerhouse rock and roll. I'm the guy who gets more into her fiery renditions of Tom Petty and the Heartbreaker's "I Need To Know" than I would into a song like "Landslide," which usually leaves me checking my watch. With a feeling of nervous excitement seeping through me, I clicked on the link for the song that so intrigued me: Fall From Grace.

The effect was immediate: The driving guitars and the aggressive drumming told me immediately this was Stevie Nicks at her amps-to-11 rock and roll best. But like almost all Stevie Nicks songs, the lyrics were what grabbed my attention first. The snippet I was listening to was the second verse, so Nicks's searing vocals ripped through the air as an accusation: "You say you wouldn't do this for very long/the applause from it all is so defining/Well it bounces at the wall at you/When the miracle is happening."

By the time the song hit the chorus, I was aching with a need to play this song over and over. I also ached with a desire to know the song and sing along with just as much anger and intensity as Nicks did with these vocals. The weeks loomed ahead like a far off finish line looming, teasing, taunting an exhausted runner facing leg cramps and his main archrival gradually gaining ground. Just a few weeks before the May 1 release date, Nicks would perform this song with Sheryl Crow at the Blockbuster Awards. When she did, I was mesmerized. With the VCR recording that moment for all posterity, I would have that version to carry me through until Trouble in Shangri-la finally materialized in my hands.

I played the studio version for one of my roommates for the first time and noticed him playing air guitar as the first chorus began to give way to the second verse. I told him I noticed it and he said he didn't remember doing so, but he must like the song if he did. A few days later, I played that live version for him for the first time. That time, when I told him I noticed the air guitar, he distinctly remembered playing it. This wasn't "oh, I guess I liked it then." This was, "yeah, I did." He immediately pronounced it a great song and loved the forceful intensity Nicks sang the song with.

The song would have its other moments. My stepfather, who normally only listens to classical or the odd easy listening pop song heard me playing this song and asked me, "who does this song?" I replied, "what?" with a mix of confusion and stunned surprise. He repeated, "who does this song?" I answered, "Stevie Nicks." He then said something that absolutely floored me: "I like the music." It wasn't the first time he'd heard me play Stevie Nicks, but it was the first time I ever remembered him liking a hard rock song.

When Nicks toured with this album, she appeared at Nissan Pavilion in her first show since canceling the previous four with a throat problem. For the most part, she sang and performed as if she should have canceled that show. Except when she sang this song. Then she seemed to wake up out of her sickened stupor and tear the cover off the song.

There was the time I wrote an e-mail to a company that records karaoke tracks to request this song. A guy from that company wrote me back, telling me he really liked the song. He asked me to send him the song so the company could record it. I did so. Within a matter of months, I finally had that song in my possession and was able to sing it at karaoke. It's not a guaranteed hit because most people hadn't heard the song, but every once in a while, I strike gold. One of the first times I'd ever gotten a standing ovation for a song was after singing this one in front of a university crowd who chanted my stage name after I finished.

A lot of Fleetwood Mac fans site "Silver Springs" off The Dance as proof to the world that Nicks could still sing. I like to cite this song as proof Nicks can still rock, and rock harder than most. To this day, it's one of my all time favorite songs of hers. It's still my favorite song to sing at karaoke.

 

Amazing Grace -- It was played at my grandpa's funeral in 1998 and my grandma would always play it on the piano when things were going badly in the family when I was younger. It always seemed to make things better, no matter what was going on. I remember one night my mom and aunt were arguing and my grandma and I were in the den staying out of it. I was five or six at the time and bawling my eyes out because they wouldn't stop, and then my grandma started playing Amazing Grace. Eventually my mom and aunt quit fighting over whatever they were fighting over and all returned to normal...or at least whatever normal was for our family.

Anytime I hear it, especially on the bagpipes, I get choked up thinking about my grandpa. It doesn't matter where I am, at a store, the car driving somewhere, work or wherever. I always get teary eyed when I hear Amazing Grace playing.

It's one of my favorite songs to sing in church, and I love the version by Blind Boys of Alabama. There's a new version out, called Amazing Grace My Chains are Broken, and I love that one, too. I work with a youth group, and that is one of the songs we are working on for Youth Sunday coming up in March.

 

This is a really tough one to figure, because there are so many songs that mean something. Some take me back to one moment in my memory, like Welcome to the Jungle playing when my hockey team had a pregame brawl.

Others bring back memories of entire times or a person. These are about those two instances:

For some reason I've never quite figured out, Stairway to Heaven was always the last song at our monthly middle school dances in the mid-80s. Everytime I hear that it takes me back to that awkwardness of fifth grade with the girls from the "other school" on one wall and me and my friends trying to be cool on the other. It takes me back to sixth grade and my first girlfriend. It takes me back to seventh grade and slow dancing with Marlena, if I would have known then what I know now ...

I don't know exactly when Holly came into my high school. I don't remember her in my homeroom sophomore year, but she was in the year book so she must have been there. I didn't become friends with her until junior year when we had some of the same classes together and through really imaginative alphabetical order seating she was always sitting in front of me. We really hit it off and were good friends, but (and there's always a but) she was going out with an all-state offensive lineman/all-state wrestler a year ahead of us.

Senior year he goes off to Princeton and by Thanksgiving they break up. I'm there to help her pick up the pieces and find that it's becoming more than just friends. Because of that, Holly and I drift apart the last three months of the year. At some point in that time frame, I'm drop her off at home after school. As I'm pulling away Bell Bottom Blues comes on. Talk about touching a raw nerve.

I went away to college and we wrote a couple of times freshman year, and a drunk-dialing senior year. But it was never the same as it was for that year and a half. Me and Mrs. Fear are happily married now, but still it's impossible for me to hear that song and not think of Holly and wonder whatever happened to her.

 

What are songs but ways for musicians to express feelings for a certain moment lyrically? Through music, we can understand the artist's desires and hope to make sense with our own.

In my life, music has held a big place in my heart, well, simply because I was musically trained from when I was five until the end of high school. I began on piano, played for seven years and then transferred to trumpet and played for eight.

There are times when I remember listening to my father's R&B band perform cover and original songs. I can remember the name of the song my father told me he sang the hour before meeting my mother for the first time. I tear up like Adam Morrison once “Lighter Shade of Pale” plays because I know I will have one less parent (my mom wants it played at her funeral).

Music has been a part of my life for a while and even currently, I am writing song lyrics every now and then and thinking about working on a new project. Music, but more importantly poetry, has become a vehicle for me to express what I cannot in regular words.

My pen becomes my tongue and the ink becomes the words. Before I know it, I have solved a problem of mine in the time it takes to write a poem or a new song. I look back on it and if it came down to it, I couldn't talk through the problem with anyone. They just wouldn't know my prose.

But since songs are just moments captured for our listening pleasure, some songs have taken new meaning as I become older and venture to parts unknown.

Before leaving for my current job, I began making an MP3 CD, compiling some 120 songs for my ride halfway across the country. The first song I pulled out of my iTunes was “Starin' Through My Rear View” by Tupac.

It's not just because I want to give a holler to my 'friends' in the darkest corner. Not because I want to roll a perfect blunt and then spark it for ya. But the fact that at this stage in my life, I am leaving everything that held me back behind me.

My college years were full of joy and amazing moments, but at the same time my three-and-a-half years were mired in misery and despair. Those who I confided myself in and wanted to believe were my friends, weren't, and I slowly found that out.

It took me until a fist fight in July with my supposed “friends” to realize they were holding me back and just not worth my time. Two punches to the jaw really change your perception of another person.

But from that and other things, I learned to just leave the past behind me, because well, it's the past. You can't change what happened yesterday and you can't change what happened a minute ago. You can only help to learn from those moments and not make the same mistakes in the future.

So, I guess I'm “Starin' Through my Rear View” at the past and laughing about how long it took me to realize how bad those people and moments were for me. Although, I can't be staring through the rear view too much because the future comes up on you pretty fast. It's like a brick wall wrapped up in the present.

Secondly, I am a fan of Kanye West, simply because he has transcended the rap game and how artists are perceived. I try to embody his swagger and his charisma on a daily basis while trying to limit the cockiness.

When his song “Good Life” plays, I sit back and really think. Right now, I am truly living the good life. I am doing what I want to do and don't regret going into work every day. Not a lot of people can say that who are on the roads with me in the morning. I am sure a car over, someone is having thoughts of quitting their job. I don't even want to know what the guy in the mail truck is thinking.

But whenever I hear “Good Life,” it brings me back to the future and makes me think about how many other people have it worse than me. If you ever want to feel better about your situation, think about someone on the street of your city. Imagine how they wasted or let go opportunities that were presented to them and how you are making the best of your's.

“Good Life” also holds a special place in my heart, well, because it's my fucking song. It's a song that I can just sit back and watch the good times ride.

You see, it all comes back full-circle.

Songs are nothing but moments captured in lyrics and music while providing us with a chance to better understand who we are, who we embody and who we're destined to be.

Make sure that every moment you live that at one point you could write a song. Live so that you will have no regrets about what you did in the past. Live so that you can be like Frank Sinatra and say, “If you lived like me, once is good enough.”

Just live.

Every day I am trying to better myself and every day I am trying to live without regret. My future is unfolding and I continue to go back to Kanye and T-Pain's words to end “Good Life.”

 

As much as we are transported to a time and place with each of these songs, the artists likely feel the same way. If there was a way to pass this along to each of our favorite artists, their days (maybe their lives) would be made.

It's 1996, another cold spring in upstate New York and I'm facing down college graduation. Unlike my few friends I'm looking forward to it. If I had it to do over I wouldn't have majored in journalism because I thought it was the biggest waste of time and money. I learned nothing in classes I didn't figure out on my three internships and yearlong stint at the student paper. If I could have steamrolled through in less than four years I would have. Hated most of my college life, socially and academically. One day the clouds broke and the sun came out while I was driving to the grocery store. A song came on the radio that opened thus: "And in the end we shall achieve in time, this thing we call divine. When all the stars will smile for me." It had a menlancholy tempo and feel to it, and it ended up being Spacehog's only hit. "In the Meantime takes me back to that moment and gives me a lift whenever I'm in a pit that seems too deep to dig out from. Things will get better and your moment will come.

Funny how absence makes the heart grow fonder. That's how I feel about my time at college and that's what I was thinking about when I had the chance to see Billy Joel in Dallas three-and-a-half years later. Yes, I am one of "those." Naturally, on the short drive to Reunion Arena I had Greatest Hits 1 and 2 in the CD players. To set things up, we had fired a couple of people and I had worked three straight weeks without a day off, 60-70 hours a week. I also was denied a promotion I felt I should at least have been considered for, and been given the MBA equivalent of a pat on the head and the advice to "keeping working, your break will come." Plus, during our weekly chat my parents had reminded me that I was coming home for Christmas later that same week. I was so busy and pissed off about the promotion I swear I had forgotten about it. God damn, I needed a break. With that, "New York State of Mind" came on the stereo and I sobbed. My parents still lived upstate and beyond college I didn't have a strong connection there, but for some reason, that week I was really homesick and slightly hopeless. Joel's tune was a welcome respite and an emotional release.

Five years later, I'm living in Texas and dating this cool chick. She's got some musical background but wanted to get in to jazz a bit. For her birthday I got her a couple of CDs, including one of Ella Fitzgerald's "Great American Songbooks." We celebrated her birthday during my de-facto weekend (Wednesday-Thursday) and I headed back from the Metroplex. A week later "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" was on endless repeat as we, uh, did what those kinds of people do when together. A couple of weeks later, after a play we saw, we headed for one of my favorite spots in the Lakewood neighborhood of Dallas, where a jazz trio played and an old man crooned. I requested what became "our" song and five minutes later we left the club, headed to her apartment, yada yada yada... The relationship crumbled a couple years later and we're still friends now, but to this day, whenever I hear that song I get a lump in my throat.

More to come, for sure. Love this thread.