Acts Like Summer and Walks Like Rain
Take yourself back to the days when the lunchroom was the place to socialize, assemblies were conducted in the gym and Friday night football games were must-be-at events.
Recently I stumbled across a long-lost case of CD’s containing all the music that captured and in essence, defined my teenage years. From country to rap, pop to rock, there was a song to mark all occasions. These melodic memories culminated themselves in the form of mix CD’s.
Every few weeks you'd sit down, compile a list of your favorite songs (for the time being at least) and attempt to make them all fit onto one solitary disk. If you are anything like me, you had numerous new songs to add every time you embarked on your CD creating venture. However, if you're also anything like me a certain song seemed to finagle it's way onto about 70% of your mixes. To be honest I did not even notice this phenomena until last week when I began to review and reminisce over those forgotten CD's I had made many years ago.
Confession: I have a moderate case of Synonymous Song ADD. (Not to worry, I was recently diagnosed and am now seeking corrective therapy.) The most common symptoms include the inability to concentrate on an entire song from beginning to end and the failure to continue listening or be attentive to any song that has lost one's interest or is simply been playing for over fifty-seven seconds. With this condition comes a horrible burden which I try to bear silently. Due to this disease I was able to listen to, then skip through, every song on every one of those twenty-four CD's. That's when I noticed.
I’m not entirely sure what it is about the song that mesmerizes me so; it must have a hold of my subconscious though. I find it ironic that every single one of those CD's was meant to be unique and one of a kind but somehow there was always a common, underlying thread connecting each one: Drops of Jupiter by Train.
If you asked me to give you a list of my all time, top ten favorite songs it probably wouldn't make the cut, or even cross my mind for that matter. Yet every time I hear the opening lines I am forced to stop and think. I am taken back to a place, to a vague point in time. Just as I feel I'm about to recall which memory is attached to the melody, it escapes me. Hints of memory are all that remain.
Maybe one day I'll figure it out but secretly I hope I never will. All I know is, if you're ever in the mood to listen to that particular song, I've noticed there's a very good chance you'll find it in my CD player.
Recently I stumbled across a long-lost case of CD’s containing all the music that captured and in essence, defined my teenage years. From country to rap, pop to rock, there was a song to mark all occasions. These melodic memories culminated themselves in the form of mix CD’s.
Every few weeks you'd sit down, compile a list of your favorite songs (for the time being at least) and attempt to make them all fit onto one solitary disk. If you are anything like me, you had numerous new songs to add every time you embarked on your CD creating venture. However, if you're also anything like me a certain song seemed to finagle it's way onto about 70% of your mixes. To be honest I did not even notice this phenomena until last week when I began to review and reminisce over those forgotten CD's I had made many years ago.
Confession: I have a moderate case of Synonymous Song ADD. (Not to worry, I was recently diagnosed and am now seeking corrective therapy.) The most common symptoms include the inability to concentrate on an entire song from beginning to end and the failure to continue listening or be attentive to any song that has lost one's interest or is simply been playing for over fifty-seven seconds. With this condition comes a horrible burden which I try to bear silently. Due to this disease I was able to listen to, then skip through, every song on every one of those twenty-four CD's. That's when I noticed.
I’m not entirely sure what it is about the song that mesmerizes me so; it must have a hold of my subconscious though. I find it ironic that every single one of those CD's was meant to be unique and one of a kind but somehow there was always a common, underlying thread connecting each one: Drops of Jupiter by Train.
If you asked me to give you a list of my all time, top ten favorite songs it probably wouldn't make the cut, or even cross my mind for that matter. Yet every time I hear the opening lines I am forced to stop and think. I am taken back to a place, to a vague point in time. Just as I feel I'm about to recall which memory is attached to the melody, it escapes me. Hints of memory are all that remain.
Maybe one day I'll figure it out but secretly I hope I never will. All I know is, if you're ever in the mood to listen to that particular song, I've noticed there's a very good chance you'll find it in my CD player.
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