Credit

One of the many things that changed drastically after the birth of my daughter 2 years ago was that I stopped listening to music. Not entirely, of course; there was plenty of little kid music playing in the house, and there's classical music on and off.  But my music was conspicuously absent.

Like many, my most potent childhood memories are accompanied by a soundtrack.  My first kiss at a school dance, the first time I cut class and hung out in the park sharing walkman headphones with my friend, the first time I drove without an adult in the passenger seat.  The music of my early years was heavy on the Smiths and the Beatles, but also on Michael and Janet Jackson and Whitney Houston.

College has its own soundtrack, as does my semester abroad in Paris and the years immediately afterwards.  Ticket stubs from those years reflect my ongoing efforts to figure out where I fit in: Ani DiFranco, A Tribe Called Quest, Air, Belle and Sebastian.  I went to Lilith Fair, but also to the Smokin' Grooves Tour.  I saw Dylan one July, and the Roots the next.  My first summer in New York has its own incredibly exhilarating set list that is so deeply seared into my heart that a fleeting snippet can transport me right back to the sweltering platform at the W. 4th train station.  God, what a summer.

I can tell you every song we chose to play at our wedding, every jam the band cranked out while our friends and family danced in the mud after that rogue rainstorm.  I'll never erase the playlist I had but never used during my labor with my daughter.

My transition to early motherhood was not easy. I struggled to find my footing and figure out how to adapt to my new life.  I think that's why all I did was listen to Elizabeth Mitchell and her crew--I let myself forget how music could make me feel like myself again.

I was stuck in traffic the other day, staring aimlessly out of the window.  My fingers were tapping a little dance on the steering wheel.  Something deep in my brain was starting to shimmy.  Beastie Boys. The Shins.  Nirvana. The Pixies. You know that feeling where you're walking down the sidewalk and the sun in shining and you're wearing a rocking outfit and your hair looks good and anything in the world is possible? The radio station woke me right up.

So I need to give credit where credit is due. Boston radio, you kick South Central Wisconsin radio's ass.  I've been listening to this all day, and I don't plan to stop.