Name That Tune

Have you ever noticed that when you are in emotional turmoil, every song you hear feels like it was written with your particular angst in mind? On the other hand, sometimes all you need is the opening few bars of some song and you are immediately transported back in time to a great memory.

Take "Stairway to Heaven" (Led Zeppelin). I don't know if it is a Canadian thing or not but every school dance from the grade seven through graduation ended with this song. I hear it and think about that innocent, awkward, embrace and how I could always feel my dance mate's heart racing through his best rugby shirt.

I hear "You Shook Me All Night Long" (AC/DC) and I am instantly back to grade eight and my first kiss. It was here that my weakness for bad boys began to take shape. One such lad let me borrow his Back in Black album until I earned enough from babysitting to buy my own. I wore that album out. Tab and blue mascara figured largely in my life then and I was keenly interested to know who shot J.R.

I cannot listen to "Roxanne" (Police) without remembering Paul and John (their parents apparent Beatles fans) who were brothers, much older than me and they lived in my neighborhood. They were British, professional motor cross racers and just a bit dangerous. I had a terrible crush on both of them. They treated me like a younger sister and taught me the basic mechanics of motorcycles. I learned to change oil and filters and to be very quiet because often, they would discuss the pros and cons of their dates forgetting that I was there listening to them. I just wish I had written some of those nuggets down.

The first time I smoked a cigarette and some of that wacky tabacky (I didn't inhale...much), Comfortably Numb (Pink Floyd) was playing. Any song from The Wall shoots me back in time to the precise moment when I officially left common sense at my father's doorstep and became the type of teenager that causes parents to attend support groups.

"Shout" (Tears For Fears) was the anthem of my graduating class. We were going to set the world on fire. We were the generation that would find the cure for cancer, solve the problem of world hunger and broker world peace. Of course, all of this would have to wait until after the season finale of "Miami Vice". I still see the reflection of the street lights on the hood of the Ferrari that Crockett was driving when I listen to "In The Air Tonight" (Phil Collins). Admit it. You've air drummed that solo, haven't you?

In the twenty odd years since graduating from high school, I've acquired a whole library of music that is punctuated with memories. My iPod is filled with everything from classical to head banging rock and I am just grateful that all I need to do to change a mood is plug in.

The first few notes of the song below have been sung to me REPEATEDLY by men in various stages of inebriation. It always occurred the same way. University hang out, Friday night, frat boy sticks his hand out to introduce himself. I shake and tell him my name. Then he breaks out into song. It happened. A lot. The memory of it still makes me smile.