Every so often I will listen to the radio so I can find new music. I usually listen in times of transition or in the summer, which is its own transition, or when I’m feeling impatient or hopeful.
And so this summer, as we moved and I’m driving the not-kid car, which doesn’t have a way to connect to my phone, I’m listening to the radio, because I want to hear something I can dance to.
And this year, I was not disappointed. Sure, there are some songs on pop radio right now that are downright depressing in how they consider relationships and usefulness. But then there were two songs that caught me. I heard them at least a week apart. And then I realized, after looking up the second, that the first was from the same artist, from the same album, as well. I love finding songs this way.
This is how it happens. I listen to a song, and then I through listen the entire album (facilitated now by spotify), and the whole time I’m just grinning, listening to songs that are wholly new and hilarious and wonderful. And now I’ve got my favorite five songs, the theme music for the summer.
Now any time I want to remember this summer—this time we moved to this house that we bought, this room I painted in cerulean blue, this time of beginning work after five years of caring for the kids, this time when I finally started my full connection work, this new new new feeling of being in the right place at the right time—I will be able to listen to these songs and know exactly how I felt right now.
I am generating nostalgia in the moment.
I love new music for this.
I like the songs I’ve learned before, the songs I know by heart, but I also love learning new songs. Songs that surprise, that use elements of the past and sound wholly new and fill me with joy when I hear them.
Give me new music every time.
And the old.
And let me hear them together, the new, the old, the familiar, the novel, the surprising, all of it.
Let me dance and sway and discover a new beat.
Because that’s what I want to do, is dance. Dance and find a rhythm in my body that echoes the beating of my heart and the pumping of my blood and lets me clap and stomp and move so I can remember I am alive.