Love in the Time of... Music

I have a crush… on a song. This is actually a common occurrence in my life. I love music. I have music playing at all times. I cannot be in my apartment without it on. I can’t drive without music (or be driven somewhere without it). Even when I hate the CD we have to listen to at work, I want it on. This need, coupled with my innate neuroses, means that I often find songs I just can’t stop listening to.

Sometimes my song obsessions are just bad – like, poppy dance music that anyone who can hear what I’ve got on will want to kill me for (I still owe my college roommates for a two week-long playing session of Ludacris’ “Stand Up”). Other times, I keep entire CDs on rotation. When they become background noise, I know it’s time to switch things up. What this means is I come to know all of the music I listen to inside and out. I will remember every word to every song that’s grown on me. And I will come to associate music with people, places and events in my life: “Wild Thing” will always mean summers in North Carolina with my best friend. “You Are My Sunshine” is my mom’s song. “Juicy” plays, and I’m at overnight camp, the summer going into seventh grade. There are other songs that just invoke a variety of feelings or experiences. Those aren’t always as pleasant.

At dinner with friends this week, the topic of songs and relationships came up. Every single one of us had songs that we couldn’t listen to for a long, long time after a romantic pursuit ended. One friend mentioned that, after a particularly bad break up, she had trouble listening to The Killers and The Postal Service for a long time. Specifically, though, the song Postal Service song “Nothing Better” killed her. I haven’t had full CDs that I’ve needed to avoid. I’ve actually just had one song that I can pretty much never, ever listen to ever again: Bob Dylan’s “It Ain’t Me, Babe.”

My visceral reaction to the song started when I was sixteen and had my heart crushed by the perils of puppy love. It’s been almost seven years, and while I’m definitely over that heartache, I am not over that song. I love Bob, but I hate him for writing it. I have been convinced that various lines in the song were about me, specifically, every time I’ve reached the end of a relationship. Being the masochist that I am, though, I’ve still got it on mix tapes and playlists, and I tend to forget it’s coming until the song has started and I’ve got to sprint across my apartment to switch to the next song. This is clearly not a pretty or pleasant experience.

To prevent myself from going through such musical angst, I’ve developed a two-step plan that tends to work. And now, you too, can use it, as well:

1. Turn off all music and get out of your apartment/house/dwelling. Go outside and greet the world.
2. Move your butt to one of the following locations in search of new music:
   
   

   To Buy Music:
   AKA Records: 27 North 2nd Street
   Repo Records: 538 South Street
   Philadelphia Record Exchange: 618 South 5th Street
   Spruce Street Records and Tapes: 4004 Spruce Street

   To See Live Music:
   The Rotunda: 4014 Walnut Street
   Johnny Brenda’s: 1201 North Frankford Avenue
   First Unitarian Church: 2125 Chestnut Street (lots of R5 shows happen here)
   Fergie’s Pub: 1214 Sansom Street

That is by no means a complete list of where you can buy and hear music around town, so if you have any suggestions for good record stores or music venues, share them, please and thank you!

Image via notoriousjdt.blogs.com.