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Music plays a critical role in my everyday life. It gets me through my commutes to and from work and through grueling days in the dreaded office cubicle. Music is the reason I survive the mundanity that is a trip to the gym, and it’s been played during moments that have shaped me into the person I’ve become.
This article is not about any of those moments. Rather, this is about a song by Bruce Hornsby that was playing during a very routine car ride with my father when I was small. Hornsby, if you’re not aware, is a prominent 80s pop artist, probably most well known for his song “The Way It Is” which has been sampled by many popular rap artists since its release.
Simply put, he is fantastic, and much more than just “The Way It Is.” He’s got heaters for days, and any self-respecting dad has his greatest hits CD collecting dust somewhere on a shelf in his house.
There are certain songs that come across the screen of my iPhone 5 which just bring me back to very particular moments in my life. And more often than not, the song that pops up will remind me of some random, incredibly mundane moment in time where nothing of consequence happens.
I realize that this is not a shocking revelation, but I like to write about everyday observations. Don’t jump down my throat for it. Music is nostalgic as all hell. Everyone hears songs that remind them of some place or time, and last night as I walked home from work, dejected from a long day and positively dreading the crowded subway station that I was about to enter, a little diddy called “Every Little Kiss” by the one and only Bruce Hornsby started to pulsate through my wireless headphones.
It’s a dad jam if I’ve ever heard one, and goddamnit is it good. It was the live version, from the “The Way It Is” Tour back in 1986, and as I stood there on the train platform and boarded a cattle car, all of my worries disappeared.
No longer was I thinking about the homeless gentleman that smelled like urine. He tried unsuccessfully to pickpocket me as I boarded the train car and even that didn’t ruin my now suddenly cheery disposition.
The oh so familiar guitar riff from that song brought me way back, and for a few minutes I was just a kid in my dad’s car again. Here’s the song via Youtube so you can really get a feel for what I’m putting down here:
Let me set the scene. I’m nine years old, and I’ve just finished up basketball practice with my elementary school team at my district’s high school gym. I’ve got galoshes, a hefty winter jacket, and basketball shorts on, with my most prized possession (a pair of Nike Air Zoom Flight ‘98’s aka ‘The Glove’) in a duffel bag on my lap.
Here’s a picture of those shoes (also via Youtube) in case you don’t know how fire they were:
I’m riding shotgun with my dad driving, cruising down sleepy suburban streets in a jet black, mid-90s Volvo sedan as snow falls all around us. The roads are still driveable, and my dad and I are sharing a comfortable silence. His left hand is on the wheel, and his right hand is tapping the automatic shifter in the center of the car as that guitar riff I mentioned above comes in.
It’s 7:30 p.m., which in January means that it’s pitch black outside. I don’t have a care in the world, and now both me and my dad are tapping our feet to the music while the heater works overtime to keep us and the windshield from freezing over.
Nothing else happened during that car ride. But that memory sticks with me solely because of that classic song, and for that, the musician has my gratitude forever and always. Music is really fucking dank, and while I’m almost positive my dad does not remember this snowy night in January some fifteen odd years ago, I always will, and I have no one to thank other than Bruce Hornsby and The Range..
Image via Darren Brode / Shutterstock.com
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jduda@grandex.co
Hornby is a god.
If you see Micah today, give him a dap for recommending the ’87 live version of “Every Little Kiss” to me
Thank you. Absolute fire. The entire album is a go to.
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This was touching. Music can be painfully nostalgic at times but also nostalgic in a euphoric way.
Cover Me Up by Jason Isbell has fucked me up all month, I can’t stop listening to it. If anyone needs an amazing love song to get through their day, check it out
Jason Isbell rocks. Also been jamming to Trampled By Turtles lately. Wait So Long is a banger.
All his songs tend to that,
And the old lovers sing “I thought it’d be me who helped him get home”
But home was a dream, one I’d never seen till you came along
That line’s been on my mind for months. Guy’s a treasure and living proof that an artist’s best work can come while sober.
I would’ve dropped that homeless guy if he tried to pickpocket me. You know I’m always packin’
Mandolin Rain is by far my favorite
How many times a day do you hear “John, just please shut up”?
Damn son, your need for social acceptance is insufferable.