It's quiet tonight (or should I say this morning?) and somewhat unnerving to be greeted by a voice from distant past...or maybe two voices.
On an old discards pile at work today I found a copy of Into the Light by Gloria Estefan, an album recorded shortly after her amazing recovery from a bad tour bus accident in mid-1990. I found the disc earlier this, no earlier yesterday, afternoon, but didn't think to put it in my player until just now. Also found: my old copy of Cuts Both Ways.
Both these albums were pretty much my musical mainstay during my time at college, just like Primitive Love and Let It Loose were constantly playing in my room during high school.
Also from high school: a chance encounter with a former classmate while I was on the information desk at my job.
The music and the classmate both brought absurdly vivid memories I hadn't thought of in years, maybe even decades...a kind of time travel that is quite jarring for something that only happened in my mind.
The music (that poor, sweet music which was once more of a friend to me than any living non-relative when I was a teenager) has not held up that well in all this time, the classmate (I'm happy to say) has!
The music seems duller and sillier than I remember it being (even if the memories it brings will always be a part of me), the classmate brighter and as friendly as he ever was, maybe even more since it seemed so much easier to talk to him yesterday than it did when I was in school.
What is it about the music from our youth that often doesn't sound so hot after having lived in our memories unchallenged for so long? As we get older, I think we learn to listen to music for music's sake and sometimes realize what we used to love just doesn't sound so great as what we like now, even if what we liked then still has a stronger hold on our heart than what we like now.
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