I've never mastered the art of the mix tape or the like. Since my Salt N Pepa days (that's what I will just call of the late eighties, okay? Just a wash of so much hair, so many pleats, so little restraint), I have been waiting for technology to accommodate my inability to cull... when oh when will cassettes hold 90+ songs, because I must have it all. And finally in the great year of 2014 (I'm sure this was possible long before now, but...) digital playlists oblige my more is more motto, and I'm still wondering if that Lisa Lisa song will sound better between Bob Dylan or Yo La Tengo. Because I must have it all.
Truthfully, this only gets harder as we grow older because more songs trigger more memories. In fact, I'm now at age where I actually like hearing songs that are not necessarily associated with a fond memory because it just makes me remember things. I like remembering. I like hearing that Billy Joel song and almost reliving the sting of the jelly fish from some prompted recollection of a childhood summer on Jones Beach. Or remembering the traumatic burn of kite string on a park date with my uncle in 1984, each and every time I eat pistachio ice cream (the flavor of sweet convalescence). Even the sound of (in my opinion) the very terrible Steve Miller Band makes me smile as I think about terrible ex-boyfriends and their terrible pick up trucks. God knows the smell of fresh cut Christmas trees will always make me nauseous (vivid scents during morning sickness with Fiona), or the sound of John Candy and Steve Martin discussing balls in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles send a chill down my spine (the movie that was playing in the background while I received an epidural). Sounds and tastes and smells, good and bad, all sit somewhere in the back of my brain's, our brains', ever growing playlists.
Some of my favorite people are moving away this weekend. They know music better than anyone, and even so I feel compelled to give them a poorly art-directed mix. (I figured I'd share with anyone else who is interested too. xoxo)
Robyn, Bobby- here's a blend of songs that remind us of you, or songs we've heard together with friends over wine, or songs that I hope you will play when you miss the South (because I know you will). It's the soundtrack to our family's index of memories with you three. And some are just there because I like them; because I still haven't learned that less is more. Consider it the audio version of the chocolate torte we will eat with you guys when we visit you in Denver- it's rich and sweet and almost too much. We love you.