Painting Memories with Music
Driving down an empty road under the sweltering heat of summer, the AC is off to preserve the car’s functionality. I shift gears as my mother tells me to slow down. I sigh, because this is what driving a car with family as passengers is like. Of course it's not all bad, as a driver I naturally get to pick the music. ‘Maybe today is the day. Today I'll show them my music.’ I think for a moment before requesting my song. Clanging bells erupt in the car; then tranquillity.
Text Kyriaki Mallioglou
Image Miranda Tate
Be it when you are creating memories alone or while you are showing a friend a song you discovered, the beauty of music lies in that it unites. It creates a force that disperses and bonds people to each other. The Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd is an album that has done just that in my life. And while many smart and passionate people in my life have let me know that my fascination with this band and this album in particular can be a little silly, I make a case for unabashedly liking something and not losing the will to share it.
Driving my family around during vacation is one of many bonding moments that have stayed in the memory bank. Translating the lyrics to Time for them as they listen to one of my favourite songs. A song that they have heard many times before, yet never translated in their native tongue. Diffusing tension in a car ride and connecting to each other through words and beats meant to unify.
Another memory I hold dear is the morally deflating realisation that as a woman, most of the music I listen to is sung, written or played by men. Throughout interacting with these feminist thoughts I listened to Great Gig in the Sky, which features what I consider to be some of the most touching female vocals I have come across. The relationship between gender and music still fascinates me. Relating to artists of both genders respectively or as one, shows me that sound can transcend gender, or depending on the lens you are using, perhaps reinforce it further. Either way, important realisations come out of moments like these, so I decide to cherish them.
The ending sequence of Dark Side starts with the lyricless song, Any Colour You Like. I’ve mentioned to friends before that I hope that when my final memories play this is the song that accompanies them. Maybe this is where the silliness comes out to play a little bit. Yet, once again, I am unashamed to admit it. The next song in the sequence is Brain damage, which so effectively follows my morbid fascination in musically scoring my own death. A song about a ‘lunatic on the grass’ never felt so relatable. Finally, Eclipse brings us to the precipice of auditory comfort, letting go of uncertainty and worldly inhibitions.
If I didn’t leave you with a burning need to go listen to this album for yourself, I hope to have left you with at least the best advice I’ve ever received: be passionate about what you love and dont be ashamed to show it.
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