bird

On the drive home from Rome this morning I was listening to "Big Bird in a Small Cage" by Patrick Watson. I remember hearing this song for the first time like it was yesterday; granted it was not all that long ago, but there is something nostalgic about this song that upon hearing it transports me right back to West Coast discoveries. This song was a personal anthem for a solid month. I was laying in my bed, back in Tempe, AZ for the Bach Festival, eating Cheerios and listening to "Q with Jian Ghomeshi" for new bands to follow in between episodes of "Law and Order SVU." Evening rehearsals with the Phoenix Chorale were the only thing on my agenda for that week. For the remainder of the week I defied regressing to bad habits due to the eerie silence and ghosts of the past several months in that old apartment. I needed noise.

I heard this song and it kicked my spirits into high gear. I listened to that song recurrently. The song was on repeat in San Francisco as I was getting ready for nights out on the town in the small, USAHostels four bedroom. I associate the subdued vocals of Watson with the scent of tea tree conditioner and after-shave balm from The Body Shop. "You put a big bird in a small cage and it will sing you a song." Suffocation will do that to a person. Make the best of it, right? If everyone tells you to "just breathe" you might as well use the oxygen to sing loud and with joy, right?

I am not sure if it was the milieu of the East Coast like city, the long drive from central Arizona to think, or the fun new hobbies like granola and weight loss. When I returned to opera rehearsals I felt more invigorated, empowered and, well, healed. In control.

Like this big bird was ready to sing proudly in that small cage.

Thanks Patrick Watson, for that. And thank you San Francisco for the first good croissant and Blue Bottle espresso... and Garrison Keillor for my discovery of Sara Watkins.

That weird voyage to the Mission District.

What an odd time in my life... even looking back at the old blog posts from that time (the first, in fact). Sometimes finding the upswing of your life takes way more effort than it should but the results that can be manifested from such realizations are so necessary.

The unspoken importance of music in the enrichment of the human condition is all in the song. And in the mind, but mostly in the heart. And the ear.

Guster's "I Hope Tomorrow's Like Today" reminds me of my last night driving around in Waterville before my first semester of college. Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" is associated with Halloween in Oswego, as is Barenaked Ladies' "Everything to Everyone." Mozart's Requiem reminds me of everything. Handel's Messiah brings me back to Rosch Recital Hall every single time. Ben Folds' "Cologne" - Jesus, I can still smell the disinfected atmosphere inside my newly purchased two door 1998 Green Honda Civic with the brand new Arizona registration and the busted window while on my first cathartic pilgrimage to Flagstaff.

What songs or albums do this to you; elicit such vivid senses?

I'm not in Arizona right now come to think of it...I remember being thrilled about being there for the first several weeks. Slowly the new furniture and house living necessities matriculated in. Sleeping on the floor for several weeks, but eventually getting cable to watch football games and eating Dominos pizza. Listening to a pirated "Way to Normal" during runs/walks up and down University Drive.

I explored Arizona that semester. This year I will be exploring Massachusetts. Everthing old is new again, as Steven Page would sing. And I miss Arizona just a little at least for the warm weather and the Jaime's Pizza. But I miss the Arizona where I was an explorer and without any of the superfluous business that came about it.

But I missed the autumn more. My time to explore and to start over again begins in one week. I wonder what music will be associated with this period of my life when I can look at it retrospectively.

It is cold this morning. I am sure to drive to Victor again to visit with Molly and Joe. Weekend drives are my absolute favourite.