Month: August 2011

The Beginning of the Soundtrack

/ Deb / 2 Comments

Thirteen years ago this morning, I awoke in a hotel room, walked tentatively to the window and opened the blinds, and was relieved to see a perfectly blue August sky.  We had planned an outdoor wedding on the side of a mountain at a spot we had both fallen in love with, and there was no contingency plan for bad weather.  The gamble, thankfully, had paid off.

A few hours later, I cruised LBJ (‘Little Black Jetta’) down I-90 with my sisters, wedding dress laid across the back seat….Dave Matthews Band “Live at Red Rocks”, disc one.  My car didn’t have a CD player, but, being the resourceful type, I had taped my CD so that I could listen in the car:  Seek Up, Proudest Monkey……Two Step, with my favorite jam in the middle.   My husband hates those jams that make the song drag on forever; just one of our many differences that help us to balance each other.

12:00pm is not exactly the time for a dancy, party kind of wedding.  Our plan was to get hitched, have some food and cake, then get the heck out of Dodge and fly to San Francisco for the night, before heading out the next morning on our Italian honeymoon.

No dance floor, but I did feel compelled to hire a DJ to play background music during the reception.  He gave me a list of suggested standards, and asked that I edit it to let him know what I wanted him to play.  I made big X’s across most of the list and gave it back to him, along with lawyerly-typed instructions of what not to play (“under NO circumstances are you to play that Celine Dion song from ‘Titanic'”).  Looking back on it, I suppose it was a little Bridezilla-ish, but why did he give me a list if he didn’t want input on it?   During the reception, he sat solemnly off to the side of the bar.  Someone must have requested an obnoxious song, because I learned later that he was overheard explaining “sorry, I’m just here to play background music”.

The weather held.  I did not slip on the grass while walking down the aisle.  We made promises to each other in front of our family and friends, Mount Si bearing witness in the background.

Hours later, we were whisked away to the airport by our oldest and dearest friend, who had been my husband’s best man.  Sunburned and shiny, we boarded the plane, and the adventure began.  What a trip it’s been so far….and always with background music.

Alive….Encore Break

/ Deb / 2 Comments

Twenty years, holy cow.  Pearl Jam’s “Alive” was released as a single on August 2, 1991.  In honor, it feels like maybe it’s time to release this one from the vault.

Originally written in 2003, it was, in a lot of ways, the precursor to what would later become Corduroy Notes (figured out the origin of the name yet?  Let me know if you have a guess).

And, by way of update, I still can’t believe that I almost broke up with Pearl Jam.  The career drama is a now a mere footnote, and I am thankful to be back in contact with my friend — we still talk PJ, and scratch our heads at the fact that 20 years have passed since our first show.

I’m Still Alive

 Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about music. It’s funny how, while a recording preserves a musical performance, a song also serves to record the events that occur in our lives.

“Dust in the Wind” will forever be a darkened Stevens Junior High cafeteria, and a dance with an older 9th grade boy whom I had a major crush on.  Bobby Brown’s “My Prerogative” = a McMahon Hall lounge, new friends, and the first time I ever saw a beer bong. Likewise, though, other artists have been entirely ruined for me just by their association with bad memories: The Steve Miller Band, Jimmy Buffet, and Hootie & the Blowfish all have found their way into this category (no great losses there).

Which brings up an interesting part of the ending of a relationship: the question of who gets custody of the music. Not the physical CD’s and albums, but the memories associated with them, the ownership of those times. For awhile, I thought that Pearl Jam would find its way into the Steve Miller-Jimmy Buffet-Hootie camp. When a long-term friendship ended a few years ago, I didn’t listen to Eddie and the boys for a long, long time. It was too painful; nearly every song represented some memory of the “us” that was no longer – all the Pearl Jam shows we had attended together, and the Seattle music mania that had gripped us both so many years earlier.

Ultimately, I realized that I could take ownership of those memories and experiences for myself, with or without him in my life. Of course, maybe it was the music that made me do it — giving up The Steve Miller Band is one thing. Giving up Pearl Jam is quite another.

Like many others, I own the entire Pearl Jam catalog, and I love it all. But one song still endures as my favorite. “Alive” was their first song to hit the airwaves, and I was a senior in college at UW — that time in the early 90’s when, as Seattle-centric twenty-somethings, we believed that Seattle had become the center of the music universe (and maybe it was, for awhile).

I remember the first few times that I heard “Alive” – this song, this band – I was hooked right away. I talked to my L.A.-based boyfriend, and asked him if he had heard this new song – from some band named Pearl Jam, and they were from…. Seattle!  Where I lived! I tried to sing the song to him to see if he recognized it. He didn’t. At least not yet.

Since then, I have always had a special relationship with “Alive”. It seems to show up when I need it most — little blips on the radar screen of my life. I vividly remember getting off the bus, opening my mailbox and finding my law school acceptance letter – while listening to it on my Walkman. Three years later, driving home on the day my Bar Exam results were to arrive, there it was again. And again, after a particularly bad job interview, while lost in downtown Seattle in my half-broken-down car in the rain, there was Eddie on the radio, singing my song.

These days, the Seattle music craze has long passed, and you really don’t hear old Pearl Jam on the radio very much anymore, even here in Seattle.

Recently, my husband and I were having lunch and discussing my latest career drama: whether I should leave my law firm, do something else, or quit working entirely and stay home with our 8 month-old son. I was stressed out, and questioning whether I wanted to practice law anymore. I realized that I was at a crossroads — with not just my needs to consider, but that of my son and our little family.

On my way back from lunch, my husband called me. “Turn on 107.7”, he said.

There it was: Eddie Vedder, belting out the anthem of my youth, all at once giving me a glimpse of the girl I was ten years ago, how far I had come, and reminding me that, as always, things will work out as they should.

I turned up the stereo, rolled down my window, and sang along.