Where Does The Time Go?
Right now, as I type this, I have one of my favorite CD's playing; the Electric Light Orchestra's 1976 album "A New World Record". I loved this album back then, and have had successive cassette, 8-Tracks, LP and CD copies of it. I listen to it, and I remember this somewhat lanky kid riding his Schwinn 10-speed along Southside Boulevard, his rather pricey GE cassette player strapped to the handle bars, blasting the music in startling monophonic. I loved that bike, and I loved ELO. Still love ELO, bike is long gone.
When I listen to this music, I remember, very clearly, what I felt; when "So Fine" plays, for instance, I remember April of 1979, riding past Bradley Road towards a date with a couple of girls I knew (not a "date" date, just a friendly game of tennis). "Living Thing" reminds me of an even earlier period, late fall 1976, heading over my friend Greg's house with my brother Terry driving me in his Chevy.
Only two and a half years separated those two events, in an opposite direction, but when you are a teen, it might as well be an eternity. For me, music links me to the past, to events, a melodic synesthesia that combines memory, sound, color and vision. If I try hard enough, it is as if I am actually there.
By the time I entered my thirties, it was as if I were lost in a fog. Months would blend together, and events that had happened years before were as clear to me as if they had happened yesterday. I might have problems remembering where I had left my keys, but I could tell you what I was doing in February 1978, what I was working on, what I was feeling (hint; deeply depressed, trying to regain my footing after a terrible loss, building model airplanes like mad to sooth myself).
Once my life began to pickup again, and the malaise abated, it suddenly struck me; where in the hell had the time gone? The 80's blurred by, and I never really enjoyed it. The 90's saw me trying very hard to get on my financial feet only to lose myself again, and the Aught's had me starting to find myself again. By the time I landed on my feet, I was in my late thirties, and once I was standing, my forties.
I had lost two and a half decades.
That's a long time.
Forget the two and a half years between the two memories associated with "A New World Record"; that's a drop in the bucket. Twenty five years. Wow.
Forget how crystal clear the album sounds to me (better than it did through my small GE cassette player). I hear that music now, and it still makes me smile.
But it is also associated with a place long gone and occupied by the ghosts of teenagers desperately searching for their place. It took this teenager a few decades, and he still isn't there yet.
"Out Of The Blue" has started playing. That's another set of memories.
When I listen to this music, I remember, very clearly, what I felt; when "So Fine" plays, for instance, I remember April of 1979, riding past Bradley Road towards a date with a couple of girls I knew (not a "date" date, just a friendly game of tennis). "Living Thing" reminds me of an even earlier period, late fall 1976, heading over my friend Greg's house with my brother Terry driving me in his Chevy.
Only two and a half years separated those two events, in an opposite direction, but when you are a teen, it might as well be an eternity. For me, music links me to the past, to events, a melodic synesthesia that combines memory, sound, color and vision. If I try hard enough, it is as if I am actually there.
By the time I entered my thirties, it was as if I were lost in a fog. Months would blend together, and events that had happened years before were as clear to me as if they had happened yesterday. I might have problems remembering where I had left my keys, but I could tell you what I was doing in February 1978, what I was working on, what I was feeling (hint; deeply depressed, trying to regain my footing after a terrible loss, building model airplanes like mad to sooth myself).
Once my life began to pickup again, and the malaise abated, it suddenly struck me; where in the hell had the time gone? The 80's blurred by, and I never really enjoyed it. The 90's saw me trying very hard to get on my financial feet only to lose myself again, and the Aught's had me starting to find myself again. By the time I landed on my feet, I was in my late thirties, and once I was standing, my forties.
I had lost two and a half decades.
That's a long time.
Forget the two and a half years between the two memories associated with "A New World Record"; that's a drop in the bucket. Twenty five years. Wow.
Forget how crystal clear the album sounds to me (better than it did through my small GE cassette player). I hear that music now, and it still makes me smile.
But it is also associated with a place long gone and occupied by the ghosts of teenagers desperately searching for their place. It took this teenager a few decades, and he still isn't there yet.
"Out Of The Blue" has started playing. That's another set of memories.
posted by RRLittle at 9:23 AM
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