Overkill

 

Apparently, I’m a very nostalgic person.  I was thinking about how during the fall of 1988, my senior year of high school, I made a melancholy mix tape made up of songs from my earliest purchased records, so we’re talking stuff from like 81-83.  I remember being a huge Men at Work fan in 5^th & 6^th grade and digging their goofy schtick.  By 1988, I was fully immersed in the darkness of a lot of postpunk, gothic rock and industrial, so I was pleased to choose songs like the hyper reflective and nostalgic “I Can See it Your Eyes” and the underrated “Overkill” as choices for my mix.  It was fun rediscovering these things from my then distant past.  It seems silly now, because that was only five or so years prior, but it was almost a third of my life at the time.  Now that I am officially old, five years is a blink of an eye in an ever-unchanging lifestyle.

 

Men At Work "I Can See it in Your Eyes"

I realize that it is quite meta to be reminiscing about a time that I was reminiscing about songs about reminiscing, but that’s how I seem to be built.  Besides, if one listens to these two songs closely, they will tell my story here much better and more eloquently than I can.

 

Men At Work "Overkill"

As summer turned into fall in 2004, I was sick.  I was really sick.  I’ve written about it before, so I won’t dive too far into it here, but I had been on kidney dialysis for almost three years, I was going through treatments to kill my immune system, and my skeleton was withering away.  I was dying.  I hadn’t given up, but unconsciously, I think I knew my time was coming.  I had stopped sleeping, so every night I would weed through all of my stuff and box most of it up to get rid of.  I began perusing through old stuff like all of my comic books from the early 80s and all of those old mixtapes I used to make for car rides.  Before getting rid of these things, I read the comic books and listened to the tapes.  Both would transport me not only into the world’s within, but to the times that I originally encountered them.  It was pretty powerful.  It was a slow-cooked version of having much of my isolated life pass before my eyes.  There was a particular mix tape from 1987 that blossomed a very powerful flashback to a very particular day.  It included the song by the Cure, “Why Can’t I Be You?”  I think the fact that the tape had been put together when that song was brand new, took me back to that time.  When I say “took me back,” the memory became so vivid and real that it became a powerful beacon that I began to strive for. 

 

The Cure "Why Can't I Be You?"

The flashback was from a day in 1987, likely June, just after school had ended (sophomore year).  It was a rare bright sunny and warm Saturday on the Oregon coast and I was blasting music in my bedroom, and I remember feeling antsy and likely bored.  My dad told me he was driving to Salem to drop off some commercial art he had done for a client.  I asked him if I could ride along as long as he dropped me off at a record store.  He did and I purchased the Cure’s wild new double album Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me and Concrete Blonde’s debut.  When we got home, I put on the Cure’s new album, and my headphones and was completely drawn in.  The album was epic and more than I could’ve ever hoped for.  It was everything!  Not long afterwards, I got a ride to the south end of town for a dance at our city’s Masonic Temple.  It was there that I hit the dance floor for the first time in my life (to “Why Can’t I Be You?” and Depeche Mode’s “Strangelove”) and later sort of tried my first clove cigarette (so 80s).  It was a good day!   As a memory, in 2004, it was so real – so tangible, I began to feel like I was living that day again.  I’m not sure of the significance of that day, but I wanted those feelings again.  I loved that Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me felt like it was brand new again, that I had not yet heard “Just Like Heaven” 40,000 times and had developed a dislike of the final LP single “Hot Hot Hot!!!”  Not long after this recurring flashback began to dominate all of my thoughts, I got a call for my life saving kidney transplant. 

Like a lot of people, my memories are generally tied to the music I remember from those times.  It’s an old cliché, but it is truly a soundtrack to our life stories.  Personally, I am fascinated by stories.  A lot of the old stories I’ve shared on this page, are moments in time with some deep significance for the narrator/character.  This is why I’ve been so thankful and excited about the handful of Song Stories people have sent in.  It’s these personal attachments to important songs that can sadly get lost when we go. 

A couple of weeks ago, I was listening to some Northern Picture Library and Field Mice songs in my car, as I was stuck in traffic.  I became overwhelmed by the emotion behind some of those songs.  Old wounds from heartbreak bubbled up to the surface, as did an intense longing.  I began to think about how important, not only those songs are to me, but those feelings that they still bring to the surface, which are tied to moments from my life that are only meaningful to me, and hopefully to the other players from those moments.  Then I began to think about how fleeting those moments are and how easily they disappear.  When I finally do pass, all those important moments that make up what and who I am will be gone. 

It brings up all of those old questions everyone asks themselves: “what is all of this for?”  Believe me, I’m not just now asking these things, but for some reason, it has been on my mind a lot lately.  Perhaps it’s because I’m older, wildly unhealthy, and feeling a lot lost.  There is a strong sense of purposelessness happening in my life right now.  I do not feel like I’m contributing, but instead just taking up room and valuable resources.  Perhaps it’s because I don’t feel like I used to.  I’ve reached a point in my life where I am too numb – too calloused from past physical and emotional distress.  Most news is bad news, so when I get positive news, I don’t trust it!  That life soundtrack is getting old and outdated.  New memories are rare and rarely as affecting as they used to be.  I kind of miss feeling dramatic and alive!  Am I alone on this? 

This is a long-winded call for more Song Stories!  Please share them here (tangledrec@hotmail.com).  Every story is important and I’m personally interested in why it’s important.  It can be any song and it can be anonymous.  Let’s explore these hidden moments together.

Thank you Alexandra Smith for sending me the "Overkill" video.