Bits of Things I Remember

I have been rereading one of my favorite books, Love Is A Mixtape, by Rolling Stone contributingwriter Rob Sheffield. Sheffield is one of the most widely read, respected music journalists of our time, and he doesn't disappoint in the extended format of a full-length book.

            The book is chapter after chapter of Sheffield reminiscing about a box of mixtapes he found in his Brooklyn apartment, specifically those tapes concerning his late wife and the 5 short years they had together before her death. Sheffield is the master of conjuring the emotion associated with the songs you grew up with and the people you shared them with, and his feelings about junior high dances and first girlfriends and road trips. As a result, it's nearly impossible to read this book without getting a little nostalgic yourself.

            Picking through my heavily underlined and dog-eared copy of Love Is A Mixtapelast night, I was thinking about the tapes I made when I was younger. I used to make my Dad weight lifting tapes for his workouts. He had one with "Changes" by 2pac he really liked. I made mixes for drives to the movies (Gym Class Heroes, Journey), mixes for basketball games (Eve 6, Bleeding Through), mixes for girls and guys and relatives. I used to meet new people and make them a mix, because I felt like a CD with 17 of my favorite songs on it would explain more about me than a conversation would. I still do it today with playlists, but I miss burning a CD, naming it, writing down all the songs on a piece of notebook paper and folding it into fourths and writing the recipient's name on the outside.

            After tapes, I reluctantly moved on to CD's (I was probably the last kid in my town to get a Discman). Tapes were cheaper and I could buy more of them, so I kept at them for a while, but eventually the appeal of not having to rewind and fast-forward constantly got to me, and I ended up switching over to compact disc format. Plus, the artwork is bigger, and that's awesome. It's really strange I never became a vinyl nerd, but I leave that to my Brother. My friend Fusco showed me how to make a playlist on MusicMatch Jukebox and burn it onto a Maxell 80 minute disc, and we spent the next five or six years burning each other mixes at our various houses, writing titles on them with Sharpies. I just found "Fusco Volumes 1-4" a few months ago, and I was really depressed by how much Xzibit was on them. Anyway.

            Fusco was a hip hop head, and I was a rocker, so we would cross pollinate and educate each other on our favorite artists. I still remember sitting in his bedroom at his Mom's old house and admitting that I really liked 50 Cent's first record (I still know every word) and getting him to cop to a couple New Found Glory songs. Fusco, myself and our friend John would ride back and forth to basketball games together and listen to Lloyd Banks, Fabolous, Young Buck, The Game, etc. You know, the classics. To this day, I have a gigantic soft spot for gangster rap because of those two. I recently saw John on Highway 93 rapping to himself in his new car. He's still got it.

            A few weeks ago my friend Emily came to stay for the night, and we became obsessed with figuring out the tracklisting for a mix I had made her years ago. We had so much fun listening to an old scratched up CD, covered in my high school handwriting, remembering those songs I thought she'd like all those years ago. I thought about what we were like in High School and how much I missed her the first Fall when she left for College. It's funny how old songs can do that to you. I made some similar mixes for my friend Amy. I had sideburns at that point in my life, so I'm surprised she thought I was a credible source for new tunes.  I would get so excited to show her new bands, and I remember being thrilled when she nodded her head on the school bus to a game one day and agreed that, yes Ben, Sugarcult is a cool band. She didn't like the Used though. I remember being really into old school Drive- Thru Records bands when I was making her CD's, and I wonder if she still has them or remembers the Movielife and Midtown or if she ever found a Used song she liked. I'll have to ask her.

            More recently, my fiancée traded mixes through the U.S. Postal Service during the year we spent apart while I was at school here and she was back home in Anchorage. She wrote the tracklisting down on notebook lined paper and sent them to me in old 90's rock cases, and for a few days there, laying in my room listening to those mixes and staring at her handwriting, it felt like a junior high romance all over again.

            There is something so personal and romantic about custom fitting some songs from you iTunes and putting them into physical format for a friend. Without the context of the rest of a cohesive album, songs on mixes are forced to stand on their own, and thusly tunes from mixes are somewhat liberated to trigger more personal, specific memories. I wish it would come back a little. If you know me, you should ask me to burn you a CD. Much thanks to my high school friends for letting me bore them to death with a lot of dialogue about sequencing and mood and transitions. Maybe I'll make a mix tonight for those people and mail it to them. John, Fusco, Emily and Amy, get me those mailing addresses, we have some 50 Cent songs to discuss.