Today is the 50th birthday of the R.E.M. singer, Michael Stipe. In the mid 80's, they were one of only two bands that really mattered to me, the other being U2. Both were hard-working groups of friends from cities far removed from the centers of the musical universe, Athens, GA, and Dublin, respectively. Nothing was as important in those days as the latest release, on vinyl, from either of these two bands. I remember my brothers and I taking our newly-acquired copy of R.E.M.'s Reckoning album down into the basement, so that we could listen to, and analyze, every single track.
The obsessions of my youth have gone-there are just too many things to worry about these days. Too many responsibilities. I didn't worry about my paychecks in my early 20's, I was more interested in trying to figure out what the Hell Stipe was talking about when he sang, "Seven Chinese brothers swallowing the ocean/Seven thousand years to take away the pain." I still listen to music, but not with the same focus. It doesn't have the same importance that it once had. Mostly, it has become something to listen to while I am doing something else, like the dishes, or going to work.
I always have songs in my head while I'm running, but I don't take an mp3 player with me. It could be the last song I heard on the radio before I went out the door, or something my wife sang when she got up, like "My Favorite Things." (That is torture on a long-run day.) I only went two this morning, but for those17 minutes an appropriate line kept repeating itself: "Waste of time sitting still."
I can hear you. Can you hear me?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment