A Song. A Kiss. And a Comet.
My son – he’s 14 and has a record player…because Kanye now makes money on vinyl. The albums are all sorts of colors, even see-through. I explained to him that albums went away because they get scratched, broken…and they can’t be played well in the car while driving. Then he reminded me that he has the same songs on his iPhone, which is great when convenience is his priority. And, he has CD’s. He’s been buying them up – but get this – he does NOT even have a CD player!
Okay, I will admit that it is a pretty cool looking blue
That’s where I come in. It won’t be a surprise for him when Santa brings a CD player this year. He knows it's coming – and I’m down with it because I still have all my Van Halens, U2s, UB40s, and a ton of others. Come Christmas morning, we’ll take turns torturing one another – he’ll hit me with Travis Scott, and I’ll return fire with Guns N’ Roses. I am in prep mode for this – listening to all my old beats on Pandora while driving to and from my office.
For the first time in a long time – no sports radio, no podcast, no audiobook. It’s been all music. Isn’t it strange how when we take breaks from things – we can more appreciate them upon their return? As the songs played, I thought about why I liked them…or not. I decided it comes down to one of three things…the lyrics, the beats, or the memories kicked up by one or both. When Say You, Say Me came out, the lyrics made absolutely no sense to me…because I was 12. But the memory of Melanie Rimmer kissing me at the 7th grade dance at Gaskill Junior High School to Lionel’s voice – 40 years have passed, and the memory is still there.
One of my playlists includes the song Pumped Up Kicks. I used to like the beat – then I paid attention to the lyrics. Then the song just had to be skipped – because even with its catchy beat…it sucks. It’s about a school shooter. I know that there is a heart-wrenching story behind Foster the People’s decision to write it. Amazing work. Sad stuff. It sounds so great – you want to dance to it – but you can’t. Even Born in the USA is about a beaten-down veteran who comes home just to get beaten on some more. Yet most people think it's an anthem. Great beat – tough lyrics.
I hit a couple of songs that I loved because the lyrics told a part of my story – some good, some bad, like Mr. Brightside. We Bills fans love the music and can’t wait to hear it at this year’s Super Bowl. So great. But you can also imagine that, when my wife had the kids' soccer coach move in with her, my step kids, and her parents – while we were still married – the lyrics to Mr. Brightside made all the sense in the world. Not so great. Not long after that mess, I was at the Sphere in Las Vegas with Bono belting out Beautiful Day. Oh man, does that song make me happy. I need to make it a point to listen to it when I wake up… every day from here on out.
Here is how that all started - not easy to get 80,000 to agree on one song
When I connect with a song, I can listen to it again, and again, and again. And to make my point, one more time after that. One summer in the mid-90s, my friend Steve and I were on a road trip from Pittsburgh, PA, heading back home to Niagara Falls. I sat in the passenger seat of his gold Pontiac Bonneville (a.k.a. The Bonny). He got the one with the supercharger, leather seats, automatic windows, and most importantly, the CD player. Off to my right, I could see the Hale-Bopp Comet in the sky. He didn’t like it, but once in a while I’d put my feet up on the dash, and he’d flip out on me.
There’s one of two reasons he let me drive for a little while. One was to keep my feet off the dash. The other was that he could man the CD player. Another point of contention on that trip was the number of times I’d played the song I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For by U2. At one point, he was screaming at me to stop playing it. It was his own CD, and I swear he was about one second away from throwing it out the window. That’s the song for me. It was then, and it still is today.
It's the perfect blend of harmony and beat + the lyrics I jive with. I have three favorite bands, and U2 is both number one and number two. Van Halen gets the three spot. Sometimes the song is about religion, and at other times it's about other people…certain people. It’s about a lifetime, and a lifestyle. About a hope, a dream. It’s about a person I haven’t met yet, one I have met, and one who doesn’t exist. It’s about a chase that never ends – it just keeps going.
When I found that Luca had that song in his playlist – and he listens to it too – well…that made this Dad smile. And there it is – the real magic of music. You can go through decades of living, heartbreak, rebuilding, reinvention, and somehow land on the same track as your kid.
I think it's kinda funny…we’re in two completely different stages of life. He’s at the beginning of everything, figuring out who he is. I’m creeping around the middle now, thinking about how this all winds down. But we’ve got this one song that hits us both in the same place.
Music can cut through the noise, past the mistakes, past the regrets, past whatever we’re carrying around – and remind me that Melanie Rimmer chewed chocolate mint bubble gum. Or of a comet hanging over a Pennsylvania road while my bestie threatens to frisbee his own CD out the window. And sometimes it feels like the butterflies in my stomach while in Las Vegas with Bono belting It’s a Beautiful Day, and believing him.
No longer on the shelves - but you might find some stuck to the bottom of a desk in Niagara Falls, NY
On Christmas morning, it’ll be a 14-year-old kid with a CD player, playing songs that are awful to me – awesome to him. His lyrics. His chords. His ears. His memories. Just some crappy songs on a Beautiful Day.