Travel Music Summer 2018

When my partner and I moved in together, we kept our hundreds of CDs separate for a minute. And by a minute, I mean a year.

After no one ran screaming from the apartment in that first year of living together, we merged the Biggie and the Dixie Chicks and the Ani and the Pixies, in a moment that is as close to a wedding ceremony as we’ll likely ever get. That act – merging those collections, without a mark on the cases to pull them back apart if needed – that was our promise to each other to keep trying to make it work forever.

By then, we had purchased some stuff together (namely, a lot of Black Keys) but we mostly carried with us the musical history of our lives before our most recent relationship. Having dated (the first time) in the nineties and off and on throughout college, we both have songs buried in this collection that remind us of the other one…more than we’ll ever admit, for sure.

In the last few years, we’ve used streaming services more often and bought digital music from artists. Our cars both had audio cables to connect our phones, and neither of our computers has a CD drive. We weren’t pulling down the CDs to listen to music on the weekend.  

And while it will always stick out in my mind as the moment we made it really real, we’ve been through so much now that it seems sort of silly. It certainly would have been silly to haul seven Ikea bookshelves with us and try to fit them into an RV. The time had come. The plan was to select a small portion of CDs to keep, digitize the rest and recycle the packaging.  

At the same time, we bought a truck with a 6 disc CD changer and no aux port to connect our phones. So we are listening to CDs again, and the only ones we have left are the ones we saved from a past monument to our commitment before we dismantled it and gave it to an electronics recycling company.

These tracks bring up feelings. I remember why I bought this music and I understand why he did, too.  

I’m not a music critic.  I don’t have a deep understanding of composition or structure.  I do know that there are some things you rock out to while you run a hard workout and there are some things that you play at a dinner party and other things you play when your heart is broken.

With that in mind here’s what we’ve been listening to on the road. (Links below are to Spotify, highlighted songs also on this YouTube playlist, in case you don’t do Spotify.)

Route: Columbus, Ohio to the New Jersey Shore, to Western Pennsylvania, to Sandusky Ohio

Black Crowes, Shake your Money Maker, 1990

Our pickup truck is an enormous diesel beast.  For the last 11 years, I’ve been driving a tiny VW Jetta.  The first time I drove the truck, I wanted music I could blast, with the windows rolled down and my left arm casually draped outside the door while I steered the truck with one hand.  I wanted to feel comfortable giving an inclined head nod to a passing trucker while my speakers blared. This was the first album I grabbed to put in the truck and it was three months before we hit the road.

Good For:  Driving around in a big pickup truck, bobbing your head and occasionally playing the drums on the steering wheel.   Listen to the opening chords of “Twice As Hard” and tell me you *don’t* wish you were driving a giant pickup.  

My Desert Island Song:  “She Talks to Angels” – You’ve heard it and know the words whether  you realize it or not.

 

The Fugees, The Score, 1996

This is the second album I grabbed.  It is the album I will grab in any situation except for listening to music with my parents.  The requisite-for-nineties-hip-hop spoken interludes are even at the end of each track, so they can be skipped.  Because unless you’re listening to it for the first time or writing a critical essay, you’re gonna skip them. I’ve been listening to this album for 22 years and I can only tell you what the first two seconds sound like in any of the interludes.

Good For: Everything except listening to music with my parents.  Maybe your parents too. I don’t know them.

My Desert Island Song: “Ready or Not” – I’ll be Nina Simone.

 

Ms. Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, 1998

Lauryn Hill. This album and the last one are just perfect.  Human beings are complicated and I know that we can’t just pause their lives in 1997 so they keep making amazing music.  And maybe these are perfect because it is a tiny cosmic moment.

This one just celebrated its 20 year anniversary and there’s a lot of coverage.  Personally, I liked this article from The Undefeated, in which one writer that knows more about music than I do interviews another writer that knows more music than I do.  Some basic Google searches will most certainly turn up more. And no matter what you read, know that this album is worth your time.

Good For:  Listening to hip hop with people who aren’t into hip hop.

My Desert Island Song: “Ex-Factor”    

 

Ani Difranco, Little Plastic Castle, 1998

This album does not have my favorite Ani Difranco songs, but this was the first album that came out after I knew about Ani Difranco.  There are many purists who will tell you it was already too late. But, I can still sing every word of the first 10 songs. I am incapable of judging it without bias and though I dutifully bought future albums, this was the apex of Ani fandom for me.  

This album has the ability to make you feel a little less alone in the ways you disappoint yourself, and the ways that others disappoint you.  

Good For: For me, this album is perfect for long, solo road trips.  It might not be your jam, though. It will help if you attended college in the nineties and have a high tolerance for angry folk singers and a non-traditional singing voice.  

My Desert Island Song: “As Is”

 

Willie Nelson, Red Headed Stranger, 1975

Frankly, I pulled this album out of the book because I didn’t want all of our available music to remind us of bad choices we made in our early twenties.  Quite the opposite, the first play of this one reminded me fondly of my deceased grandparents, and I spent the next day asking my extended family, did Grandma like Willie Nelson?  Did Grandpa? And they all said no. So, I’m not sure where I made the association. Nevertheless, the album made me tap on the steering wheel and smile wide. It is objectively good, and it is easy to see how Willie Nelson’s music has influenced many musicians since then.  

I spent a lot time with this album while driving back and forth to Philly from the Jersey shore, and it provided a pleasant soundtrack to the Pinelands passing by outside.  Until, it turns out, the dude killed the lady for touching his horse. Wait, what?

Spoiler alert: the title track is dark, and romantic in that way that westerns are romantic until you really think about it. SHE JUST WANTED TO PET YOUR HORSE, MAN. I mentioned this to Josh and he said, “she tried to *steal* his horse.” And I said, “fuck the patriarchy.”

Good For:  Bridging the gap between country, rock and pop fans. There is a wide swath of people who could be in your car with this music on and no one would be unhappy.  Willie Nelson has that effect on people.

My Desert Island Song: “Remember Me (When The Candle LIghts Are Gleaming)”

 

Tidal – Fiona Apple – 1996

This album is just ballsy.  Ms. Apple had no business making this record, but she did and that was her gift to us. The video Criminal is a pouty creepy ode  to the era of heroin chic, which in hindsight…not great. But the album itself has more depth and is full of power mixed with quiet and her voice makes you feel like every moment in your tiny life is actually super poignant. And, isn’t that why we listen to music? At least in our twenties?

Good For: Laying flat on your back on your floor in the dark after breaking up with the college boyfriend you’ve outgrown. Probably.

Desert Island Song: “Never is a Promise”

 

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If you were born before 1970 or after 1985, I can imagine you being slightly disappointed by this list.  Moving makes you nostalgic, man, and stressed out. Going through those stacks of CDs, I was looking for comfort and familiarity.  

Don’t you worry.  After the same discs for almost three months, I’m past that.  See you next time.