When Music Transports me Back In Time

When I first read that this week’s topic for my friend Jen’s Twisted Mixed Tape Tuesday was “Beautiful music,” I admit to being at a loss. I had no idea what beautiful music, or story, to share. I briefly toyed with finding songs in my playlist that have the word “beautiful” in their titles. But I wasn’t excited, or moved, about going in that direction. And music? It should move us, in one way or another. Whether we want to get up and dance, curl up in a ball on the floor, consider the tragedy and blessing that life is, remember our wedding dances, or that perfect moment spent in the car with our son, it should affect us.

In that sense, isn’t all the music that we listen to on purpose beautiful simply for the fact that it affects us? There are many much less-than beautiful songs that transport me. Take me back to an ago life, a forgotten moment, a moved-on from.  Here are a few of those moments.

When Music Transports me Back In Time

During (I think) the 1976 Olympics, I first heard Beethoven’s Fur Elise. Or, I first realized that I was hearing it. Nadia Comaneci was dominating women’s gymnastics. I would have been seven or eight years old, and was transfixed. Mesmerized. The fact that she was mere years ahead of me in age, and performing in front of millions of people, and doing so perfectly, isn’t what I remember. I remember the haunting first notes of Fur Elise. I remember that they brought tears to my young eyes and I remember being embarrassed to have been so emotionally affected by the music while simultaneously being unable to resist asking my father what that music was. Who that girl was. Rolling them both off of my tongue, and finding one of my first heroes in her.

What an exotic name.

Nadia. Nadia Comaneci.

I wanted to be a gymnast that night. Nevermind that I’d never done gymnastics in my life, was afraid of heights, and had limited coordination skills. Watching Nadia fly during those Olympic games to Beethoven was a beautiful moment. And one that I remember with such clarity, even now. 30+ years later.

I apologize that I was unable to find a YouTube clip of the floor routine that lives in my head. But listen to the first few notes of this. It’s transforming.

When I was a kid, I went to summer camp. For five weeks at a time. One of my favorite memories was singing along with my cabinmates and counselors. Imagine my surprise years later, when I found out that one of my best around-the-fire memories was actually derived from a “real” song. I had no idea. I just knew that this song affected me.

Simon and Garfunkel’s Sounds of Silence. I sang this song at camp, long before I knew it was a “real” song. Those memories, in front of the fire? Beautiful.

During my formative years, I discovered Pink Floyd and Styx. Thinking back to first hearing them both makes me remember lying on the floor of my room, holiday lights hung from the post in the ceiling (I’ve told you about this before – it lasted for years). Those were memorable, if not beautiful, moments.

Later, with my roommates, I can remember listening to Neil Young and The Neville Brothers. I remember driving my jeep with my friend Julie listening to Lita Ford and Ozzy Osbourne – and Julie saying that I was a closet metal head. Me, denying it. That was a beautiful moment. Because I remember it so clearly.

So much formative music.

Listening over and over to Iz while trying to figure out whether It’s a Wonderful World and Somewhere Over The Rainbow had always had the same tune, or whether he just transitioned well enough to make me wonder. That was beautiful. Tucker’s goodnight song is my own version of “It’s a Wonderful World” – as in “He’s a Wonderful Boy.” I know. Cheesy. True.

When I first moved to DC from Denver, part of my perk was that I was able to spend a month (or more) during the holidays in Denver. Because I was able to be there for so long, I took Chief and drove 24-27 hours and had a ton of music to listen to. That’s when I fell in love with audio books. With The Secret Life of Bees (if you haven’t read that book, I loved it).

While I was out here (in DC), my friend Sara made me a mixed tape called Melanchol-la-la-la-lia!  I know. Awesome name, right? On it was The Blower’s Daughter by Damien Rice. I can’t even tell you how many times I ran to that music, contemplating life. Love. Me. What’s important. I may have taken it too far. Or not. Because the music that affects us – that we find beauty in – is something that we should be grateful for, right?

When I think about beautiful music, it’s not so much the music that’s beautiful as it is the memories that are. That a mere song has the power to take me to a place and a time so long ago that it was forgotten is powerful. And that type of power is mostly always beautiful.

Tell me, what music takes you back? What music goes easy on you? Makes you feel the beauty? Or a memory?

I’m linking up today with my good pal Jen over at My Skewed View (formerly Break the Parenting Mold) for Twisted Mixed Tape Tuesday!

Wanna link up with us?  Enter your post below and happy Tuesday!