Playlist of My Life (Linky)

Here’s another song that conjures up summer memories of walking along the beach road to the Winning Post. The (only) local hangout for teens that was also referred to as ‘The Winner’. The kids clustered in groups inside and out. The locals, us regular summer residents, and the random blow-ins of that year. It was never quiet with the smack of balls on pool tables and the noisy arcade machines jangling and humming. The smell of vinegar and chips mingled with the smoke drifting in from the open doors. This song seemed to be on continuous repeat on the jukebox one summer to the point of not being sure if you loved or hated it. The Winner is still there, refurbished, still full of teens. It’s totally different to what it once looked like, yet exactly the same as it always was.

This song is all about the teenage secondary school years for me. A typical Irish single sex Catholic school with a dwindling number of nuns each year. It reminds me of the screech of chalk on blackboards and raised voices. The teachers of varying interest and aptitude for their role. Some feared, some hated, some loved. The hours of homework and study in practice for wrist-aching exams. The boredom of staid scratchy uniforms and packed lunches, filing in and out of rooms to the shrill clang of the bell. The camaraderie of cold winters spent on the hockey pitches huffing and puffing away those summer excesses. The brief summer afternoons chasing in circles for a game of rounders, frantically encouraging those who didn’t usually relish the mandatory sports classes. Finding and settling into groups based on various social currency only for Transition Year to rip them asunder and stir up brand new cliques. The minor weekly happenings of a large group of girls being blown up into dramatic teenage angst. Trying to keep track of who was best friends with whom this week, and sworn enemies the next. Alanis was guaranteed to be blaring from at least one classroom during lunchtime.

Crowded House reminds me of my College years. A lot of time was spent on buses as I crossed the city in the morning, and returned late at night after training practice. There were all those regular travellers whom you might never speak to, but whose absence you would note on the daily journey. Enough empty seats and you’d find yourself checking if you had got on the right bus. There was no direct bus to college when I started studying. The bus home to my house left from the city centre. Often at 11:25 in the evening I could be found jumping off a late bus into town and sprinting down O’Connell Street hoping to catch that vital last bus home. Frantically waving and hoping that one of the regular drivers would be on duty. They were less inclined to pull off just as you reached the stop and leave you stranded with a lengthy walk home. An mp3 player and headphones were a necessity travelling on Dublin Bus. Or just big headphones connected to nothing that still gave the illusion you couldn’t hear that racist scumbag passing comments, or the friendly but very tipsy middle-aged man who had decided that setting up two strangers sitting near him was to be his good deed of the day.

This album was my soundtrack for Australia on a post-college graduation trip with various sports teams. We were in Melbourne when 9/11 happened, sitting in cabins watching the same footage repeat over and over as some waited fearfully for news of relatives. I stayed on to do my first solo travels up to Sydney. I explored while listening to these guys, and constantly looking over my shoulder to pass comment on the sights only to remember that my group had all returned home. After getting used to never being alone in Melbourne, it was eerie to suddenly have not a single friend or relative on the same continent. This was the short gap between student and working life for me.

You know that mournful look your dog gives you as they eye up that dinner you’re callously eating in front of them? That gentle nose-nudge to remind you that they’re still there if you try turning away to ignore them because they’ve already eaten well. This song belongs to our high maintenance but loveable dog, who has always known how to make those big brown eyes work to her advantage whether it be for food, walks or a cosy place to rest her head.

Brodie and I separately discovered this song when it was released. It’s the first song that reminds me of Us. We realised we were listening to the exact same music at the same time during a text conversation one evening while I was on work training in London and he was at home. We both tried to recommend it to each other. This was a very rare occasion where I was the one away travelling for work. Usually it’s me at home (now with the kids) while he jets off to far-flung places. We’ve since seen Elbow play live a few times together, but this remains a special song.

Our wedding song. We spent an hour sipping cocktails in Mauritius and carefully choosing a wedding playlist that we were both happy with. This was first on the list as we walked out together onto the beach for our wedding ceremony. It’s one of my favourite songs. It’s also the one we chose for our ‘first dance’ back home.

This one’s dedicated to my first-born baby. I used to dance around the sitting room with him when he was too young to walk. He practised his wobbly first steps watching it play on YouTube. He still loves to shake his bootie to the Bare Necessities while his baby brother gives him the ‘you crazy!’ look. If you’re ever having a bad day then this is a tune to cheer you up. We all need some ‘happy songs’ on our life’s playlist…

Hours and hours of my life have been spent sitting in a darkened room with the Rascal trying to lull him to sleep while this played on continuous repeat. He still has it every night, and will croons it to his baby brother while making it very clear that it’s HIS night time song. (Boo prefers Hush Little Baby anyway).

We saw Jack Johnson in Dublin many years ago. He’s one of Brodie’s favourite musicians. When we took the Rascal to the Maldives on holidays a couple of years ago his music was always playing in the bars around the island resort. His laid-back style is perfect for tropical island-living. Now his music always brings me back to sitting in the shade with a mocktail or icecream cone and watching the blue ocean waves crash onto pristine shores in front of us. As for the sunsets, well you need to see those to believe them.

I had a playlist of some of my favourite songs ready for both my sons births. It was never used in the hospital, but I connected my phone to the speaker as the pool was filling for Boo’s birth. It was playing away in the background during the labour and birth. I’ll admit I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention to background music most of the time, but I do remember one of the midwives commenting to the other at how apt these lyrics were at one point. This song now reminds me of all that breathing it took to finally get to the stage where I watched my second son float up to me and take his own first breath.

“And breathe, just breathe

You shout ’cause you’re just as far in as you’ll ever be out”

Myself and Brodie are fans of Canadian Patrick Watson. I expect the haunting sound of his voice will inevitably become the background theme to our new adventures in Montreal as we build a new home for ourselves over there next month.