My Memories Have A Soundtrack

I love music. It manipulates my emotions, makes me happy, sad, bitter, jubilant, vengeful, whimsical, and sometimes even horny. The melodies tap into my subconscious, the vocals tug away at my memory bank. I dream in music; I think in music. And most of all, I remember in music. My entire history has a soundtrack. I reminisce through bass lines and contemplate with singable choruses. And I steal it all, hide it away for my own selfish purposes.

“You’re So Last Summer” was written by Taking Back Sunday, performed by Taking Back Sunday, conceived by Taking Back Sunday, but it’s no longer their song. I’ve pirated it. It’s mine, a living, breathing, part of me. When I was sixteen years old, my buddies and I drove around in a minivan every weekend. We pounded shots of cheap vodka and smoked pot. We streaked through supermarkets. We snorted cinnamon Altoids. We felt way cooler than we were. And through it all, we listened to “You’re So Last Summer.” It was our anthem, our call to arms, and five years later, whenever I hear it, I’m sixteen again, runnin’ amuck about town with my best friends.

“One” was written by Metallica, performed by Metallica, conceived by Metallica, but it’s no longer their song. Three of my best friends played it as their encore during Battle Of The Bands my senior year of high school. They ran out of time and were cut off with less than a minute left. Those last forty-five seconds no longer exist. They’re replaced by fifteen seconds of silence, followed by a barely audible “What the fuck?” mumble from my friend Drew, irate that anyone would cut him off after nailing the solo.

“Breathe (2 AM)” was written by Anna Nalick, performed by Anna Nalick, conceived by Anna Nalick, but it’s no longer her song. Two years ago, I spent everyday with the sweetest, most beautiful woman I’m likely to ever know. We’d drive around in my car, listening to the radio and bullshitting about life. “Breathe” was huge at the time, and every few hours it’d come on. She’d smile, ever so contently, and whisper, “Aww...I love this song.” I hated it. I’d roll my eyes and stare out the window. Now, I too love it because it’s no longer Anna’s song. It’s mine. It’s my link to that pretty girl, and those first few chords are drowned out by Miss Amy whispering, “Aww...I love this song.”

“My Friends Over You” was written by New Found Glory, performed by New Found Glory, conceived by New Found Glory, but it’s no longer their song. My sophomore year the best tennis player at our school, a senior, asked me to go play golf with him. I’d never really hung out with him before, but I secretly thought he was infinitely cool and jumped at the chance. He picked me up in his jeep, which humorously, had an N.F.D. decal. We listened to “My Friends Over You” during the two and a half minute drive to the course. We smoked pot. He shot 39. I shot 39. Within a year, he washed ashore in Amsterdam–wet and lifeless. So it goes. I can still hear him asking if I like the song during the chorus.

“Hero” was written by Enrique Iglesias, performed by Enrique Iglesias, conceived by Enrique Iglesias, but it’s no longer his song. I was in my room, making out with a free-spirited, sexually-experienced nineteen year old. She pulled down her panties and whispered, “I want you so badly.” Enrique Iglesias was singing in the background. I can be your hero, baby. I can kiss away the pain. I clumsily got it in and immediately felt older, somehow. My palms still perspire during the first few notes; I can still see her atop my bed.

One of my friends drove two hundred miles in a desperate attempt to win back the first girl he ever loved. He serenaded her with Something Corporate’s “Konstantine.” She laughed at him. I used to listen to “Touch Of Grey” on the way to high school everyday. I did coke lines off a Jennifer Lopez CD. I sang “Tiny Dancer” at three-thirty in the morning with five of my future best friends on my first night of college. I got my first lap dance to “Runaway Train.”

These and thousands of other songs belong to me. I’ve hijacked ‘em. I’ll never ever give ‘em back. And that is why I love music.


RELATED: taking back sunday, metallica, anna nalick, new found glory, something corporate, grateful dead, jennifer lopez, elton john, enrique iglesias

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