Musical Memory

Do you ever torture yourself with music? I do. Sometimes a certain song will transport me to the best and worst times of my life. It’s like an auditory scab-picking or sticking a finger into a wound to elicit feeling. Music is amazing that way. This phenomenon is called “music-evoked autobiographical memory.” It happens spontaneously and mostly that rapid recall of memories is out of our control.

Music makes us stop and take note of how we feel. It’s tied to our highs like wedding dances and graduation parties—it also finds us at our lows like breakups and funerals. Sometimes shuffle play can take me through a myriad of emotions. I have some songs that when they pop up my whole mindset shifts. The first acoustic album by the band Bayside transports me almost at once to a memorial service the week we got home from Iraq. I listened to that album on repeat during our out-processing period. It always reminds me of that dissonant homecoming era.

The Gap Band reminds me of dancing wildly with my siblings on our dad’s weekends. He would pump classic rock and funk through his massive stereo system. We’d go nuts. My mom loses her mind when the electric slide comes on. Any wedding or party playing that song will find her leading the dance floor. Certain Christian songs remind me of the years my wife led worship at various churches and outreach events. I miss her singing but that’s another story. When 2000s-era hardcore and metal play in the rotation, that old familiar angst rises in my blood. Once the breakdowns slow to halftime, I forget I’m in my 40s and pretend I’m an angry teen again. When I hear late 90s punk rock I reminisce on when skateboarding was my entire personality.

I have a small wind-up stuffed elephant that I was given as a baby. It lives in my attic now. When I placed it in those dark recesses, I mistakenly wound the music box within the elephant. “You Are My Sunshine” struggled to play. Tears filled my eyes, and I remembered my grandmother singing that to me with her raspy voice. Music can detonate memories like an improvised explosive device at any time. Our brains are so amazing.

Sometimes it’s not even music that takes me back, but a sound. Bobwhite quail calls remind me of summers spent in South Carolina with my grandmother’s family. The high-pitched tingling of an aluminum bat connecting with a baseball reminds me of Little League. The trilling of toads takes me back to adventures that span a couple of continents. The high idle of a diesel motor reminds me of the countless hours using large vehicles in the Army. Seagulls always remind me of either beach vacations—obviously—or a Hardee’s parking lot in summer.  

Do you have songs or sounds that always take you to another time and place? Do you listen intentionally to them to illicit those memories or let them catch you off guard? Are there songs you avoid?