This is such a huge project, I don’t know where to begin, or how to organize things, or even what songs to include. I’m 23, so I decided 23 songs was a good number, and even though these stories didn’t occur on any kind of annual basis, the list is arranged, more or less, chronologically. Some of these songs I haven’t thought about in ages, while others I listen to every couple of days. At the end of the day though, it’s all music, and all music is based around stories; so here are some of my stories, and the music that goes with them.

Johnny Clegg & Savuka – “One (Hu)Man, One Vote”

Really, I could have picked nearly any song by this groundbreaking South African group. They were the first ever racially-integrated band in Africa during apartheid. They were also my first ever favorite band. My parents used to tape the musical performances on “Saturday Night Live” and similar programs because even back then, I totally dug the tunes; one night, Clegg and company were on one of the shows. I’m not sure if it was the outfits or the traditional African dancing, or the utterly unfamiliar but still totally approachable nature of the music, but I was hooked. My parents bought me three albums on cassette, and I listened to them all the time. As I got older, the politically-inspired lyrics in songs like this led me to look into some of South Africa’s history, and truly appreciate this band’s pivotal role in their own culture. They had a couple of minor hits in the States (including “Great Heart,” which was covered by Jimmy Buffett), but due to the fact that roughly 50% of their lyrics are in Zulu, they’ve remained mostly under the radar. One time I tried checking out a “teach yourself Zulu” book from the library to help me decipher the lyrics I couldn’t understand, but quickly gave that up. I guess I could look up translations, now that the internet is around and stuff, but any more, I kind of like the mystique that surrounds these familiar, well-loved songs. I know what they’re singing about, even if I don’t know the words.

Yes – “Siberian Khatru” (live)

When I was really little (five, six years old), my dad would take me to the airport in Schaumburg, not far from where we lived at the time. I don’t know the actual name of the place, because I always called it “the little airport.” Anyway, it’s still there, but when we would go, it wasn’t developed, and you could just park on top of this hill and watch the prop planes land and take off, walk around and look at the planes on the ground, and just generally have some quality father-son bonding time. My dad’s car had a CD player, which I thought was just the coolest thing—at the time, we still only had a tape deck in our home stereo system—but he only had about three CDs, one of which was “YesSongs,” the live album by Yes. At that age, I had no use for sprawling progressive-rock opuses, but I sure liked raucous guitar licks, and for years and years, “Siberian Khatru” was the very definition of raucous guitar licks. It’s been nearly twenty years now, but I still think of spending time with my daddy, watching the airplanes at the little airport, when I hear this song.

Jimi Hendrix – “Little Wing”

When I was little, I used to hate slow songs. Then I heard my dad’s friend play “Little Wing” on guitar, and it changed my mind. The original recording is kind of a dreamy ballad, but it’s got spirit and vitality, and some of the niftiest guitar playing Hendrix ever recorded. Even before I hit the inevitable adolescent classic-rock phase, I would listen to “The Wind Cries Mary” and “Castles Made Of Sand” and “Little Wing,” and somehow, even though they were a little slower than the rest of what I liked, they still managed to rock.

Third Eye Blind – “10 Days Late”

Third Eye Blind’s “Blue” was the first album I ever bought with my own money. I listened to it constantly, knew every word (especially the “F” word in “Darwin”), and would even play it when my parents were around (except for “Darwin”). One day, I was in the car with my parents, and this song came on, and my mom asked me for the lyric sheet. I was convinced I was somehow getting in trouble, that there was some hidden meaning somewhere in the lyrics I didn’t know, and I wasn’t going to be allowed to listen to my CD again. She just read through the lyrics and said something to the effect of, “Wow, that’s really nicely put.” While I do agree, and could go on about the meaning of the lyrics, whenever I hear this song, I just think of the profound sense of relief I felt that day.

Dr. Dre/South Park – “Forgot About Timmay”

A buddy put this on a mix CD for me when I was about twelve or thirteen. Needless to say, it instantly appealed to my sense of humor at that age. But, growing up in a house where rap was totally despised, it was also my first real exposure to hip hop music. It took a few years, but I eventually developed an appreciation for good hip hop; but this song still makes me laugh like a goddamn twelve-year-old.

Vertical Horizon – “The Man Who Would Be Santa”

Songs like this are the reason this band was my favorite for years and years, despite extended periods of inactivity and disappointing later releases. This song was released in 1994, but I didn’t hear it until 2001, which would have put me at fourteen years old. As anyone who has ever been fourteen should know, being fourteen kind of generally sucks a lot. You’re confused and emotional and feel like the whole world is usually working against you, and it’s damn hard to be sure of anything. I think that’s why this song was such a relief to me when I heard it, because the message is simply that your parents will always love you and be proud of you, whether you’re their little boy or girl, or their rebellious teenager, or an adult making your own way. This song was written to end a period of estrangement between the singer and his own father, but when I heard it, it struck a really personal chord in me at the time. I think there are a handful of other songs that have made me cry, but this one was the first, and they were tears of pure adolescent gratitude.

Pennywise – “Bro Hymn (tribute)”

I got stuck working on a science fair project with this kid Kyle my freshman year of high school, and we couldn’t stand each other. Then one day, we got to talking about music, and Pennywise came up. We put this song on (followed by GNR’s “Paradise City”), rocked out for awhile, got back to work on our project, and he was one of my best friends for the rest of high school. As sad as the song is, it still manages to be almost forcefully optimistic, and brings like-minded people together—which is almost certainly how Jason would have wanted it.

The Replacements – “I Will Dare”

The first time I heard this song was when I was fourteen years old. I was just starting down the road to my unhealthy obsession with rock music, and while I’d heard of the Replacements, I didn’t know anything about them. The Dundee Library had a copy of “Let It Be,” and I thought it was pretty funny that they’d lifted the Beatles’ album title, so I picked it up. By the time the opening track was over, I was hooked. The song, like the rest of the album, is so brilliantly constructed that it resonates just as strongly with me now as it did nearly a decade ago. Taking that CD home and putting it in the computer, as cliché as it sounds, was a moment I’ll never forget in and of itself.

Weezer – “Tired Of Sex”

Remember being an adolescent, and absolutely convinced that everyone else has had more sex than you? This song floored me, because it was the first time it ever occurred to me that even sex was something that could become mundane. I was vacuuming the living room the first time I ever listened to “Pinkerton,” and I literally remember turning off the vacuum after about two minutes, starting the song over, and just thinking “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” or something to that effect. The next time I was listening to that record, I was also vacuuming the living room (I liked to listen to CDs while I did my chores), and I’d forgotten about the song since last time. The second time through, it didn’t make the same kind of impression—I basically just thought about it, shrugged, and carried on—but after that, it made the absence of sex in my teenage life a little more bearable. In an interesting side note, I’m fairly certain I scored this record from the Dundee Library on the very same trip I grabbed that Replacements record…

Gin Blossoms – “Found Out About You”

I was at a Gin Blossoms show, right up in front, age fifteen. I shouted for this song, they played it, and it was the highlight of the set. Years later, I got to interview the band and party with them on their tour bus. I still love the Gin Blossoms, and fuck you, Fred. I decide to use the version from “Dusted,” because it’s a lot closer to the way it’s played live.

Flickerstick – “Smile”

This song was on the first CD I ever had to review for the Daily Herald job I held for roughly seven years. I was familiar with the band from their stint on VH1’s “Bands On The Run,” easily my favorite reality show ever, and I remembered liking this song when they’d play it on the show. When I listened to the CD, I was just floored by the recording quality. It was the first time I’d ever listened to music with such a critical ear, and it was also the first time I’d been knowingly exposed to Tom Lord-Alge’s enormous rock production sounds. His records may be slick as hell, but even if that’s not your thing, he gets sick tones, and the guy knows how to make shit breathe, man.

Sunny Day Real Estate – “Guitar and Video Games”

I don’t even remember how I got a hold of this song, but it wound up on my computer somehow. I didn’t listen to it for years, probably because it’s such a slow starter. Finally, my WinAmp (hell yeah) was on shuffle, and the song came on. I honestly didn’t know what to make of it at all, but it brought back this really obscure memory from my childhood of sitting in a cardboard box and sliding down the stairs. To this day, I have no idea why, but at least partially because of that odd memory, it remains my favorite SDRE song, and it really increased my appreciation for the gradual crescendo.

Fall Out Boy – “Dead On Arrival”

I’d seen Fall Out Boy a couple of times at free shows opening for 5o4Plan at the Metro, and Joe Trohman and I had met through mutual friends once or twice. They were okay, but nothing special. I heard they’d been picked up by Fueled By Ramen and were recording a CD with a real producer (Chicago wunderkind Sean O’Keefe, as it turned out), and had supposedly upped their game. Joe sent me a promo disc with two tracks from the new album, including this one. The sound, in addition to being more cleanly recorded, couldn’t have been more different from what I was used to. They sounded more confident, a bit more mature, and by god had their knack for writing hooks increased. That first Fall Out Boy full-length remains one of my favorite pop-punk records ever, despite all the overplayed tripe they’ve been peddling ever since. But this song, to me, was really the first time I’d ever heard a local musician I had actually met catch a big break. It was cool.

Christopher John – “The World Has Turned And Left Me Here”

This is one of my very favorite Weezer songs, but Christopher John took it to a whole new level. Not only was this one of exactly two worthwhile tracks on the Weezer tribute album (The Stereo did a pretty awesome cover of “El Scorcho”), but the arrangement and his quavery vocals accentuate the profound sense of adolescent alienation that, frankly, I didn’t even know the song contained. I love Rivers Cuomo, especially what he did in the 90s, but from a straight-up performance standpoint, this version does it for me every time. This is when I realized that covers can actually be legitimate in their own right, when done properly.

Eve 6 – “Girlfriend”

I went through a really messy breakup when I was sixteen. I have since realized this is almost a universal experience, but at the time (just like everyone else), I was sure I was the only one who had ever felt that kind of pain before. I guess this song was kind of a reality check—here is this super-popular rock band, with a song expressing exactly the same feelings I was having. I’ve never believed a singer was singing anything “just for me,” and I still don’t, and to be honest, it’s comforting. As much as I hate to admit it, Eve 6 is the band that got me through my first really bad breakup.

Suburban Legends – “High Fives”

I was standing in line, waiting to get into the Reel Big Fish show at the Congress theater, when the guys from Suburban Legends came walking down the sidewalk. I’d seen them the last time they were in Chicago, and it was easily one of the most fun shows I’d ever been to. I loved their CD, and had even reviewed it for that week’s Daily Herald entertainment pullout. I flagged the guys down, and in a fit of sixteen-year-old rudeboy fandom, told them just that. They thought it was pretty cool, so they asked if I wanted to join them for some tacos across the street. I hopped out of line, followed them over, and because I had only enough cash for a t-shirt in my pocket, wound up being bought tacos lenguas by Aaron Barrett from Reel Big Fish. To this day, I’m not sure if I would ever have tried tongue on my own, but anymore, it’s usually what I order when I eat authentic Mexican.

Neutral Milk Hotel – “Two Headed Boy”

The first time I heard Neutral Milk Hotel, a friend burned me a copy of “In The Aeroplane Over The Sea” right after it came out, and I liked the title cut but hated the rest. Then, a couple years later, I pulled the disc out again, and was completely sucked in. Around that time, I’d been listening to a lot of safe, predictable pop music, and this was the record was what helped me see that music that was uncomfortable and jagged could still be pop music. The lyrics in “Two Headed Boy” in particular kept reoccurring to me, the strangeness of the imagery, the nature of the confusing relationship between narrator and subject. This song led to all sorts of suitably pretentious indie music, but so many of the great artists I’ve discovered since then make me think back to the weird little twinge I felt the first time I heard Jeff Mangum sing about placing fingers through the notches in your spine…

Television – “Marquee Moon”

I was watching an interview with Moby, and he said this song had his favorite guitar solo. I don’t know if I agree with that completely, but this song and album essentially inspired me to look deeper into the late-70s CBGB’s music scene. It’s not exactly a story, but this song definitely belongs on my mixtape.

The Hold Steady – “Your Little Hoodrat Friend”

On the train to Lollapalooza in 2006, I had a massive mix of about 70 artists who were going to be at the festival, one song each. Most of it I had either heard before, or was only idly interested in, but this track really grabbed me. It wasn’t until “Boys And Girls In America” came out the following year that I realized I’d found my new favorite band, but this is the first track I ever heard by them, and it’s still one of my favorite songs to see the guys play live. I’m guessing it’s just because of the circumstances, but this song always makes me think of the Metra…

Fugazi – “Repeater”

I saw Joe Lally from Fugazi play a solo show. It was really, really terrible. The whole drive home, I just put this album on repeat, and this song in particular was the one that made me the angriest, because it’s everything his performance hadn’t been—catchy, emotive, intense, just interesting. It was just a shame.

Buddy Guy – “Damn Right I’ve Got The Blues”

One night, Andy and I were hanging out in my apartment at school. We were trashed, listening to blues records and smoking cigarettes, because it seemed like the thing to do. Whenever we’d go outside, we’d take my iPod out and plug it into my car, so the music didn’t have to stop. I’m pretty sure it was the last time we went inside, we were listening to this song, and having one of our frequent animated discussions about how totally kickass Buddy Guy is at pretty much everything blues-related. I put the iPod down on the windowsill to unlock the door, and must have left it there when we went inside for the night. That’s how I lost my first iPod.

The Ramones – “Bonzo Goes To Bitburg (My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down)”

I was at a Halloween party dressed as a schoolboy when suddenly I knocked a Victorian aristocrat’s wife’s drink out of her hand. This song was played by the best Ramones cover band I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen four total.

Andrew W.K. – “She Is Beautiful”

And finally, here it is—the obnoxious girlfriend story. There had to be one, right? Anyway, this one takes place on the night of our first date. It had gone fantastically well: sushi for dinner, followed by hanging out at the local hookah bar, which led to her accepting my invitation to have tea and continue our conversation at my apartment before calling it a night. Naturally, part of the conversation had centered around music, which was when we learned of our mutual love and respect for Mr. Andrew W.K., the man who deserves at least an honorary doctorate in partying. In a fit of boldness (read: “desperate corniness”), I decided this song was the perfect soundtrack for the brief ride back to my place. She laughed, I laughed, and for as many times as I’ve listened to this song, that’s the one time that will keep sticking out in my mind.

Tags: The Eternal Mixtape Project

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