From Our Readers

The Power of Music Memory

I love how when you hear music you loved as a teenager you’re suddenly taken right back there. That was tonight on the drive home from work. Ani DiFranco, Napoleon. The track started, the volume got cranked up and I was immediately 15 again.

I may be an adult and I may have been driving on the side roads to my adult apartment, but in my mind I was just a kid again, right back in my living room hearing her Living In Clip album for the first time ever. I was falling in love with Ani DiFranco because the very first boy I loved had brought it over and forced me to listen to it, after having been disgusted by my declaration that “Ani sucks.” Boy, did he prove me wrong that day.

It’s as vivid as yesterday. Those tracks blaring loudly through my parents’ surround sound system speakers. His beautiful blue eyes. Shared laughter. And my favorite pair of tattered jeans having to be sent to the jean-graveyard after being chased around the house resulted in an accidental tear that was equivalent to denim homicide. (RIP holey jeans.)

The memory of that night gets the bonus highlight of being accompanied by one where we watched Space Ghost: Coast to Coast with our friend Ben (which B & I did pretty much every week, as though it were a religion). I can’t remember if it’s one where Brak had too much coffee or if Moltar and Zorak were fighting over beefaroni or beefaghetti. It doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? It was a good night with the then-boy of my dreams and the then-best friend I saw every single day.

Thanks for the time machine, Ani. Doc Brown would be lucky to have you as a partner in crime.