For years, M. and I have experienced music together. On cassette in her fiero in the lovely days of high school. This black and gold beauty came equipped with speakers in the seat head rests. It was built for maximum music enjoyment. And, as a two-seater, it was up close and personal.
She had the car and yes, I had the cassettes--a green and white striped canvas bag with a cinch top to hold our 100+ tapes. As we speak, she's trying to claim that SHE introduced me to the music, but I'll leave that alone for now. Let's discuss some of our favorites: Tangerine by Zep, Twenty Five Miles by Edwin Starr, Summertime by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, Let's Get it On by Marvin, Hunger Strike by Temple of the Dog (I was Eddie Vedder and M. was a stellar Chris Cornell), and dedicated to one of M.'s Exes - Mr. Big. There were many, many more of which in future posts, we'll wax poetically, but for now you get the gist.
In these younger days, I commanded the tunes and M. commanded the wheel. She without question was a BA of BA drivers. (for those of you that don't know what BA is first off you're stupid and secondly it means BAD ASS). I didn't drive at this point being the youngster of our group, but learned irreverently from her style ---cigs, big gulp, excessive speeds, a car that handled like it was on rails, and the tunes.
We were a team...a one car, two person, high impact duo equipped for a wide range of entertainment from drive bys to drive ins. As we got older, the fiero got traded in and the cassette tapes now affectionately reside in my storage shed--green bag and all. They were replaced by CDs and then of course tracks on the pod.
As the media changed, the DJ changed as well. Parties ensued and it was clear that m. and I had totally divergent styles. As she likes to say, my choices in music make her want to kill herself. And, for me....m. never leaves a friggin' song on for longer than 30 seconds. I get Bill Withers singing "Aint no sunshine when she's..." interrupted abruptly by Lyle Lovett ugly crooning "she's no lady, she's my wife."
It seems that with the ease of clicking forward a track, we are no longer accustomed to just waiting it out like we were with the pesky thread of cassette tape. Oh how I miss that sound....that high pitched, squealing of the tape as it rolled through the lyrics. Tapes made you work for it. And, when you wait, you get to know your music, you get close...intimate. Now, we can be careless about our transition and cut off songs before they've really had a chance to make their mark.
(she's actually doing it as we speak)
Imagine hitting the jump before you heard:
"you cant always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need"
or
that last clap in let's get it on before marvin closes it out. it's slight and small, but it's there and wraps it all up and puts a nice bow on it.
for m., none of this necessarily means anything. And, for me, as the recipient of her fickle DJ style, I am left feeling awkward and distant....like if I commit to the music and let it in, it's just gonna forget me in 30 seconds and leave me hangin'.
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