Mix Tapes

I was going through all the blank, unlabeled CDs that I have lying around today, and wondered what I had put on them. To sate my curiosity, I took the whole 11 inch stack out to my car, and began pressing the Seek button. Oh man. I remember the names I used to give these mix tapes (CDs, whatever). One that I put in that was chock full of Hot Hot Heat and Relient K was called You Have Died of Cholera, that I gave to Isabella a few years ago. One opened with Boston's Don't Look Back that is called Only Listen To This on Days that End in Y. I popped in several that I made in the middle of a relationship with Oasis' Wonderwall gently leading into Cake's Love You Madly, and peppered with inside joke songs like The Set Up (You Need This) by Reel Big Fish and the ever sing-along-able Come on Eileen by Dexy's Midnight Runners. A few mysterious discs later I happened upon the epic break up CD that begins with Oasis' Wonderwall and finishes with the Ryan Adams version. Sandwiched in between are songs like Prove My Love by the Violent Femmes, Dylan's Most Likely You Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine from Blonde on Blonde, I'll Be Your Mirror by the Velvet Undeground & Nico, and If We Can Land a Man on the Moon, Surely I Can Win Your Heart by Beulah.

Making mixes is so cathartic. They don't always have to be for emotional reasons. Road trip mixes are some of the best, with the funky bass lines and driving beats. Party mixes with Warren Zevon inevitably making an appearance, and Otis Redding showing up right toward the end when you know everyone's just buzzed enough to sing along in their best soul voices. I can't help but love to make cheesy ballad mixes, laden with fuzzy guitar and early 90s boy-whine. I make mixes for when I go on long walks, usually with ambient music that seems to take me out of the world, like Sigur Ros or Sufjan Stevens. Actually, Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted suits me for a dreamworld walk, with its shivery ache, and its ridiculous poetic lyrics rolling off Malkmus' tongue with surfer boy ease.

I listened to a mix I made a couple years ago on one really memorable day when the seasons were turning and we all wanted to drive up to Boulder to climb a mountain, get some ice cream, and watch the sun drip down into a navy blue night. That mix is special because it has songs for each of the people in the car, with a Spice Girls Wannabe thrown in, Ocean Man by Ween, Turn Turn Turn by the Byrds, R.E.M's Talk About the Passion, Roll to Me by Del Amitri, and a few tracks off Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morissette.

It's a testament to musicians and music fans that the former can create out of nothing and the latter can create further from that creation. It's as though musicians wrote the language so we could tell our story.

Sitting in my car today with my feet up on the dash while a squirrel idly scurried up the tree under which my car was parked while I listened to the stories of my past was a pretty great way to spend some time realizing how very much I am made up of memories. At the same time, sometimes a CD is just a CD, and you've got to move it along to make room for some new beats to drive to, and new harmonies to sing. I'll be the Mamas, you be the Papas, and we'll prepare to face Monday, Monday with new eyes and ears.

Erase/Rewind- The Cardigans