Random melodic musings

I’m a sucker for cowbells. Accordions too. Clapping as a percussion tool, fiddles, even kazoos – if a song contains one of these elements, there’s a reasonably good chance I’ll like it. And anyone who knows me and my love of Rocket from the Crypt knows that I love me a good horn section too.

All these melodic musings stem from the fact that right now I’m sitting at my desk listening to a song I honestly haven’t heard in 10 years. Despite the length of time, the minute I heard the opening chords, I audibly sighed and said “Oh, I love this song!” and found myself sucked back into 1996. Literally. I swear if someone walked in on me right now they’d think I’d gone to some other world.

I’m always amazed at the ability music has to evoke such strong emotions and memories in me. For many songs, I have very specific and distinct memories and attached to them. Anytime I hear Kylie Minogue, I’m instantly transported to London, March 2003. If I hear Bob Marley on the radio, I feel like I should be driving on the 52 to the beach after school. And whenever I hear “This is the Day,” by The The, I’m back in Laura Kass’ or Steph Berry’s (formerly Hedeline) living room, watching a little-known, semi-mediocre movie called “Empire Records.” In the summer of 1997, this movie became the go-to movie for girls of a certain age, due in part to its cast of young, gorgeous starlets. “Empire Records” was a breakthrough movie for several then-unknown actors, most notably Renee Zellweger, Liv Tyler, and Anthony LaPaglia, and it tapped into the teenage dream of working in an über-hip record store, surrounded by lovable and good-looking men who secretly pine away for you. Let’s just say it hit a chord.

Now I’m not even going to get into the fact that someone was idiotic enough to name their band ‘The The.’ I’m sure the lead singer must have felt particularly profound when he pulled that name out a stoned haze. And I can’t name any other song by The The, but I will say that that “This is the Day” might be one of the great feel good songs ever put to record. An accordion, synthesizer, fiddle, and percussionary clapping – it’s a strange concoction of perfection. Seriously, if a nerdy 80s pop group and a jug band had a love child, this song would be it. And it would be one damn happy baby. Hearing the song makes me want to grab the one I love, look into their eyes and tell them how wonderful they are, and then start dancing. For other, semi-inexplicable reasons, it also makes me want to have a baby on my hip to dance around with. But I digress.

So here I am, stuck in an office, wanting to dance around but I know I can’t, lest I further the well-established stereotype here of what a Californian is.

Wait. I have a door to my office! If you’ll excuse me, I have an office dance party to attend to. But where’s a baby when you need ‘em?

An Open Letter of Apology to my Tercel

Dear Tercel:

We’ve been through a lot together over the years. As the first car I’ve ever owned (the Infiniti G20 I had from 1998-1999 was, in fact, my uncle Lon’s car on loan to me), you were sort of my vehicular training wheels (no pun intended). I’ve learned a lot from you. And even if you aren’t the prettiest or newest car on the block, by God you are reliable, and that means more to me than any of those other things.

I feel like I’ve tricked you. When you rolled off the truck at Bob Baker Toyota, fresh from the factory, you looked forward to a charmed life of mild weather and ocean breezes. The most severe weather you ever thought you’d encounter was an overabundance of sea salt. But now, in your twilight years, I’ve subjected you to the harsh New England winter, and I’m not sure you’ll ever forgive me.

Let me back up for a moment. In truth, the hard road to New England began with your cross country journey. On the final leg from New Jersey to New Haven, the truck driver ‘hit a bump too fast,’ and for reasons I still don’t quite understand, the car wasn’t tied down very well. You flew up into the roof above you and got dented all over the place. It’s ok – I’m not mad. It wasn’t your fault. You suffered the humiliation of a sagging ceiling (it’s ok dear, it happens to all of us eventually) for over two months, until the auto shippers’ insurance company finally paid to have you fixed. Now, with a fresh lift and coat of paint, you’re good as new.

But then the cold came. And boy, did it come! In all your California life, the worst you experienced was mild ice on the windshield. I left you for 11 days at Christmas, only to come home to you completely frozen shut. I heaved, pulled, and grunted until the driver side door opened with such a sickening crack that I thought my superhuman strength had broken the car door off. And to add to the comic scene, with the final burst of strength I used to open the door, the momentum of the door flying open threw me flat on my butt in the middle of the street. I looked up to see your car door still intact (no super strength after all -- damn), and devoted the next 20 minutes to removing the snow and ice from you.

To add insult to injury, all this scraping, pulling, and general chaos occurred in -9 degree weather. Yes, that’s not a typo – it was negative nine degrees. Even the brightest, most youthful car would have a hard time getting going in subzero temperatures. It took you a while to warm up (again, no fault of your own – moving slower just comes with age), but you did start, and I can’t thank you enough.

The next stop in our Connecticut journey is a trip to the DMV next week, where you and I both must rescind our California driving identity and become drivers in the Constitution State. I think it will be a sad day for both of us to say goodbye to the Golden State identity we’ve known and loved (in fact, it’s the only identity we’ve ever known), but we’ll look optimistically forward to the next chapter in our lives.

Sorry Old Gal for the shock to the system, but know that I promise to be as good to you as I can be, and I hope we’ll have a nice long run together for at least several more years. And I promise the warm weather will return. Someday.