Song of the Week

I am still trying to understand why this languished as a draft. It seems well-fleshed out, and I see nothing to add, save editing it for grammar (hello, Grammarly). All these years (memory, insight, and wisdom) later, I still can’t help but laugh. What a lovely memory. It takes me back to that dorm room and being a fresh-faced, old-souled 20. – Easter 2024

As a Wheaton Freshman, Emma and I would study in my room. Then, as of now, I had a decent speaker system, and I loved making use of it. Days previous, I found a CD of “Railroad Music” at the Wheaton library. Music to my ears. As we studied, I put the music on. I found it so relaxing that I quickly passed into a deep sleep. I don’t know what woke me up, but the CD was over by the time I did. I chatted with Emma for a few minutes and then decided I’d try to start studying again, so I went to put the music back on. Before I could, Emma begged me not to. “Heather, I sat here for at least an hour watching you sleep, hoping each song was the last, and when it wasn’t, debating if I should try to shut it off (she never did; she let the CD play out). Please don’t start that again, I’ll leave”. I could only laugh, and I did. I had no idea that anyone would dislike that music (it turns out that every person who later heard it hated it), but I had no problem turning it off. I wouldn’t have wanted to subject anyone to that, especially my close friends, but it’s funny that I did. Every time I listen to music remotely similar to that CD, I think about that…and I smile.

For those who just can’t get enough:

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Charlie came into town on Wednesday, and while we were not listening to Cornell, the conversation turned to him via talk of Hozier. It prompted me to listen to Cornell’s book of work that following day. On Friday or Saturday, I understandably woke up singing a Cornell song, but I was surprised that it was Sunshower. I had only listened to a few minutes of it, but I had listened to many others over and over.

Ironically, I read through my JW emails three days later and found this URL I emailed myself on 7/8/2020 at 12:09 AM. I do not remember seeing this or the website, but I love that I found a current blog doing exactly what I want to do, except on a more consistent basis.

I have always liked the song. It has a sad sort of beauty to it, like the play on words in the album title, Euphoria Morning vs. Mourning. For whatever reason, I bought the Great Expectations CD for the track. I am unsure if it differs from the track on Cornell’s album.

What I liked from the beautiful song blog post:

“What makes this a beautiful song: … 3. His voice was amazing. By the late 90s, he couldn’t quite reach the stratosphere the way he could in Soundgarden’s heyday, but his voice wasn’t the rusty rollercoaster it would end up being in Audioslave.”

Week 367: “Sunshower” by Chris Cornell

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On several occasions, I know I’ve mentally written Song of the Week posts and noted that songs make me want to dance. To some extent this is one of those songs, but better. It doesn’t just make me want to dance, it actually makes me dance. I genuinely can’t imagine hearing this song and not feeling the urge to move. The song just makes me happy, and I express my joy by dancing. The second this song comes on, my head bops, my hands wave, my foot taps to the beat.

Years from now I’ll be in a new place, but I’ll carry my wave and my CD with me, and I’ll still be able to close my eyes and remember standing in front of my childhood mirror, bouncing around, looking myself right in the eye, smiling at my reflection.

This is another blog post written before the inaugural “It turned out perfectly.” This was written on March 10, 2017.

When I was a child, my dad owned this red and silver Chevrolet Suburban. Haley and I loved it. As kids, we were excited to ride along on the bench seat because it was so different than other cars. We were equal with the driver, seeing what he saw out that front windshield. Perhaps too, it was that the bench seat lent a sense of togetherness.

Flashing back, thinking about that suburban reminds me of diet coke and cassettes. I loved the car’s cassette player. My dad had this one Cajun tape (that he’d made) and I adored the song “See You Later Alligator.” That cassette was played and rewound so often that if I had the tape today, I’d be astonished if it could still play.

Surprisingly, that wasn’t the only song I listened to. Often, songs I’d never heard before would come on the radio, and my dad would play a game with me. He’d turn down the radio for an imperceptible second and ask me, “What do you hear?” or “Listen, did you catch the violin?”. He encouraged me to truly listen to the music, to appreciate the parts that make up the whole.

Driving home from class, I heard this song and immediately picked up on the banjo. It reminded me of how I was taught to listen closer and listen harder.

Gale Song
The Lumineers

This song makes me emotional.

it makes me think of my dreams, my aspirations, my goals,

it spurs me to visualize meeting those goals,

and it nearly brings me to tears.

Because I know those accomplishments won’t remain locked in my mind’s eye for long,

they will see day.

And they will see that day soon.

I heard this song, 9 at night, as I solitarily made MCAT psych/soc flashcards. Out of the blue, I  said, “I love this song”, out loud, as if I was holding conversation with someone else in the room.

I am not entirely sure why I like this song so much.

It feels nice? Is that a valid reason?

It also reminds me of high school.

I get flutters in my chest remembering how wonderful it was to be young, with the world just opening before me. The world is still lovely and filled with much opportunity, but in high school, the world was JUST opening up. For goodness sake, I had to walk to each class, AND I could finally pick classes that I wanted to take. Freedom in any semblance was captivating.

I also remember humming Dani California and listening as the rude kid next to me asked if I liked the Chili Peppers. I can still hear my enthusiastic response and, I can still hear his as the boy pointed out that if I didn’t know any other songs but the one popular song, I couldn’t possibly be a real fan. That was kind of humiliating.

What that rude kid didn’t realize was that I was thrilled I had found the song on my dad’s iPod, and that I had actually liked the song. It was so cool that my dad and I shared a mutual fondness for the song. 

As I think about it, that jerk was kind of right though? Wasn’t he? Was I real a fan of the band, or was I a fan of what they represented? However, while rude kid was right, so was I. This isn’t some one trick pony of a life we lead. We can like something because it’s part of a larger, grander work, but we can also like objects and moments solely for their nostalgic glory, and for how they make us feel.

Kind of like cheese whiz and Ritz crackers.

From The Forum in Inglewood, CA   7/13/1998

I forgot to write a description for this song*. I can’t exactly remember when or how I heard Even Flow, though it may have been an Apple Music find. Regardless of how I found it, the song was stuck in my head for at least 5 days. All I can perfectly remember is that I loved the kick just over a minute into the song. The part where you feel the need to dance. To dance like the butterflies that Vedder speaks of. 

There are days when I really enjoy reading songs’ lyrics, like poetry, interpreting their meanings**, wondering what the songwriter was thinking in the moment they wrote that song. Then there are days when I prefer to listen obliviously, and without interruption from anyone else’s perception or judgement. However, when I post a song for the week, I like to double check for the “gist” of the song. You know, just in case. I won’t say whose little sister brought it to her incognizant big sister’s attention that maybe said big sister shouldn’t be singing a certain Lady Gaga song aloud loudly, but count it as a lesson learned. With that, I looked up the lyrics for this song. Clearly, I didn’t listen closely enough, because I truly had no idea that the song was about homelessness, but after stumbling upon the analysis I was spurred to share the interpretation of Vedder’s butterflies. They are symbols, of “Experiencing optimism in the face of difficulty”. Well said, they are.

 

* Random observation, but last year I confided in an acquaintance that I was thrilled to see the Soundgarden drummer, Matt Cameron, perform live with Pearl Jam. My acquaintance pointed out that Cameron is a great drummer and that Cameron’s affinity for speeding up songs brought an interesting twist to Pearl Jam. I never thought much about it until I heard the Even Flow album version cast against the bootleg version that I shared above. Day and night.

**(oftentimes with help, hello Genius Lyrics)

I have a tendency to wear out albums. I listen to them over and over till they lose their magic. Eventually, I stop listening to them and oftentimes, never return to them. If I see them in a store, or they come up in conversation, I never hesitate to praise them, but at the same time, I do not bother to play them again. That’s why the moments when they come back are unusually special. After a month of happily listening, exclusively, to Christmas music, it was such a neat experience to hear the other music I love. As I set out to set up my Christmas present and my jumpstart to healthier choices, I turned on my “Thumbprint Radio.” It was great hearing “Angela,” Stapleton, Strait, and “Stable Song” afresh, but it was so neat hearing “Foreigner’s God,” especially that opening beat, again. The memories of that song pushing me to stay ever strong in Vegas where I felt as Hozier puts it, “an alien in their culture”, and knowing how it further pushes me when people tell me that I shouldn’t, can’t and won’t become a doctor, always kind of makes me happy. Happy, because  I don’t know that anyone will ever say that we truly belong somewhere, but fortunately I know full well that the power to belong, rather to succeed, lies within ourselves, not them.

 

 

I like the idea of having themed radio. That’s why I’ve stuck with Pandora, even while their users dropped away like flies. But Pandora grew stale. It seemed like they stopped using my input, stopped noticing when I skipped a song. Yes, Pandora, that indicates I have heard that song, that specific order of songs, way too many times! With that, I begrudgingly boarded the Sirius XM radio train. My arm was twisted. It sounded like a joke, $15 a month for what I can get free over the air. I hate to admit it though, but I am in the trial period, and it’s pretty cool. It’s helping me find new music, and that’s the point, isn’t it?

Geeks came on their “coffeehouse” station. I loved it. Even though I self-identify as a nerd, growing up, I basked in it and fortunately never experienced the bullying that came along with it. So for me, being a nerd was different. I was raised to be assertive, and to use my voice, to find the things that made me happy. Perhaps due to that, I intimidated anyone looking to rag on my geekiness. Or maybe, I just never noticed if people had a problem with me because I never had a problem with myself. Either way, the reality that other children don’t have the same opportunity and perspective that I had and the fact that bullies teach, rather force, geeks not to love themselves, to feel worthy, or to be independent and strong hurts me. The fight against bullying is one that I am passionate about. We will never know who’s light is being snuffed out and what significant loss we have incurred. Perhaps that is why I am drawn to this song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWX5kXHazbE

 

As I drove home from the library, this song came on. It inspired the post I wrote for that day. As I wrote about this song, I realized that I had enough material for an entire post.

On Favorites:

Songbook is probably one of my all-time favorite albums.

One song that I really enjoy is “Cleaning My Gun.”

Today, something about his intro made me laugh a bit, and yet there was nothing funny about it. Maybe it was the sentiment, the feeling, a kindness that came through.*

And then the sadness struck.  Sadness, because seconds after laughing at the warmth, I remembered that it ended and how. It was an emptiness that chilled me, cold felt from the inside out. The reality hit me that we wouldn’t be getting any more songs to laugh anew at. 

As I drove on, it comforted me to remember that I can always find something new, something redemptive, even in the old standbys. It reassured me that music preserves and perseveres. It perseveres even when its creators can’t.

*Perhaps I’m on to something because in trying to google the song’s meaning I found that they felt it too.

I’ve written about Jade Bird before, and I still think she’s incredible. This weekend, she was in town. On her own tour. For my sister and me, it was a must see. 

Her opening band was a man with a guitar, much like she was a woman with a guitar when she first opened for Anderson East.

When Jade Bird came on to play, we were surprised. This time she had a band. I thoroughly enjoyed the concert. It was entertaining, upbeat, and the interaction between the band members was on point. That said, I still prefer Jade Bird with just a guitar and her voice. I loved the beat, but the band drowned out her voice a bit. And the excitement of it all took away from what Jade Bird is best at, showcasing her voice, her emotion and her youthfulness, getting to the heart of what music is and should be.

Jade Bird did, however, give the band a break. She sang three songs acoustically. One is the song below. It was powerful, beautiful, and I wasn’t the only one left choking up. Later, I was surprised to find out that she’d written the song. I thought for sure it had to be a classic. I was wrong, it isn’t a classic, but it should be.

 

I saw Jade Bird when she opened for Anderson East, at one of my favorite venues, Thalia Hall. Later, I went to buy her album and was stunned. I realized she is only 20!!! Jade Bird has a beautiful voice, is so expressive, and is a phenomenal performer. I loved this video. I love her work and wrote her into another of my blog posts. Also, if you ever get the chance, you need to hear her sing Johnny Cash’s “I’ve Been Everywhere” live. It’s worth the price of admission alone!

I chose “Say Hello to Heaven” by Temple of the Dog. The raw, emotional power of not just this song, but the album is difficult to find elsewhere. A group of guys seeks to mourn the loss of their friend. They come together as one and create a collection to define their era. After hearing “Hunger Strike,” I bought the album with the intent of skipping ahead and playing that third track on repeat. My rule, though, is to listen to a record in its entirety, as the artist laid it out. Say Hello to Heaven is the opening track of the album, and it made me ever grateful for my album rule. The song is beautiful and moving, and unfortunately eulogizes Cornell as fittingly as when Cornell eulogized Andrew Wood with it. I am sure that a fair number of people who wrote and continue to write dedications to Cornell include this single, but it can’t hurt to have one more tribute fall back on the beauty and heart aching nature of this song.

 

Long before I made my first official blog post, I had been jotting down notes for “one day.” Thankfully, I dated some of them. This would have been the song of the week April, 27 of 2017. I still remember that drive when I first “picked up” on this song.

“There is something about this song… It came on just before I was leaving to take care of errands. I heard five seconds of it and said oh I better pause that and listen later because I think that’s one of my favorites. Later, when I looked at the title, I swore I had never seen it before. It came from the deluxe album, so I figured that I probably owned the conventional album, but then I checked my iPod and there was the song. Turns out I never paid it any attention when I had heard it. It’s one of those songs that crawls into your ear, makes its impact and stays there, beautiful and haunting, but unassuming. It isn’t like other tracks on the album say Ophelia or Cleopatra where you hear it and then have to repeatedly listen to it and know every word. With this song, there’s something about the way it makes me feel. It’s that song you come back to (or that comes back to you) when you need it most.”