A Random Memory

It is a warm summer day on Block Island. A cool blue-green lagoon is located across the street from the Narragansett Inn. I grab my neon US Diver's snorkel, Hydro-fins and head for the shallows. The fins are multi-purpose; originally purchased for body boarding. It is customary to give your mask a thorough wash with saliva and salt water, which I did prior to entry.

The water is murky and cool. My visibility is poor and not quite as exciting as I expected. There is a predictable calm; a sharp contrast to the more tumultuous currents off Monahan's dock. Although somewhat dull and dissimilar to the snorkeling adventures I grew accustomed to. I lay floating around the lagoon for hours that day, one half of me submerged by the water and the other half blind, but equal parts satisfied with the overall experience.

I spent my summers in the water of Narragansett Bay, but for some reason tonight I thought of that day in Block Island, when I spent the afternoon puttering around that blue-green lagoon across the street from the Narragansett Inn.

Intial Thoughts

A few years back I got the idea from a roommate to clean, organize, and update the data and labels of my music files. My goal was to create a complete and well categorized library. It has been a slow and steady process, around two thousand songs and a few years, but ultimately very satisfying.

During the course of this project I spent my time thinking about my “music listening” experience and how it has changed over the years. As a child, I grew up listening to my father’s collection, which consisted on Credence Clearwater Revival, The Band, and Neil Young. I am very fortunate to have exposure to such great music which created a solid foundation for me to build upon.

My own personal listening experience began with an album and a machine. The album was “Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)” by The Wu-Tang Clan. It was badass and I loved every second of it. From cover to lyrical content, 36 Chambers was mystical and rebellious. The machine was an old hand me down Sony CD/Cassette player, AM/FM tuner. It had a retractable aluminum antenna and detachable speakers. There was no remote, so I usually moved through an album as the artist intended, from first track to last.

My experience today consists of roughly six thousand songs organized by track, title, and album. The machine is no longer my old Sony player, but a multitasking monster of a computer. It allows me to breeze through song after song with the flick of my finger. Rarely do I listen to an entire song in one sitting, let alone an entire album. I have removed my relationship with the artist and their given body of work, and evolved that into a more personal reactionary experience.

It’s interesting that these changes were not a conscious decision but results of pragmatism. The “Catch 22” to this situation and a direct result of my multitasking monster is the increased musical exposure I have recently enjoyed. And although I miss my earlier listening experience, I appreciate the memories.