I can remember the first 2 albums I ever received. Simultaneously, I got Dookie by Green Day, and Licensed to Ill by the Beastie Boys. From that moment forward, I was hooked. Judging by the fact that Dookie was released on February 1, 1994, and I got the tapes for Christmas, I can confidently say that day was December 25, 1994.
I'm just realizing that it's kind of crazy that my parents bought me a Beastie Boys album when I was 10. Maybe that's why I loved them so much.
I can still picture the Dookie tape in my hands, with that blue plastic covering. I distinctly remember the cover art, and the lyrics, and how they were written and crossed out and written again. I spent HOURS staring at that cover art. It's amazing how I could spend so much time doing things like that, and still had time to do anything else. Now, I barely scrape my body off the sheets in the morning, go to work, and barely have time for anything at night. I miss spending hours listening to the same album over and over, and doing nothing else. If I listen to music now, I have to be doing something else, because who has time to listen to music and do nothing else?
My original thought for this post was about having a soundtrack to my life. It always hits me when I'm in a subway station. I see all these people mumbling to themselves, getting pissed at absolutely nothing. And I'm doing everything in my power to keep from dancing and singing at the top of my lungs. And I wonder, do you think everyone else would be happier if they were listening to Santa Monica by Everclear right now? Or Carousel by Blink182? Or Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd?
I think they would be.
But then I think, well what makes me be lucky enough to play DJ and pick the music? Wouldn't everyone else's music be playing together at the same time and sound like shit? An eclectic mix of my mid 90's rock mixed with Lady Gaga, Bruce Hornsby, Jay Z and a touch of Shania Twain? And then I think, no. Because this is my game, and you're going to listen to my soundtrack, because my soundtrack kicks a lot of ass.
By the way, I had to look up how to spell Shania. That is messed up.
Music gives me chills. A certain note, a great riff, an amazing ending. All these things can hit my ear just right, and before I know it, I'm squirming like I have a shiver. Thanks to Fenway Park, I can't help but scream the words to Sweet Caroline whenever I hear it. How else can you get that reaction from a Neil Diamond song, other than having 35,000 drunken fans screaming it during the 8th inning of every home Red Sox game? It's all about experiences and memories with music. A song will come on the radio that I haven't heard in 10 years, but I can remember exactly where I was when that song came on a certain mix tape as I was rollerblading to my buddy's house.
Rollerblading was ok in 1997 if you were 13, I swear. I took the breaks off so I looked cooler.
Someday I think I may just carry a boom box on my shoulder like the Fresh Prince, and let everyone else know what I'm listening to. I think I'm really on to something here. I can make people happy with my music choices.
Music doesn't make everyone happy. But I think everyone else just doesn't have my soundtrack yet.