A couple of years ago I got into The Cardigans. Not that poppy song from Romeo and Juliet, but one of their albums in particular called Long Gone Before Daylight. I noticed a song title called "And Then You Kissed Me" on a friend's iTunes playlist at work and was intrigued.
The album, I found out, was poetic, a bit dark and emotionally raw. It was as if I was reading diary entries written by a more articulate version of me. I loved it and played it constantly. And then a boy was rather unkind to me. The album became my refuge. I would plug in my iPod and walk up and down the beach in Santa Monica after work, listening to it again and again. This album was what I wanted to say to this particular boy, but couldn't quite muster up the nerve without turning red in the face and stammering. So I just listened to the album until I was ready to shake the dust off my sandals and move on.
Every so often since that time, one of the songs would appear in my shuffle list. Sometimes I fast-forwarded, sometimes I didn't. But I couldn't listen to any of these songs without going right back there to that foggy time. About a month ago, however, I decided enough was enough. That boy was a punk and who was he to mar this beautiful collection of songs I had come to treasure?
So I took back my beloved Cardigans CD. Now I listen to it often and form new memories with each song: Autumn drives in the mountains, finding my courage again and locking myself in my sister's old room to write every night.
And let me just say, this album is too freaking good to let a few not-so-great memories ruin it. If you haven't listened to it yet, here is my shameless plug on behalf of this group of Swedes. Get it. Listen to it. I think you'll like it.
What to look for in the record store:
1 comment:
I'll check it out. I hate when bad people ruin good songs. Here's to making new memories!
Post a Comment