Have you
ever had one of those songs that you absolutely can’t get enough of come into
your life? It happens to most of
us. A song you play over and over again
for days and weeks. What are some of
those songs? Think about what was
happening in your life during that time.
Did the song play into those circumstances or was it simply an ear worm
that burrowed its way into your mind?
How often does this happen to you?
For me, it happens a few times a year, but some of them are more
memorable than others. One that
especially stands out is the song “Cayman” by Mira.
As the year
2000’s spring turned into summer I found out, first via a continuously
intensifying never ending headache and then by a doctor’s diagnosis, that I had
a rather large brain cyst expanding inside my brain stem (see first warnings
signs story here: Road to Nowhere). Even though the neurosurgeon told me that if
I hadn’t have scheduled the MRI and follow up appointment with him that the
rate of the cyst growth would kill me within a couple of months, my surgery to
remove said cyst wasn’t scheduled for another six weeks. It was during these six weeks that my life
became very strange.
Having
something the size of a large navel orange in the center of your head does unusual
things to a person. Besides the constant
intense head pain, I began to lose feeling on the left side of my body. Not complete paralysis, but that “my leg’s
asleep!” kind of tingly numbness. There
was also a slow change in perception of colors.
Blues became yellows, greens became purples, and a lot of colors became
a pale pink. I began to crave certain
chemical smells. I began to crave the
bowling alley/bus station bathroom smell created by things like generic label
Pine Sol, and dirty ashtrays. I also managed
to get the hiccups for nearly two weeks without letup, which wasn’t as bad as
it would seem. They made me laugh a lot
while in the presence of others. It was
impossible to get out an uninterrupted sentence, but I just kept going. Sleep was tough, but necessary to find any
kind of relief. The other ways, I
managed with the pain was to walk all the time.
It was hot out, but I had to keep moving. It was golf too. Even though I needed help getting the ball
out of the hole (I would fall down when I bent over), it was one the rare times
I felt fairly ok. The activity must’ve
been enough of a distraction to keep the pain slightly under control.
Music, my
usual go to source for comfort, was not much help. I had a difficult time focusing. I have always taken time to listen to albums,
not as background music, but as the
only focus – with headphones. This was
tough to do with that throbbing beast in my head. Also, the sounds often became grating and
hard to manage, which was a nightmarish proposition that I could not
comprehend. There were a couple of
exceptions. The breezy “Bringin’ Me Home”
from Mojave 3 being one. The other was “Cayman” by Mira. I came across this song via the Italian music
magazine Losing Today and its pretty solid companion dream pop CD
compilation Painted Dream II. Surprisingly, I have no recollection as to
how I ran across this magazine. Maybe I
bought it through pennyblackmusic.co.uk,
or Parasol Mailorder, I’m not sure. What I am sure is that I would listen to “Cayman”
sometimes six or seven times in a row each time I fired up the old sound
machine and I did not remove that song from my player until weeks after I had
the brain surgery.
There is a
poignant power in the music of “Cayman.”
It builds dramatically, yet effortlessly. It soars and glides, but is given great depth
with its pounding drums and swells of buzzing guitar. Regina
Sosinki’s shining vocals fit the soundscape perfectly. Besides being an epic song, I’m not certain
why this one in particular was, not only one of the only songs I could manage
to listen to peacefully, but the only one that was truly therapeutic during
that time of my life. A single song,
which seems to be about a cat, managed to guide me through six plus weeks of
unbearable pain and excruciating anxiety, better than anything else.
Later that
summer, I finally purchased and enjoyed Mira’s self-titled debut album, along
with their other two albums (and one rarities compilation), but it was the
endless plays of “Cayman” during the summer of 2000, and hundreds of times in
the years since, that will always be of great comfort. I have never grown tired of this song. Thank you.
Mira "Cayman"
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