Life Soundtrack

It seems as though everyone is all about the music this blogging week! I’ve had this post on the go for about a month now, and thought that while everyone was feeling musically inspired, I’d throw in my two cents too.

So, my music inspired question to you this morning is this:

Do you have a soundtrack for your life?

You know, the well-loved much-sung songs that you connect to a person, place or thing? When I thought about writing this post, I realised that I’d have to take a step back and pay attention to the songs I’d put on my imaginary mix-tape, instead of waffling on like I generally do. Which is actually trickier than first thought, because while I have a thousand songs swirling around for every occasion, I don’t actually pay any kind of pointed attention to them. 

This is what I’ve come up with, after a week or so of careful thinking:

My childhood self still has a soft spot the Beatles, and remembers listening to crackly records and learning the words to all their early, happy, love-struck songs. Even now, I can recall the way their music made me feel as a child – hopeful, happy, free, and believing wholeheartedly in the magic of falling in love at first sight across a crowded room, When I saw her standing there style.

My teenage self goes to pieces over Last Goodbye, by Jeff Buckley. It was the first of his songs that I listened to and loved with an obsessive love, and the most perfect break up song (guaranteed to produce floods of tears).

My Uni self loves Bob Dylan’s Don’t think twice, it’s alright for it’s gently sung cheekiness, and reminds me of beer with like-minded friends on summer afternoons, reading until the early hours of the morning, writing and writing and writing and writing, and seeing my creative self flourish for the first time.

My new mama song is Ben Harper’s Not fire, not ice. I’d sing it secretly to Judah during the days when he wouldn’t settle, and sometimes he’d calm enough to be rocked to sleep. And in the early days, I couldn’t sing the whole thing without crying – the song was exactly how I felt about my small newborn son.

And now?

Maybe Something in the water, by Brooke Fraser.

But when I’m driving on a beautiful morning, Powderfinger’s Burn your name is always played at least once; and when I’m feeling sentimental, Frank Sinatra’s I’ve got you under my skin reminds me of how I fell in love. I always manage to listen to Julia Stone’s This love while sewing, and on a frazzled, tantrum-filled, never-ending list day - Housebound Blues, by C.W. Stoneking – because it never fails to make me smile.

Do you have songs for all your various selves or the stages in your life?

Nat

Ps. I’m totally, totally behind on my ‘One pattern a month’ meme – I’ve been sewing up a furious storm for Mathilda’s and almost everything else has been laid by the wayside. I promise I’ll get cracking on it next week.

Image from here.