Sorta Memory

Just listening to the Sarah McLachlan station on Pandora, and it's playing Tori Amos's "Sorta Fairytale." And for a flash, I'm standing in the kitchen of the Grace Street apartment in the middle of fall. The windows are open, twilight is settling, and the air begins to bite. Debating a glass of wine and smelling the cold. Filled with melancholy, but I don't remember why...and then, like a fairytale would, it dissolves into nothing more than an ephemeral shiver.

99aXed

It's the end of an era. As of January 25, 99x will no longer be on air. The 99.7 FM frequency is being given to what is now Q100, a top-40 rock format. The X will transition to 100.5, sans its morning show, marking the end of Leslie Fram's 15-plus-year run on the station's Morning X show.

For those of you who grew up in Georgia, listening to the Morning X was akin to watch SNL on Saturday night. It's just what you did. You tuned in to the legendary Barnes, Leslie and Jimmy morning show so that you could catch a few stellar lines and maybe hear the first spin of "Jeremy."

And then there was 99x Resurrection Sunday, which played chic rock and folk rock and folk infusion and was the first place I heard "Silent All These Years" by Tori Amos. I remember leaving Jenn's house and driving down a lonely stretch of road with Tori's voice reverberating through the old '92 Taurus and thinking, "Yeah."

99x sponsored the Counting Crows concert at Chastain Park Amphitheatre where I met Adam Duritz - who gave me his autograph while denying me me a hug. Somewhere, I still have photo of Niki, Tempe, Heather and me with the 99x poster we absconded with.

The X hosted the Jingle Jam that Sarah McLachlan headlined at the Gwinnett Civic Center where we had fifth-row seats.

And there was also Live X, which produced some amazing acoustic sets over the years.

99x has apparently fallen on hard times while I've been away. With the rise of satellite radio and the faltering popularity of alt rock against top-40 pop coupled with the departure of Barnes and Jimmy from the Morning X and difficulty finding a successful replacement combo, it looks like it's finally jumped the shark. Goodbye, 99x. Thanks for the memories.

* For you OC kids, I couldn't find the old logo - the bright yellow 99x on the black background. You know what I'm talkin' about!

Leaving: Part Five - A Room of One's Own

One of the things I've missed most about being home is my space. Granted, there's no place like home, and in home, I've been reunited with the room I grew up in. I spent many an hour there feeling like it was the one place in the world that was really mine. It's undergone several incarnations, from the Holly Hobbie wallpaper to the sunflower explosion of the 90s to its more recent makeover to nice neutral tones. But upon my return, I've found it hard to fit back into it - quite literally, between the tiny bed and the tiny dimensions, I can't physically live there comfortably. Currently, my possessions are exploding from overnight bags and boxes and littering every room in the house - and especially the floor of my tiny room, which now has only sparse patches of carpet showing so that you can step carefully through the rubble.

Crammed into my parents' house, I'm like a jack-in-the-box, stuffed without grace into a tight space and ready to spring at any moment if only I get wound up enough. As the days and weeks have rolled past, it's been impossible not to long for my house on Grace Street. Sometimes at night or in a passing moment, I'll recall my favorite details about the old apartment - the wide-board wooden floors and the places where the edges were cracking and splintering; the design on the black tin cover on the fireplace; the eerie circles of light cast upward by the living room chandelier that came from New Orleans; the thick grey plaster walls that held stains from hurricanes and air conditioner leaks; and of course, the giant many-paned windows that stretched up the walls and filtered in the sunlight, the moonlight and the view of my tree.

But there's something beyond the love of the old house itself in my longing for it. There is the point of it being a place that was mine - searched for and discovered totally on my own. And I belonged there. And I had solitude there. Though the solitude may have been too much at times and sometimes I looked forward to breaking away from it, there's a bit of me that wishes for a long stretch of quiet evening with sole possession of the remote control or the stereo or just silence if that is what I wished. Then there is the need for all my things: ready access to all my books (even if just to take them out and open their covers and flip idly through the pages without ever reading them); all of my CDs including Ray LaMontagne, Scarlett's Walk, Under the Iron Sea, and the whole John Mayer catalog which are somewhere in the storage bin; my photographs and teacups and the print of The Pink House that I love so much. Without the trappings of me, I feel a little strung out, unable to feel like much is really mine.

Just having turned 28, I think that I should be expanding out into the world. Instead, I feel like I'm shrinking, back-peddling into a former self that can fit into this house. While on some levels, it's been wonderful to reconnect with my parents and share their roof again, there are moments that I feel absolutely monstrous, like I'm going to Hulk-out and lose my mind. After so many years of relying on and only having to answer to me, myself and I, constant companionship can be stifling. Perhaps that's why I'm up past midnight most nights, relishing the quiet and the stillness. When, if I just close my eyes, I can pretend that when I open them, there will be the soft mellow glow of the downtown streetlights through the window casting shadows along the walls, all the way up to the cavernous ceiling while silence fills a space that is mine. All mine.

Second Friday

* Smelled: Honeysuckle, gardenia

* Walked: 3 miles

* Trimmed: Mom's lantana in the backyard

* Purchased: Mother's Day card

* Carried: New Target purse

* Listened: iPod...Tori Amos, DMB, Justin Timberlake, Craig David

* Watched: Pride & Prejudice

* Photographed: Kudzu, kitchen counter, resting on the dish towel

* Called: Former high school English teacher

* Scheduled: Coffee date with former high school English teacher, lunch with Jenn

* Contemplated: Nothing

* Appreciated: Thunderstorm

Pretty Good Yell

When I was in college and minoring in theatre - yes, I was going to be the next Streep - I had a professor who constantly berated us for having Ted Nugent Neck. Ted Nugent Neck occurred when you failed to project properly from the diaphragm and ended up straining your neck trying to sound loud enough. I was particularly bad about this. And on Friday, on the way home, I was listening to Tori Amos' "Pretty Good Year" and giving my all to the "HEY" part when I full on experienced Ted Nugent Neck and then - ouch. I'm not sure what happened, but I definitely felt a pop and imagined that I could hear it, too. Now I'm taking Aleve every couple of of hours to alleviate my enthusiasm.

Tori-licious

Tori Amos is releasing her 9th studio album this May. American Doll Posse will hit stores May 1 and Amos will launch a major world tour later that month. I haven't seen Tori in concert since the Choirgirl Hotel tour, Chastain Park Amphitheatre, circa 1998. I think I might have to mark my calendar for a night with her and the faeries. Based on this promo photo, one can only guess what to expect from the new album.

Music Evolution

I've kept a journal since I was about six. No really. Six. I started in a little pink journal with My Melody on the front. Around age 9, I decided I needed a new journal with a lock (to deter snooping brothers), and so for my birthday, I received a purple ice-cream cone adorned locked diary. It never quite had the right feel to me, and I never journaled in it consistently. Instead, I kept a catalogue of lists that I updated with some irregularity over the years - favorite colors and who my friends were and what my favorite songs were.

I came across the journal one of these last times I was at home, and I couldn't help getting a chuckle over the development of my music taste over the years. And so, for your amusement, I give you the following favorites songs and bands of yours truly:

*July 1989, Age 10 - New Kids on the Block, Richard Marx and Paula Abdul

*February 1992, Age 12 - While I am pleased to report that I scrawled "I Hate NKOTB" in the margin, I also listed my favorite song as "That's What Love is For" by Amy Grant

*December 1995, Age 15 - "No Rain" by Blind Melon and "Ice Cream" by Sarah McLachlan. An improvement in musical taste, but my favorite TV show was "Lois & Clark."

*June 1996, Age 16 - "Time and Time Again" by Counting Crows. Here I wrote "Pie in the Hood" in the margin. I have no idea what this means.

*February 1997, Age 17 - "Elsewhere" by Sarah McLachlan and "Lovefool" by The Cardigans

*August 1997, Age 18 - Les Mis. Everything Les Mis. Enter the freakish obsession with musical theatre.

*January 1998, Age 18 - "Brick" by Ben Folds Five

*May 1998, Age 18 - "Wish" by Pearl Jam. I had just bought tickets for Lilith Fair.

*March 1999, Age 19 - "Northern Lad" by Tori Amos and "You've Got the Music in You" by New Radicals. It had one hit wonder written all over it.

*May 2000, Age 20 - "Dancing Virginia" by Jump, Little Children and "Anybody Home" by Our Lady Peace

*June 2001, Age 21 - "Space Between" by Dave Matthews Band and "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John. Ironically, this was before grad school, and I have no recollection of why I might have noted that song...musical clairvoyance perhaps?

At least this list shows improvement. But I confess that I thought of it because my brother and I were talking at The Grill about the first tapes we remember getting as kids. His? The Ghostbusters Soundtrack and Tracy Chapman's Fast Car. Mine? Lionel Richie's Dancing on the Ceiling. There was nowhere to go from there but up - no pun intended.

DJ A.S.H.

In addition to my autumn compilation, I thought I'd put together another CD just for the drive. All songs are meant to be singable at the top of my lungs and inspire me to tap my inner diva.

1. Clocks (Coldplay)
2. Mr. Brightside (The Killers)
3. Me & Bobby McGee (Janis Joplin)
4. Babylon (David Gray)
5. Shadowboxer (Fiona Apple)
6. Plush (Stone Temple Pilots)
7. 32 Flavors (Alana Davis)
8. Ticket to Ride (The Beatles)
9. Not Ready to Make Nice (Dixie Chicks)
10. Have You Seen Me Lately (Counting Crows - Live @ Hammerstein Ballroom)
11. White Flag (Dido)
12. Body Parts (Jump, Little Children)
13. Gravity (Jennifer Nettles Band)
14. Closer to Fine (Indigo Girls)
15. Power of Goodbye (Madonna)
16. Elsewhere (Sarah McLachlan)
17. Sabotage (Beastie Boys)

Also coming along for the ride: Sam's Town (The Killers), Trouble (Ray LaMontagne), What's Golden Above Ground (Trent Dabbs), Choirgirl Hotel (Tori Amos), and O (Damien Rice). It promises to be a musical adventure.

Autumn: The Album

For me, the arrival of Halloween and the passing of daylight savings mark that point in time when fall is no longer this nebulous oncoming season but a fully emerged time of year. And some songs simply seem to capture this time of year better than others. In light of fall's full-fledged arrival and because I'll be spending an indecent amount of time in the car this weekend, I put together a little fall collection. I may catch some criticism for some of these choices, but for whatever reason, these were the songs that said fall to me this October:

1. Sparks (Coldplay)
2. Angel (Matt Nathanson)
3. Foolish Games (Jewel)
4. Everybody Hurts (R.E.M.)
5. Wait (Sarah McLachlan)
6. Just Another (Pete Yorn)
7. Falling in Love (Lisa Loeb)
8. All My Friends (Counting Crows)
9. Quite Often (Trent Dabbs)
10. Pictures of You (The Cure)
11. As I'm Leaving (David Gray)
12. New York State of Mind (Billy Joel)
13. Stop This Train (John Mayer)
14. Girl (Tori Amos)
15. The Awakening (Jennifer Nettles Band)
16. Cathedrals (Jump, Little Children)

On a Musical Note

I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music. ... I get most joy in life out of music. - Albert Einstein

I go through phases in life where I'm more or less attached to music. Sometimes I listen to the radio with general indifference, but then I enter a phase - like now - where I have to have music on every second of every day or the silence is deafening.

I remember when I was little, my dad used to play his guitar sometimes at night. He usually played old country tunes like "Tennessee Waltz" or "Frankie & Johnnie." He was completely self-taught on a guitar he bought at a pawn shop, and I have always wished I'd inherited even a trace of his musical ear. As I got older there was my sister, six years older than me, who shaped my early music tastes with the tapes she'd let me listen to while she was at school - Madonna, Wham! and Michael Jackson.

And when I first got my CD player, I only had 5 CDs that I listened to endlessly including Counting Crows' August & Everything After, Dave Matthews Band's Under the Table & Dreaming and Sarah McLachlan's Fumbling Towards Ecstasy. And from there, the collection grew and expanded. Tastes changed. Friends introduced new songs, new bands. And now I've amassed a fair collection of music. Most of which has profound meaning to me, whether in its lyrics or its connection to the past.

I love how some songs are irrevocably tied to moments in my life, and no matter when I hear them, I am transported back to that moment. "Africa" by Toto makes me think of going to the park, eating bologna and cheese sandwiches and listening to WRFC 960 AM in my mom's gray Oldsmobile with the plushy red seats. Other songs simply give me a certain feeling when I hear them - Tori Amos' "Putting the Damage On" can make me cry at the drop of a hat and David Gray's "Twilight" makes me want to go downtown and sit in a dark bar. And then there are songs that I only want to listen to under certain conditions. Like "One" by U2 and "Don't Dream It's Over" by Crowded House are best listened to when it's raining at the change of season and cold like the beginning of winter or spring.

I was telling Kim today that I wanted to make an autumn mix, with songs from This Desert Life (an inherently fallish album) and "As I'm Leaving" by David Gray. And we talked about how the songs that came out our first year of grad school make us think of fall - like "Clint Eastwood" by the Gorillaz and "Start the Commotion" by The Wiseguys. Which led me into thinking about songs that make me think of the grad school years like "Tiny Dancer" and "Sex Machine" - two songs played so relentlessly on the juke box at Cedars, I'm surprised I still like them. And "Teenage Wasteland" - (which Kim & I decided is a spring song) makes both of us feel like we're going somewhere important. Like Krispy Kreme.

I'm fond, too, in my solitude, of thinking, "If my life were a movie, what song would be playing right now?" When Kim was in town, we were all sitting at the bar, and "Here Comes the Sun" started playing and it seemed like the end of the movie when the camera is panning out from the characters and the credits start to roll and you know everything's going to work out just fine.

Ah, music. How you move me.