Remember this

Sitting by the open window in my living room, arms raised up above the back of my chair, shoulder muscles stretching deliciously, a soft breeze stroking my face, I think: remember this. Record this sensation. This moment right here, now; save it. And I will remember sitting by a window in the sunshine but it won’t be this window, on this day. It will be a remembered idea of sitting by a window, a layering of memories of many open windows over many summers. Sensation can be recalled yet not truly remembered. It is wholly connected to the body and of the moment. That said, more than anything else, music can take you closest to remembering a sensation. A recreated sensation perhaps. Lose yourself in a song you hold dear for reasons pertaining to a person, a moment or an event in a your life and you can almost almost taste that time again. Music enables the body to remember. Remember?

From where I’m standing

Why do we listen to the music that we do? Does that sound like a silly question? Maybe, but it kept running through my head today. The emotional connections we build to songs, albums, bands, and artists are often helped along by the real life relationships that frame them. The records our parents danced around the living room to, the bands our mates dragged us to see, the album you used to listen to together. Personal moments and memories imbue sounds with deeper meaning.

That’s not to say those emotions weren’t already present in the music, it’s just that the personal introduction meant you were standing close enough to hear them.

And then other music comes out of nowhere and smacks you in the guts. Something so new, so fresh, so alien that it makes you see things differently.

Sometimes I want to remember and sometimes I want to wake up. Different sounds help me find different perspectives, change my world.

If you haven’t already, you should check out our Love Letter series on Dummy Mag. Read Veronica Murtagh on trip-hopStephen Kerr on Chicago juke music, and Mark Fisher on collective listening.