Isn’t it the strangest thing how life seems to have soundtracks? There are songs I can’t listen to without being transported back to another time in my life. And times in my life I’m not sure I’d have gotten through without certain songs.
I remember my first real heartbreak and I still can’t listen to Bed Of Roses without a slightly nostalgic smile (yep, I’m that old). I survived my first betrayal on Offspring. I momentarily fell in love with a boy who played guitar and sang When You Say Nothing At All. I found a voice for my anger in Nickelback songs (yes, I listen to Nickelback and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks).
I’m not sure I’d have found my way through my fight to myself without a combo of Linkin Park, The Pussycat Dolls and Pink. And Mambo No. 5 still makes me feel insecure every time I hear it.
My life with my husband has a strangely varied soundtrack. All the stuff in the previous paragraph, because he was right there. A bunch of stuff from dancing. Do-ah-di-di, of all things! It’s a Boogie. A few Spanish songs I don’t even understand. Some very inappropriate Waltzes (Last Cheaters’ Waltz – I kid you not). Choosing the song for our first wedding dance was hell. And the Quickstep, Twenty Tiny Fingers. That was probably our favourite. When we were planning our wedding, I discovered Daughtry and This Could Be The Start Of Something Good seemed to fit.
Two years later, we lost our first baby (pregnancy) and my dad died and suddenly I couldn’t listen to that Quickstep and Daughtry reentered my life with Gone Too Soon on repeat. Recently, Mandy from Pregnant in Cape Town introduced me to Ed Sheeran’s Small Bump in the process of her own grief and it really shredded me anew. It really brought back so many feelings and memories (who in fuck came up with the term “Missed Abortion”? For realsies? It’s not like you didn’t pitch for a clinic appointment).
When I fell pregnant with our daughter, I rediscovered country music. I also happily researched serial killers all day as a pastime. There’s no accounting for what hormones do to you. But I’m still loving the country, so there. There is a beauty to the story telling, the inventive insults, the reality… My daughter likes 90s pop and Bryan Adams and has since birth.
I fell pregnant with our son a year after returning to dancing. Suddenly Twenty Tiny Fingers held a certain secret, exhausting joy again (don’t quickstep when you’re 6 months pregnant unless you’re really fit, and even then…)
There are songs I struggle with. Any paternal references, like Butterfly Kisses. Don’t You Want Me (1981) rubs me the wrong way so badly, my husband always ends up laughing at me.
I also enjoy listening to lyrics. That combined with my fondness for arguing with PCs, TVs and radios, makes for great entertainment, I’m sure.
What’s your soundtrack?
