The concept of before and after, or then and now, is one about which I obsess. I love seeing pictures of people and, especially, places, taken years, even decades, apart. Danielle Kay, my lovely hairdresser, takes pictures of me before and after each haircut she gives me. I go around photographing places in my life that have changed over time. And, a few years ago, I sat for a photo with my father, recreating a picture taken twenty years earlier. I love this sort of thing.
So, as you can imagine, I was thrilled to see a very special image on Flickr today: a father and son in two pictures taken thirty years apart – one at the first Space Shuttle launch, one at the last. You should definitely see it for yourself.
Merciless time marches on, indifferent to the wishes of men. That is a universal truth. Each year seems to bring its own reminders of my life’s emptying hourglass. I have a high school friend whose own child now attends our former high school. I recalled today that I last attended that school sixteen years ago this month. That, in itself, is insignificant. But today is the first day of summer, and, in the course of pondering the resumption of my “Summer Songs” nostalgia bacchanale, I realized that Bryan Adams’ hit song “Summer of ’69″ was released twenty-six years ago this month. That, too, is relatively insignificant. What made me feel strange was the realization that when “Summer of ’69″ was released, 1969 was sixteen years past – just as 1995 is now sixteen years past.
As I have said before, 1969 seems to me to have had the most interesting summer of the twentieth century. But in 1985, 1969 probably seemed like it took place in another world. I cannot say the same for 1995. Though the same number of grains of sand have passed through the hourglass in the intervening years, 1995 feels like yesterday. Perhaps that’s why nobody is writing hit songs about it.
The only thing better than a summer song is a nostalgic summer song. Last April I was browsing in a store when I heard a tune playing that combined the best elements of bubblegum pop and lovesick summer reverie. It told a story of a girl falling in love, and, as is often the case, forming close associations between her love and a catchy song, but finding that, alas, “now we are September”. (And there is a significant difference between “we are” and “it is”.)
I conceived of this series when I heard this song in that store. Nothing captures the essence of summer nostalgia better than the lyric, “And every time I hear it play / I think of you and those summer days / I can still remember when I heard it on the radio”:
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
This song is fluffy disco, but has within it something powerful. This contrast will soon lead me to a new series about silly songs with profound truths. Stay tuned.
As a child, few occasions inspired as much dread for me as the dawning of a new school year. August was a month-long count-down to misery, and the Sunday night before classes began–the first “school night” of the year–was undoubtedly my least favorite date on the calendar. That date is nigh.
After a break from school that, for all intents and purposes, began last December, I am just one week from embarking on at least two grueling years of intensive study, and I am sad to see this summer pass away. I have a great deal to look forward to, but at the same time, the uncertainties are many and the fear is strong.
Furthermore, with the commencement of autumn classes, this long, glorious summer will come to an end, and I will still not understand how it could have passed so quickly.
So, before that dreaded day arrives, I will reflect on these last few months in a series of posts that I hope will answer that age-old question: how I spent my summer vacation.
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
When I was a kid we had something called MTV. It was great – like our favorite radio station, but with pictures. Every big hit song was likely to have a corresponding music video, and these videos became popular in their own right. “Take on Me”, “Sledgehammer”, and “Money for Nothing” were good songs on the radio, but their videos were amazing, and people really paid attention to them. I recall that a “world premiere” video was a big deal, and kids would wait around all afternoon to see it. Many of these videos still stick in my mind, even after most people forgot the songs they went to. Do you remember “Yankee Rose”?
MTV connected with kids because it was on when kids wanted it. Every afternoon after school, on weekends, all summer, MTV was there with videos, and almost everyone I know watched it every day.
MTV doesn’t exist anymore. Sure, I understand that there is a channel called “MTV”, but it isn’t “Music Television”. There may even be “MTV2″ or “MTV [Whatever]“, but videos don’t seem to matter to anybody anymore – at least not like they used to. MTV cannot be blamed for that, I suppose, since cable television in those days consisted of maybe thirty channels, and, as the only station of its kind, it had a captive audience it cannot take for granted today.
Still, if you were a kid in the 1980s, and you had MTV, you almost certainly remember the video for The Cars’ “Magic”. This is the MTV I miss.
The concept of before and after, or then and now, is one about which I obsess. I love seeing pictures of people and, especially, places, taken years, even decades, apart. Danielle Kay, my lovely hairdresser, takes pictures of me before and after each haircut she gives me. I go around photographing places in my life that have changed over time. And, a few years ago, I sat for a photo with my father, recreating a picture taken twenty years earlier. I love this sort of thing.