I heard these three songs on my way in to the office this morning: “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” (U2), “Find the River” (REM), and “Release” (Pearl Jam). Think the universe is trying to tell me something?
Songs
Hey Hey
Yes, I really am.
Like the Ceiling (and Car) Can’t Hold Her
Even when you know that your kids are very different from each other, it’s still interesting when you see it crystallize in an instant, as they react night-and-day differently. To wit:
Riding in the car last weekend, my daughter asked me to turn it to one of “her” radio stations. My kids have recently taken over the car stereo in a different way than in the old days, when we would pop in a Wiggles CD and know that we had at least 30 minutes of a happy back seat. These days, she has certain radio stations she likes and has proclaimed as “hers”, and if you live in Seattle you can probably guess what stations those are.
I changed the channel. We were in luck! Both daughter and son were happy. It was a song they both liked. (This is significant, I swear. But then Macklemore is the great common ground anyway, yes? At least in my house it is. They always agree on it, and we listen to the [non-edited] album all the time, meaning that – yes, my kids have heard the “F” word. Oops.)
Daughter: “YES! Hey, can we roll the windows down so that everyone can hear what song we are listening to when we drive by?”
Son: “NO! I hate it when people do that. Then everyone would hear us.”
Daughter: “I know. That’s the point.” (with accompanying eye roll)
I chuckled and took a deep breath as their upcoming teen years flashed before my eyes. And although I consider myself to be somewhere at the midpoint of their differing views, I did not, ultimately, roll down the windows.
I’d Choose Creme Brulee
I have a new favorite misinterpretation of a song lyric. This time, it’s from my own family:
At her request, I made my daughter a mix CD. I picked a bunch of songs and let her listen to them, then she picked which ones should make the final cut. It’s an eclectic mix that isn’t entirely grade-school appropriate, from Dispatch to The Beastie Boys, John Denver (!!!), and Kid-n-Play. I even indulged her and downloaded a Katy Perry song from iTunes, which I have lived to regret.
One of her favorites on the CD is a Michael Franti song, “Hello Bonjour”. She likes the catchy rhythm, and I think the song has a lovely message.
The opening line is: “I don’t need a passport/to walk on this earth/anywhere I go ’cause I was made of this earth”.
The other day, she was singing along in her room, organizing little treasures on top of her desk, in the way that only little girls do. Suddenly the door opened and she stuck her head into the hallway: “Mom, is he saying ‘I am made of DESSERT’?”
So sweet and funny, that little girl of mine. She just might be made of dessert.
Watch It Unravel, I’ll Soon Be Naked
In my kitchen yesterday, my husband shot me a sideways, slightly disgusted glance as I put on my sweater. “What?” I said. “It’s my favorite sweater”. I don’t blame him for looking at me disgustingly — the sweater is old and gross. It zips up the front and has a hood, has pilling up and down the arms, and probably has holes somewhere. But it’s comfy and cozy, and putting it on requires no decision-making.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “You’re like that Weezer song about the sweater”.
Now, here’s where it gets weird. (And I just love this kind of stuff). I haven’t heard that song in probably ten years, easily. On my way to the gym today, what comes on the radio other than…..The Sweater Song by Weezer.
AND, as if that isn’t enough, here’s the kicker: the name of that song is actually “Undone”. I got back in the car after my workout, only to hear “Undone” by Pearl Jam. Spooky Monday! Not enough to make me stop wearing the sweather, though.
You Know I Would
My six year old daughter has a new favorite song. She asks for it every time we get in the car, and I am happy to play it, especially if it holds off any discovery of Miley Cyrus for at least a few more years.
Luckily, I have three versions of “Out Loud” by Dispatch…ranging from acoustic to a raucous live version with a children’s choir, to suit her every mood (and mine). She knows all the words and sings them with a sweet little toothless grin.
She doesn’t know it, but I love watching her when music is on. No matter what she’s doing, if it’s a song she likes, she’ll start grooving in a mindless, automatic kind of way. She’ll give her opinion on any song, and her favorites are usually some of mine too. Is she going to be the barefoot dancing girl in the flowy skirt at concerts 15 years from now? I don’t know, but I sure love that she loves music too.
Today I listened to Out Loud without her around and suddenly it hit me, enough to bring tears to my eyes:
“If you were out walking, heard the cold night coming, would you call my name, cause you know I’d come running.”
No longer just a profession of love, this song has become, to me, an anthem to a mom’s love, and her kids growing up way too fast. At least for now, both of my kids will still hold my hand in public, and I treasure it every time.
Pantry Blues
Ever had a song that convinces you that you are a good singer? Well, let me tell you that if Eddie and the boys ever need a backup singer for “Nothingman”, I am their girl. On the Live on Two Legs version, I sound awesome. I do the harmonies, and I can belt it out with urgent conviction.
Of course, that’s how it sounds in my head. The key is to have the music loud enough that you can’t actually hear yourself very well. If I had a set of those headphones that real singers wear, I would probably be horrified.
In my car though, I sound great. And in my kitchen, I’m at the top of my game. Must be the high ceilings – acoustics, you know. Then I walk into the pantry, and the dream is over.
We’ve Got a Thing, and it’s Called..
Radar Love. In the car coming home from Costco today. One of the best driving songs ever, hands down. But what it really reminds me of, instantaneously – 1992 Apple Cup, Pullman. The Drew Bledsoe year.
Freezing cold in butt-deep snow, we ended up in The Cavern, which, if memory serves, was a bar…on campus(?)
By the second half, the game was of no interest to any UW fan. We danced, we spun, with the game on in the background. A Coug stole my Husky hat and probably did unspeakable things with it.
The game wore on…we lost, convincingly. By this time, the jukebox was playing Pearl Jam, and in our Seattle-centric, drunkenly superior mindset, we taunted the Coug fans: yeah, you cowboy hicks, you might have won the game, but we’ve got Eddie Vedder.
Corduroy Notes 