On the day I finished work my dear friend met me at the door and escorted me out. Well, escorted is perhaps too strong a word. We danced out. I danced out the door of my workplace of eighteen years to the tune of ’These Boots Were Made For Walking’. The song will now forever have the power to make me stand taller, feel strong and shed a tear or two! She had made me a playlist of songs that reflected her feelings about me leaving and her encouragement for me in my next life. It’s an eclectic mix ranging from musicals to country to contemporary pop. I have listened to that playlist over and over and over (sorry, Ian, too much on long trips?) laughed a lot and cried a little and it will continue to have space in the download setting on my music app.
Music is magical and can transcend time. It takes you to a place and the life you were living when you first heard it even as you walk through your ‘now’. Whenever I hear Kate Ceberano’s Brave I am immediately transported back to breakfast radio just after my 6.30am alarm, my teenage bedroom, 1989. I had to buy the album. On that tape I found songs like Quasimodo’s Dream and became a lifelong Kate fan thanks to that entree into her music. Brave is still on my Happy Singing playlist that I listen to (and sing loudly to) in the car. Those Boots Are Made For Walkin’ now has a new association for me, one that I will always love. Last day of work, walking through allied health, no tears, waiting for the lift to take me up and out into the world.
I grew up in a house full of music. Dad would pick up his guitar on Sunday mornings and find a spot to sit and just play and sing for hours. My sisters and I would wander in and out and join him or listen. Our deep love of classic 1960’s rock comes from him. Hearing my daughter rediscover these old classics surprises me and also brings me comfort. Those songs won’t do her wrong!!! There was always music playing on the big record player we weren’t meant to touch in case we bumped it and the needle scratched the precious vinyl disc.
We were suspicious of tapes for a while (unnecessary waste of money) until I received a radio cassette recorder for my tenth birthday with a tape from Young Talent Time. I remember spending my hard earned pocket money on my first music – a double cassette set of hits called Breakdance 2. My disappointment when I found it to be all covers by unknown singers still stings to this day! CDs entered my life on my 18th birthday with another album double set. This time I made sure it was real, Billy Joel, Piano Man. Headphones entered the house somewhere between the two celebrations as the ability to listen to our own choice of music changed our experience from a family affair into a personal endeavour.
Hiding in my wardrobe is a black box. Those of a certain age will recognise it. It’s a cassette box. Two drawers full of ‘old school’ tapes. Some bought (Whispering Jack, This Road, ) and others copies made from family records (The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Cat Stevens) or friends’ CDs (Prince). And then, the mix tape. For the young ones playing along a mix tape is a playlist. While I never sat by the radio taping the Top 40 (though I did fall in love with Kasey Kasem’s voice!) I have plenty of compilations made just for me.
Since coming home I have pulled out that box of cassettes and played many of those favourites old school. I’d forgotten the slightly tinny quality music on a cassette can get when it’s been played a lot or that very particular anxious whine that comes into the music when the tape begins to stretch. Somehow it doesn’t detract from my enjoyment of the music and I sing along to it anyway. It’s not a ‘real’ tape player for it has bluetooth capability and I can walk around with headphones one that are not attached by a cord to the player (we didn’t call it a ‘device’ then so I won’t now!). The CD collection has been unpacked in my library and are also on high rotation. I love that neither method of playing music requires wifi. They can’t be interrupted by an incoming call or a notification or by the voice of a cheeky child broadcasting a request for drinks/food/a lift into town.
I have always loved getting hold of a new album by a favourite singer. In the past I was alerted to it by the appearance of a new release on high rotation on the radio. I’d hear it a couple of times and, if I liked it, I could go and get the album (if I could bear to spend the money, a whole other issue entirely that severely restricted the growth of my music collection). On that album would be up to twelve other songs I had to listen to in order. Yes. The same order every single time. I know! I can’t hear Englishman in New York without being ready to follow up with History Will Teach Us Nothing. That’s the order they are ALWAYS in. I’m unsettled when my music is played on shuffle. It’s just not right!
My experience of a mixtape was an intentional collection of songs you were already familiar with and have built a relationship with over time. Something you had either paid money for or by chance recorded off the radio at the right time. Now, ah, now we can get ALL the music, ALL the time. And now we get to make playlists.
“Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do’s and don’ts. First of all you’re using someone else’s poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing.“
Rob Gordon in the 2000 film “High Fidelity,” based on the novel by Nick Hornby
I have found other bloggers exploring the question and most agree that that are a few rules about recreating the mixtape experience with an online service. They make a lot of sense.
- Restrict the length of time (ten songs, one hour)
- Never shuffle the order
- Create an experience
- Target a (your) person
- Never, ever change the order of the songs
I love that. Don’t change the order. Even though the online services make moving the songs around so simple you can do it without a second thought… but don’t do it. This was a strength of the original cassette mixed tape. It took a long time to create and, as the space on the tape was strictly limited, you had to think very hard about which were the perfect songs to go on it. The order of the songs had meaning. Moving songs in a playlist around willy-nilly would be like taking a chapter out of a favourite novel, sliding it into a different place in the book and thinking the story will still flow and make sense!
One of the books I had waited for for years is Bittersweet by Susan Cain (she of ‘Quiet, the Power of Introverts’, never underestimate us!). I do love her way of seeking to explain things she knows intuitively but wants to find the words for, a woman after my own heart! Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole is her effort to explain why she listens to sad music to feel renewed, joyous and vital. I get it, that feeling, it’s why I listen and sing from the heart to songs like Hallelujah and Amazing Grace. If you’re curious I can highly recommend the book. If you already ‘get it’ then head straight to the playlist she made to accompany the book. Hallelujah is there, along with so many other beautiful songs that will fill you with inexplicable, bittersweet joy.
Creating a playlist for someone is a gift of such magnitude and meaning I can’t imagine a much more personal message. The time taken, the thoughts captured, the emotions shared. It’s a triumph of friendship, love and pure heart.
ABBA says it best. Thank you for the music. Now off you go. Put on that favourite tape/CD/vinyl/playlist and sing. Loudly. And then smile. I’m off to play some Jeff Buckley followed by Debra Byrne. That’s it, beautiful. 🙂
Love this so much. I have many songs that take me back to another time. I can be transformed back to my grade 6 camp (clearly a very very long time ago 😬), the lady bay hotel in Warnambool (no longer there), my cousins funeral (taken way too young 😔), just to mention a few.
It’s so powerful, isn’t it??? And somehow reassuring to know you can be transported so immediately and completely to memories you didn’t know were so clear.