High Fidelity

Dick: I guess it looks as if you're reorganizing your records. What is this though? Chronological?
Rob: No...
Dick: Not alphabetical...
Rob: Nope...
Dick: What?
Rob: Autobiographical.
Dick: No fucking way.

Baby Beluga, Raffi: I am about five, we livein LaCrescent Minnesota and I am too young to understand that the situation should depress me. I’m riding shotgun in the Volvo (because honestly, how unsafe could it be) and the sun is hitting me at that really awkward angle that it does when you’re small and sitting in a car during the summer. This song is playing on the tape deck. The song makes me want to be a baby whale. Later, my dad BUYS the Raffi songbook.

Anything by Mahalia Jackson: I am ten on my first trip to California, which was also my first trip on an airplane. Patrick and I are singing “We’re blessed, we’re blessed , we’re blessed, we are bleeeeeeeesed,” we can’t remember what comes next so we sing, “We don’t deserve it, what the hell, we’re bleeeesed.” Even if you never go to church, even if you believe that there is nothing after our death but a giant taco salad in the sky, this woman’s voice will make you understand what God is.

Always Be My Baby, Mariah Carey: We just got cable. I’m obsessed with this video. I want to wear flannel shirts tied to show my belly and go to camp and finally kiss a boy. Incidentally, that summer I DO go to camp. I forget my pillow and cry on the bus ride, and spend the one week of camp wishing I were home with my parents. I do have a camp boyfriend, Devin. He is very short, with blond hair. We actually look alike, except of course I’m taller.

Volare, Gypsy Kings: I am up at the Cabin. I have earned the privilege of being allowed into my Grandparents’ cabin, which is cool and dark and smells so sweet and homey. I think my grandparents are pretty rad because they have a CD player, and they play the Gypsy Kings as I play this mind-boggling game where you try to move these dumb pegs around, a game that I never ever once one.

Mister Jones, Counting Crows: I’m in 5th grade, I have a radio/cassette player in my room, and KDWB plays this constantly. I like it, and yet I find the song depressing. Later I will figure out that is probably because the Counting Crows totally suck.

Creep, TLC: We just got cable, and apparently all I did that year was watch music videos. I have no idea that to “creep” is to have an affair, nor do I understand any of the innuendo of the lyrics. What I do understand is the TLC is supercool. Later, I will come to associate this song with college. Specifically, with Beven O’Brien pouring $8 into the Jukebox and a table full of girls shouting along with the lyrics while all the guys slam their beers and decide how the hell to get out of that bar.

Anything by Frank Sinatra: I am in my room with Erin Mulcahy, the only other 9th grader who is in love with Frank Sinatra. We are singing along to one of his Greatest Hits Cds and putting on nude lipstick and loads of mascara. We have yet to be introduced to proper blow-drying techniques or bronzer.

Moving On, Mya featuring Silkk The Shocker: I am in my Green VW Beetle with Cara Shannon. We have both been broken up with, we are both in a 17-year-old mental breakdown state, and we are on our way to the mall , windows down and sunroof open, to eat Chinese food, buy plain jane tank tops at the Gap, and talk about how we are SO over those stupid boys. Later we will most likely go home and cry and call them each fifteen times.

Come On Over Baby, Christina Aguilera: I am at my Sweetheart’s dance junior year. I went to MAC to get my make-up done, and coupled with the salsa-style dress and the red heels, I kind of look like a transsexual. But God, am I having fun. My date even wore a tie.

Beat It, Smooth Criminal, Man In The Mirror, Michael Jackson: Erin Mulcahy finally gets her driver’s license and buys the Michael Jackson HIStory CD. If you ride in the car with her, whether or not she is driving, you will listen to these songs while she dances in her seat. I’d say this reminds me exclusively of high school but to be honest, she does it still. If this comes on at a school dance or at a bar, CLEAR THE DANCE FLOOR. I repeat, CLEAR THE DANCE FLOOR.

Ex Factor, Lauryn Hill: I am 17, this whole CD rocked my face off, and I play it on repeat because I no longer have a boyfriend, even though I see him every day, take 4 classes with him, and hang out with him on a daily basis. But whatever, I am so over it and I don’t even care. This also plays on the way to the mall with Cara.

Beast of Burden, Rolling Stones: This was on a mix tape made for me by Brendan, who was a year younger than me and for whom I harbored a secret crush. Our relationship consisting mainly of chats during art class and me driving him home from school ,but he was just SO COOL. He has shaggy hair and he smoked pot. He made me the coolest and only actually Mix TAPE I have ever received, with everything from the Stones to Nelly Furtado to Duke Ellington on it. He. Was. So. Cool.

Fire and Rain, James Taylor: This is the CD I am listening to when my dad drives our car off a cliff in Italy. To this day the song makes me nervous. During the rest of the trip, I switched to the new Britney CD.

Flake, Jack Johnson: I am a freshman in college. I have only begun to start listening to music by white people, since it wasn’t exactly the popular thing to do at DeLaSalle. I love every song this dude creates, and don’t even notice that they all sound exactly alike. It is on repeat on my computer, which is a 2nd generation iMac in a flowered print.

It’s Gonna Be Love, Mandy Moore: It is the summer after my Freshman year of college. Gene Weaver got a new car, a red Jeep Wrangler. He drives me around the lakes at night while we sip on 44 oz. Sodas from SuperAmerica. He also listens to this song on repeat. This is maybe one of the best summers of my life, and I do NOT want to go back to Cincinnati. I would be content to sit in the front seat of the Jeep while Gene drives on the bike path around Lake Harriet just to make me smile.

Toxic, Britney Spears: I’m a Junior in college. No matter where the party is, some girl manages to get this on the stereo and we all jump and dance around to what we think matches the beat but is mostly likely about five seconds off.

Murder On The Dancefloor, Sophie Ellis Baxter: Unless you frequent gay bars or techno bars, you probably don’t know this song. UNLESS you lived at or partied at 1928 Cleneay during the 2004/2005 school year, in which case Beven lured you back to the house with a promise of “late night” and then made you dance to this song on repeat for about 2 hours. But come on, you LOVED it.

Autobiography, Ashlee Simpson: I am a senior in college and secretly listening to the same stuff that 11-year-old girls LOVE. I play this song in my car, I dance to it at parties, but mostly it reminds me of living on the sweltering 3rd floor at 1928 Cleneay, this song blaring over Erin Dailer’s stereo while she cleans her room and I lay on my bed with my computer.

What will remind me of now, of this first year in New York, my first year of cohabitation, my first year out of school: Leaf House, Animal Collective; 7, Prince; Gold Mine Gutted, Bright Eyes; Something Vague, Bright Eyes; Rock Steady, The Whispers; Hit The Switch, Bright Eyes; I Don’t Do Crowds, Speak Slow, Tegan and Sarah; Camera Obscura; Overkill, Colin Hay; Across the Universe, Fiona Apple; Moon River, Henry Mancini; Love And Some Verses, Iron and Wine; You Turn Me On I’m A Radio, Joni Mitchell; Twin Cinema, New Pornographers; Sleeping In, The Postal Service; Inherited Scars, Sage Francis;