Don't Think Twice It's All Right, Bob Dylan
Many Rivers To Cross, Jimmy Cliff, The KCRW Session
All The Umbrellas in London, The Magnetic Fields
Hold On, Alabama Shakes
Oh! Sweet Nuthin', The Velvet Underground
Don't Look Back in Anger, Oasis
Many Rivers To Cross, Jimmy Cliff, The KCRW Session
All The Umbrellas in London, The Magnetic Fields
Hold On, Alabama Shakes
Oh! Sweet Nuthin', The Velvet Underground
Don't Look Back in Anger, Oasis
I don't know about you, but music is a must for me. It doesn't heal me, but it's my friend, sitting there, chiming in in just the right way. I listen to everything and when I do, I hear every instrument, every ding of a cymbal, every beautiful crack when a singer strives to reach something higher than she was meant to.
I survived high school through the use of mixed tapes. You know - when passing along music meant sitting for hours with a double cassette recorder, really thinking about the order, how the person you were passing it on to would be taking it all in, about what each song meant to you. You really felt something about it and you put yourself in there somewhere. Every mixed tape I received was a magical gift and when I listened to them, I could feel a part of the giver in there.
When I was eight, I was sitting at our card table in the living room doing my homework. My brother Sam, who was three walked up to me and stood about a foot away. I smiled at him. He pulled down his pants and started peeing on my leg. Years later when I was in college, he mailed me a mixed tape, scrawled on the label at the top were the words, "I PISS ON YOUR KNEE." It was mostly New Order, Cowboy Junkies, Velvet Underground. I pictured him with his asymmetrical haircut rummaging through his collection, cuing up the tape over and over, writing the playlist in his uneven handwriting in the liner. I pictured him searching for a bubble envelope, I pictured him writing my college address on it, then asking my mom to drive him to the post office. That's how you share music.
I survived high school through the use of mixed tapes. You know - when passing along music meant sitting for hours with a double cassette recorder, really thinking about the order, how the person you were passing it on to would be taking it all in, about what each song meant to you. You really felt something about it and you put yourself in there somewhere. Every mixed tape I received was a magical gift and when I listened to them, I could feel a part of the giver in there.
When I was eight, I was sitting at our card table in the living room doing my homework. My brother Sam, who was three walked up to me and stood about a foot away. I smiled at him. He pulled down his pants and started peeing on my leg. Years later when I was in college, he mailed me a mixed tape, scrawled on the label at the top were the words, "I PISS ON YOUR KNEE." It was mostly New Order, Cowboy Junkies, Velvet Underground. I pictured him with his asymmetrical haircut rummaging through his collection, cuing up the tape over and over, writing the playlist in his uneven handwriting in the liner. I pictured him searching for a bubble envelope, I pictured him writing my college address on it, then asking my mom to drive him to the post office. That's how you share music.
RSS Feed