Thursday, July 17, 2008

Rites of passage

There’s a letter on the desktop
I dug out of a drawer
The last truce we ever came to
From our adolescent war
And I start to feel the fever
From the warm air through the screen
You come regular like seasons, shadowing my dreams
I was in the shower this morning when that song popped into my head for no reason.

Ghost. By the Indigo Girls.

It’s a sweet, melancholy song that reminds me of my friend Nelson for no other reason than I loved it and included it on a mix tape for him a long, long time ago.

I haven’t been listening to music much lately because all my songs are trapped on the Home Mac and – with the new job and all – I’m spending a lotta time with the Work Mac these days. Plus, my iPod was stuffed in a drawer – out of sight and out of mind.

But this morning I dug it out and quickly found Ghost, singing it at the top of my lungs all the way to the train station.

It’s one of those songs that you actually can belt out pretty good even if you’re like me and couldn’t sing if Cuddly Wuddly Christ came back today and announced he’s saving only the True Singers of Show Tunes.
The Mississippi’s mighty
It starts in Minnesota
At a place that you could walk across
With five steps down
Rites of Passage is the album.

Yeah, it’s chick music. But it’s one of those rare CDs you can listen to all the way through. It’s in my top five for sure.

There’s something about it – whenever I’m feeling disconnected from everything that is important, it puts me back in my place.

Do you have an album like this? Music that runs like a thread through your entire adult life?
And I guess that’s how you started
Like a pin prick to my heart
But at this point you rush right through me
And I start to drown
You didn’t talk to Mom this morning on your way to the train?

Nope. Mom and Da are here from Michigan. It’s been a fabulous week and I don’t want them to leave. Ever. Ever.

It’s funny, though. She’s here, sleeping in because she’s on vacation.

And I miss her because we’re not on the phone in the mornings.
This is the part where I really give it all I’ve got for Cuddly Wuddly Christ:

And there’s not enough room in this world for my pain
Signals cross and love gets lost and time past makes it plain
Of all my demon spirits I need you the most
I’m in love with your ghost
Okay, your turn. Tell me the one song that you just have to sing at the top of your lungs whenever it’s on. And why.
I am listening to: Rites of Passage – The Indigo Girls
I am reading: New web copy
And I am: Unbelievably happy


Little Bald Bastard said...

Luckily, the songs that I have to sing are never on the radio. I have to elect to unleash them from my stash of mp3s, instead of being held captive by the whims of an anonymous music programmer. I can wait until the house is empty, and only the will pets know the horror of my singing voice.

Anonymous said...

Sometimes I get a song stuck in my head. Usually I can get it out but every now and again the song just stays stuck!
One time a song stayed stuck in my head for over three hours and I just could not get it out!!
Then I stumbled on it. A way to get any song out of your head.
All you have to do is... now pay attention... all you have to do is start singing Copa Cabana by Barry Manilow and presto! The other song is gone. Like magic!
Try it some time...
Mental Therapist Dog

Moe Wanchuk said...

Mine is a song by Aerosmith

"Big Ten Inch..........record"

Posolxstvo I said...

I have something like 5,200 songs in my Rock playlist on my iPod. I would guess that 10% of them are songs that I *must* sing out loud when I hear them -- much to my family members' collective chagrin. And I can't type up a 520 song list for you. Just too many.

A funny anecdote -- about a year ago I was driving with my windows up and I think something like "Jungle" by ELO came on. Fun song. Definitely one of my 520 songs. I was howling away at the top of my lungs. And then I glanced over at the car next to me at the stoplight. The entire collection of occupants in that car were staring at me, mouths agape in horror. Honest horror. It was the funniest thing I have seen in a long time.

Before that, it never occurred to me that someone outside the car might be able to hear me with the windows up...

Susan said...

4 Non Blondes - What's suits my voice and I love some of the lyrics....

25 years and my life is still
I'm trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination...

although soon I will have to change the years they sing about times two.


Hedy said...

Pos - GREAT story, thanks.