BILMS playlist entry #1

Space Needle: “Before I Lose My Style"

All the energy that once went into making mix tapes I have redirected into perfecting my iPod playlists. I don’t think it is just a product of evolving technology; the playlists make more sense. I don’t think anybody I made those tapes for ever appreciated them. Really, they were more for me. The satisfaction came in listening to the tape before I gave it away. It was all an experiment to see how much better my favorite music sounded when arranged with other songs with a similar mood.

My most successful playlist of the last year has been a musical expression of my frustration and disappointment over finishing graduate school. I have an upbeat playlist designed to be listened to during the daytime and a moody playlist especially for nighttime. I have a playlist titled “A Little Bit Emo” that is the soundtrack for a Wes Anderson film that only exists in my head. And I have a playlist of songs that go with my upcoming novel, a playlist that served as inspiration and touchstone during the writing of the book.

This song is a pretty obvious first entry into this blog since I stole its title for the title of the book, but there is a second significance as well. It is also a song I first heard on a mixtape. When I said nobody ever appreciated my mixtapes, I was exaggerating. I can think of two exceptions. The first is my partner, Robert--but technically I gave him a playlist rather than a mixtape. (I figure I have to mention him here because he is probably the only person who will take the time to read this blog. Love you, hon!) The second exception was Aaron, this guy who I worked with at Starbucks in the mid90s. I was gay, in denial about it, living at home, and attending the local community college. Aaron was straight, barely making ends meet, and trying to make music. We mainly just talked at work and only hung out a couple times away from work. He was one of those people who you connect with for a short time in your life and then lose track of when you both move on to new things. As unlikely as our friendship might have been at the time, he gave me mix tapes I still listen to on the tape player in my car, almost a decade latter. I like to think he appreciated the ones I made him just as much. That portion of the 90s was a lonely time for me, and the connection of those mixtapes meant a lot.

The best tape Aaron gave me intermixed music with snippets of this spooky 50s children’s album. The album layered dialogue from Howdie Doodie over conservative soundbites from McCarthy-era politicians. This song was on side two of the tape.