Lyrical: How to Remember
I hear Sheila Ki Jawani and I smell crisping honey-chicken butt, the mix of diesel, urine filled dirt, and sweet jasmine, think of high walls and jewels, and I taste tea that makes my heart cry with happiness. Around the time of my 13th birthday I learned that memory was a tricky thing. As it turned out, when I was 5 my parents had lost me in the woods for a whole day…. When I approached my father about this around that fateful birthday, already cracking sarcastic comments at a young age, he just looked at me and laughed. As it turns out I had simply had had a very bad dream at some young age and never quite discerned the difference between rêve and reality. Seeing my early memory failures, I decided I needed a much more reliable way to jog my memory about the things that do matter, the moments that mean something. My answer: music. Here are 5 songs from my Summer 2012 playlist, how I will remember everything around them.
The Seed 2.0 by the Roots: Maybe its my odd obsession with colonial styles, or the fact that I was in a delicious pâtisserie, but the the smoothness of the song, the café au lait, and what was playing as I wrote outside, waiting in the slow afternoon heat thats more of a blanket you wish you didnt have, but a blanket nonetheless.
Tear by the Red Hot Chili Peppers: Sometime after 6pm I get to Zainabs. Dubbed CSI Miami or Smash!, seared sunflower seeds, nutella and toast, smoke drifting around, the fruit stand on the left, heat left over from the day, spices to fill everything.
Sweeter by Gavin Degraw: Full windows down on a range rover that puts jeeps to shame, going 70 on roads where I am happy to have a seatbelt this one time, coca cola because it has caffeine and was the coldest thing in the gas station, a right arm significantly tanner than the left, and a dry arid space were even the passing trees are sapping the moisture out of you.Its time by Imagine Dragons: Oh America, how you just flopped all over Senegal, a bizzare situation where you feel displaced by the “normalcy” of it all, but are gently reassured by the baguette hot dog buns, german beer and panther malt [run far away], the running out of pretty much everything you should get extras off, wax-garbed musicians with djembes instead of brass drum sets, corn-hole, and bare knees galore. Oh, so this is what returning will feel like?
And Be Loved by Damian Marley: Koulgraul, or litterally cool-no-worries. A dance floor full of toubabs, half with rythm, half good people watching material, french embassy Antoine, a light rain the whole night with skies that never broke, laughs even as serious things happened.