Flashbacks!

Okay, I’m not talking flashbacks from an inebriated night out on the town where you wake up in bed with a random, a Chinese take away and a traffic cone, I’m talking about flashback songs!

You know, that one particular song that sparks a whole ton of memories?

Driving to work this morning I scrabbled about in the door compartment looking for a CD and came across one with nothing written on the cover. The result? Pearl Jam – Ten. Fabulous, I thought, and turned up the volume.

And then it dawned on me that one song in particular was my flashback song. Ladies and gents (and all you others that might not fall into either category), I give you Pearl Jam – Alive.

A song that within a few seconds just reminds of so much about my life at the time I first heard it:

  • It reminds me of being 17 and completely changing the way I looked. I went from a pop-loving teenager to a grunge lover. My staple uniform was black tights, black DM boots, the shortest black velvet lyrca mini skirt ever, black velvet blazer and a Pearl Jam t-shirt that I wore until it had a massive hole in the side and even then I refused to stop wearing it; I just wore another black t-shirt underneath to hide the hole. Classy.
  • Oh and I also died my hair burgundy. Yeah, thats right. Burgundy pre-John Freida hair. Go figure.
  • It reminds me of my favourite play The Crucible by Arthur Miller and the 6th form school production. I was Mary Warren and the guy ALL my friends fancied was John Proctor. Hell, I fancied him. He had long hair, a Kurt Cobain-esque cardigan and sometimes wore glasses. He was the cool one. Only, one rehearsal revealed that he was not in fact, Mr Cool. He was Mr Halitosis. In a cardigan. Not cool.
  • It reminds me of going to my first festival. Someone fell on my head during the night and I wanted to go home. Spent the weekend eating nothing but pineapple and biscuits and sitting under a parachute in the ‘ambient’ tent. Say no more.
  • It reminds me of a friend no longer here. She introduced me to real music and taught me how to be more ballsy. I was endlessly jealous of her nose and belly button piercings.
  • It reminds me of a time when I was CONVINCED I would be the female Steven Spielberg. Without the beard. And the baseball caps. They’d never fit over my hair.
  • Of course, it reminds me of Eddie Vedder. The long haired, growly voiced, sweaty vest wearing rock god. My first musical love (bearing in mind we are forgetting the pre-grunge crushes Simon Le Bon, Morten Harket, Matt Goss and Jordan Knight)
  • And it reminds me of one of my earliest memories of my husband. Before we dated (but not long before). I used to make little plaits in my hair and finish them off with cute hippy beads. He told me he liked my beads. I’m pretty sure he meant the beads.

 

 

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