my brother kyle, though i will never tell him this since his arrogance is never going to dwindle, is by far the most talented writer that i have ever known. even better than some of the books that i have read. today after downloading some more music the "low disc space" warning showed up so i had to go through my computer trying to find documents to delete.. and my computer used to be the whole families computer before we all got our own, and i found a file with my brother's documents in there.. so i was going through them being the nosy little sister that i am, reading everything from his old assignments to his poetry and rants.. and what im about to post up here is one of his rants.. about music. and i think it is something that many people can relate to.. i may just forget about my little shoulder angel telling me it's not right to post his poetry up here because that can pretty much be a window into someone's soul, but yet again, he did send me down the stairs in a zipped up suitcase when i was little... but ya.. enjoy.. 

Whether played softly in the background or played loudly in the foreground, music fills our lives, often acting as a reference point for our memories. Whether they be events, people or places, or even just they way you were, music is a part of it.

            The past can sometimes be a murky place, with a fuzzy complexion marred by the distances of time. But that feeling of nostalgia common to us all still hangs over many things. Whether we can clearly identify them or not, those feelings are there, they voice themselves in the ensuing years. We often look back on the old days, warmly or otherwise. The perfect piece of music for such an endeavour must be “In My Life” by the Beatles. It evokes imagery of the past without getting bogged down in the details, instead letting the essence of our memories wash over us. If I’m ever feeling sentimental, the words:

There are places I remember all my life,
Though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone, and some remain

always inspire that rush of sights, sounds and smells. It is because of the ambiguity that it works for all purposes.

            In keeping with the same artists, my first experience with death has become associated for me with the song “A Day in the Life”. In October 1993, my uncle died of a sudden heart attack, leaving behind a widow and four children. The first verse,  concerning the “lucky man who made the grade” has always managed to bring about feelings of loss and mourning. The narrator, who is reading about it in a newspaper, sees the death as just another part of daily life. This concept has affected the way I see the world, showing that one man’s tragedy is another’s soundbite.

            I’m sure that every child has a favourite movie. For me, it was Ghostbusters. A large part of the fascination had to do with the theme song. “Ghostbusters” by Ray Parker Jr.  has been ingrained in the mind of every child of the late eighties thanks to the Real Ghostbusters cartoon. Ask someone “Who ya gonna call?” and the answer will be obvious.

            During the early part of the 90’s, while most of the kids of my elementary school were following their older brothers’ lead and getting into grunge, I was hooked into the parody of Weird Al Yankovic. His yearly Al TV specials on Muchmusic were revelations for me. Who says music should be depressing? “Smells Like Nirvana” was the perfect antidote to all those grunge posers:

 Well, we don't sound like Madonna
Here we are now, we're Nirvana
Sing distinctly? We don't wanna
Buy our album, we're Nirvana
A garage band from Seattle
Well, it sure beats raising cattle
Yeah

            Another early musical direction came from the Beach Boys. With the benefit of my brother’s walkman and my dads 20 Golden Hits tape, I became enthralled with the harmonies and orchestrations. I can still remember a 1989 trip to Florida being tracked by repeated listenings to “Heroes and Villains”. I cold never make out any lyrics except for “heroes and villains, I’ve seen what you’ve done” but listening to it now and hearing it as the story of a man who survived intact with his family, just improves the song immensely. But I still see the landscape west of I-75 when I hear that song.

            Moving into my teen years, I followed the others into the cliché of adolescent moping, usually over a girl. In matters such as those, you won’t find anyone more ineffectual than I. “Creep” by Radiohead, serves its purpose for describing my teenage “pain”

I want you to notice
When I'm not around
You're so f*cking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

                Not all my musical memories are fond, though. Grade seven will forever be marred by “La Macarena.” I didn’t like it when my brother brought it back from Acapulco the year before it broke over here, and I don’t like it now. All the sheep dancing in line at the first inter-school dance at St. Matt’s in grade seven was more than enough to sour me on school dances forever. Let no more mention of that song be made, ever.

                (Seven down, three to go…) Just about everyone has a song they listen to for the summer, this past summer was marked by the alternating prominence of two Pink Floyd pieces from the album Atom Heart Mother. The first was the “Atom Heart Mother Suite”, a 25-minute collaboration with avant-garde composer Ron Geesin. The hills and valleys of that piece are beautiful counterpoints to warm summer nights in friends’ backyards. The other was “Summer ‘68”, a track bubbling with joyous energy, wonderful music but some bad lyrics.  The song seems to be about a groupie that the singer is trying to elude after they’ve “met”.  The lyrics “goodbye to you,/ Charlotte Pringle’s dew,/ I’ve had enough/ for one day” are an illustration of the largely rhythmic nature of the lyrics. Summer at its best.

                And the last goes to Bob Dylan and “Like A Rolling Stone”. In grade eleven I first discovered this song, and it changed the way I listened to music. It made me look at a song and how it affected me personally, what it says about me. Following that, Pink Floyd, The Clash, the Who etc. all became important musical forces for me. But that time I heard it on the radio, lying in bed, actually listening was a transcendental moment.