The first time I truly felt love, it came through music. I was 12 years old. Before that, I’d encountered no shortage of talk, but the thing people had been calling “love” was mostly scary and confusing.
It was the late summer of 1985 in Virginia Beach. My best friend, Jim, and I were standing on the blue shag carpet of his bedroom. Jim had just gotten a cassette in the mail from his cousin Geoff, a dubbed copy of R.E.M.’s Fables of the Reconstruction. Geoff was a little older, lived in a bigger city, and was our only source of information about good music. We idolized him. Obviously.
Jim put the tape in the deck and pressed play. In my mind’s eye, the movie of this moment plays out as a single 22-minute shot, with the complete A-side of Fables as the soundtrack. The camera lingers on two children’s faces as they are made new with wonder.
The previous year, I’d been obsessed with my first favorite song, Peter Gabriel’s “Shock the Monkey.” Sure, I’d liked other songs before then, but “Shock the Monkey” was the first one I felt a personal relationship with. Somehow I knew my spirit said yes to it. That I loved it.
But that summer day in Jim’s room, hearing R.E.M. for the first time, I was struck by the feeling that the music was loving me back. Not only was I saying yes to the music—it was saying yes to me. This was both stunning and grounding.
Thanks to everyone who responded to last week’s post. It’s great to hear from you about all sorts of things, including metonyms. It’s nice to be among fellow word nerds!
Feel free to share favorite words and/or falling-in-love moments through email or below in the comments.
See you next week.
I leave you with this great 1985 R.E.M. performance of “Green Grow the Rushes” from Fables of the Reconstruction.
I'm not sure when that moment or similar moment first hit for me. It MIGHT'VE been the first time I heard "P. Funk (Wants to Get Funked Up" (I promise I'm not citing this track just to sound hip as fuck. I'm not remotely hip or cool though for decades I'm sure I thought I was). My uncle Kenny had the album and the front and back covers were definitely a wtf is this moment for me but when he put it on my world changed (just to reiterate, I'm just not sure this was the first time it had changed even on that level, just the most significant time I can remember). I became so obsessed with this song I learned and copied the lyrics and hid them (please put hid in all caps and quotations) in a sprawling 2 page sort-of-love-letter-disguised-as-a-play and had my friend Charlie Lukens give it to an 8th grade bombshell Cynthia Pfieffer (Charlie & I were in 3rd grade at the time). This is St. Elizabeth's school in Kansas City. We were all "in love" with Cynthia. I hung back in the upper grade playground, Charlie's sister was also in 8th grade so he was pretty fearless around the 8th graders, and I saw him hand Cynthia the note. About 10 min later, after just hanging around, a car drives by, and slows down, a backseat window rolls down and Cynthia sticks her head out of the window and says, "this is really funny!". I say thanks, and they drive off.
While I'm still somewhat obsessed with that song, because of my uncle (who is no longer with us), because of its notable presence in what is now referred to as Afro Futurism, because of Kansas City, because of Cynthia and the Charlie assist, it's not my favorite song on the album, but it might be the most important one.
beautifully recounted, beautifully written. thanks for taking me back in time with you.