You've been there. It's a different age. You've been away. Maybe it was as far as the university town in the next state or province, maybe it was across continents. But a lot of us now, I think, have done some time somewhere that's not quite home.
Sometimes, though, the right song can conjure up what you've lost in a very tangible way. Sometimes that makes it okay, and sometimes it sets you off in a reverie you're not coming back from for a while. And sometimes a song just nails the experience so well you can't help but note it somewhere. A blog, say.
Here's a brief top five songs that, for me, make it feel like home. If you're there, celebrate it. It's a special place.
Five: Send me on my Way, by Rusted Root
First things first, lol at this video. Remember the nineties? When hippies were still around? Hell, I say that, for all I know they're still out there, dancing to the never ending drum circle that I can't help but picture these guys' lives being. But fuck it, they look like they're having fun. Party on dudes, party on.
But this one really is just nostalgia in four minutes. And I feel like that may be universal. Who out there does this song not conjure up memories of a simpler time for, when woolly mammoths had attachment issues and your birthday party was your biggest ensuing headache? Granted, it's the nineties I'm craving when I listen to this one, not a particular place, but it's also about craving a time that's irrevocably lost, and an innocence that will never be again.
Four: Who By Fire, by Leonard Cohen
OK, so I can't really deny that this is a personal one. But I don't care. This song is Canada to me. I don't quite know why. Perhaps it's just because Leonard Cohen is one of those strange guardians of the Canadian Soul that show up from time to time. There's a few about. Neil Young's probably one.
But I hear this and I think of paddling. Being alone in a canoe on a calm night, as the twilight creeps in, and there's nothing but you, the water, and a song. (Purists may scoff at bringing an Ipod in a canoe. To them I say, have you tried it? With the right playlist?)
And yes, it is based on the Yom Kippur prayer. That, my friends, is quaking before the Living God.
Three: London Still, by the Waifs
Five: Send me on my Way, by Rusted Root
First things first, lol at this video. Remember the nineties? When hippies were still around? Hell, I say that, for all I know they're still out there, dancing to the never ending drum circle that I can't help but picture these guys' lives being. But fuck it, they look like they're having fun. Party on dudes, party on.
But this one really is just nostalgia in four minutes. And I feel like that may be universal. Who out there does this song not conjure up memories of a simpler time for, when woolly mammoths had attachment issues and your birthday party was your biggest ensuing headache? Granted, it's the nineties I'm craving when I listen to this one, not a particular place, but it's also about craving a time that's irrevocably lost, and an innocence that will never be again.
Four: Who By Fire, by Leonard Cohen
OK, so I can't really deny that this is a personal one. But I don't care. This song is Canada to me. I don't quite know why. Perhaps it's just because Leonard Cohen is one of those strange guardians of the Canadian Soul that show up from time to time. There's a few about. Neil Young's probably one.
But I hear this and I think of paddling. Being alone in a canoe on a calm night, as the twilight creeps in, and there's nothing but you, the water, and a song. (Purists may scoff at bringing an Ipod in a canoe. To them I say, have you tried it? With the right playlist?)
And yes, it is based on the Yom Kippur prayer. That, my friends, is quaking before the Living God.
Three: London Still, by the Waifs
This lament for days gone by strikes a chord beyond its Aussie circumstances. It's the sort of comfortable nostalgia that you wake up with and carry with you as you go about the first few rituals of your day. You function, you walk around, you get yourself a coffee and linger over it a while. But you're miles away. With friends you've lost touch with, and who you hope someday to return to.
Two: Wagon Wheel, by Matt Andersen
This is the version of the song you should be thinking of when you see this. It's one of the single most affecting live performances I've ever seen. The spontaneous moment of joy that this guy creates is too powerful not to like. I didn't really follow up on this guy, but I didn't feel I needed to. I'll remember his name. He did that. Once.
This song, and admittedly I don't have a rock solid source for this, is apparently an old Dylan track that Old Crow Medicine Show reworked from a bootleg album, and when Dylan heard what they'd done he gave it to them. I hope that's true. It's the pedigree a song like this needs.
It's the universal longing of the road. The sense of heading home, but never quite getting back to what you once knew. Running from the cold, from bad debts, and from other women, but trying desperately to return, and loving the journey as you make it.
I ration this song. I'd hate for it to lose any of its potency.
One: California, by Joni Mitchell.
More a sly smile of recognition than a song. Something friendly, that you can return to whenever the mood descends. It'll be there when you get back. You may wander off, but this is a touchstone that isn't going to fade with time. It's the sound of killing time in the airport as you get ready to head home.
I'll never have anything less than love for Joni Mitchell. Other songstresses may steal my affections for whole years. Regina may be prettier. Feist may be fresher. But I can't help but find myself returning from my dalliances to that first love.
