This is how I do music:
- Buy CD
- Immediately listen to CD upon getting into car
- Listen to CD over and over and over
- Listen to CD again a few more times to make sure it’s memorized
- Give dirty looks to my family when they complain about hearing my CD again
- Listen one more time for good measure
The constant flow of one particular album seems to saturate my life and then, years later, the songs will remind me of very specific times in my history. I always seem to need a new CD in the summertime to become my summer soundtrack. Last summer, I bought the Black Eyed Peas on a total whim. This is not my regular taste. But? I liked it. A lot. It reminds me of the weekend trip we took to St. George in which we first discovered the Red Bull Smoothie. Mmmmmmmm. Good times.
Summers past have included: Sheryl Crow’s C’mon, C’mon, Kalai’s Six Strings and the Rainy Day Man, and the Magnolia Soundtrack, among others.
Last Saturday, we went in the Virgin Records Megastore in Salt Lake. I realized that the summer was half over and I haven’t selected an appropriate soundtrack. Ryan found the new Johnny Cash CD and I found a new employee at the store to try and figure out what I needed for my background music. First, I asked him which CD Brittany Murphy sings the first track on, and he didn’t really know. I told him that it’s on the CD of a man who was a really famous DJ in LA and he finally came up with Paul Oakenfold. We found the CD.
“Will I like it?” I asked, which is really a strange question to ask a complete stranger.
“Yeah, it’s living room music. Really light.” he said. (How did he know I like living room music?)
Then I asked him to help me find one other CD and these were the very helpful clues I gave him:
“I heard part of a song from this singer/songwriter on TV a few weeks ago. She was black, she was British, and she had three names.”
Clearly, he was not capable of saying, “I have no idea,” because he was feeling so proud after figuring out and finding the Paul Oakenfold Living Room Music CD.
“I think you’re thinking of Sophie Ellis Bextor,” he said.
“Well, that’s three names,” I said.
“Her band is zero 7 and they have a new CD out. It’s right over here.” he said and led me to the wall display.
“She’s black?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And British?”
“Yes.”
“And this is her band? I got the impression she was a solo act.”
“This is her band. They’re really good.”
He had terrible breath, but that doesn’t usually indicate anything about a person’s musical catalog prowess. I used the wall headphones to listen to part of both CDs.
First, Paul Oakenfold. Umm, I liked the track by Brittany Murphy, but living room music? Apparently this guy’s living room was where his father spent time beating drums and his mother held Jazzercize classes. Maybe because I was expecting something more mellow, I couldn’t accept this as my summer soundtrack.
The second CD, the garden by zero 7, was much more techno than I’ve ever purchased, but I liked it. Sophie Ellis-Bextor has some great pipes. I bought the CD and that night, after Ryan and I put our kids to bed, we sat out in the driveway in our car and listened to our CDs. My bare feet were up on the dashboard and I had a bowl of noodles and a glass of punch. It was a great night.
As it turns out, Sophie Ellis Bextor is British, but not black, and not actually associated with zero 7 in any way shape or form. So, I ended up with a pretty good CD featuring nobody I’ve ever heard of in my entire life. Go figure. The artist I was looking for was Corinne Bailey Rae, who Ryan saw on one of the national morning newscasts this week and whose CD I promptly ordered on Amazon.
The moral of the story? Never trust a new employee with bad breath and always listen to new CDs with your bare feet on the dashboard.
What’s your summer soundtrack?
