A little look at the joy of making mixtapes, the relationship between music and memories, and a few b-sides…
I’ve been making a bunch of mixtapes recently. Well, mix CDs, but mixtapes sounds cooler. It’s what I like to do between reading old Hit Parader magazines and watching Pauly Shore movies. There is a joy in it. Picking out some of your favourite albums and songs may ensure many car sing-alongs, but coming across those albums that have been sitting on the bench is like bumping into an old friend. And sure, some of those old friends are true old friends where you pick up where you left off, while other old friends are like those you bump into and exchange numbers and a ‘we’ll have to catch up’ even though you never do because, well, that was a different time.
They say there is an art to such a thing, and opinions vary on the dos and don’ts. Know your audience is a big one, which of course is considerably easier if the audience is you. You should start big and end big, or begin and end with a chilled song depending on your mixtape’s flavour. How important is flow, order and authenticity? Is repeating an artist acceptable, or is that a golden no-no. To make a theme or not to make a theme, that is the question. When in doubt, keep it short and tight. Give the mix a name that demands attention. It’s all fun and games.
It’s easier than it once was, however. The old cassette had its problems. Like stubbing your toe, the colourful and inventive flurry of words that would fill the air following that dreaded sound of a tape click seconds before a song had run its course was something else. Timing became a matter of skill and pride. If you enjoyed the song enough for a repeat listen you had to rewind. You didn’t go far enough? Try again. Dang, you went too far this time.
Today, there are music services that ensure making mixes is a relative breeze. I love my CD collection, however. While I may not be able to tell you when I purchased them, I think I could remember where I purchased the majority. A simple pleasure I have always found in life is buying a new album and having a listen as I read through the liner notes. I always appreciate when an artist puts in the song lyrics, or tells a little story about the album’s recording process – maybe include a few behind-the-scenes photos. Making mixes with CDs becomes a longer process, but (for me) a more satisfying one.
So, can science be of help? The Art of Creating a Mixtape – A Data Science Approach is an interesting write-up for towardsdatascience.com. In it, author Shaham utilised Spotify’s ‘Acoustic Features’ of Acousticness, Danceability, Energy, Loudness and Valance to create an Interactive Dashboard that would allow him to roam his library in music map form. You can explore his scientifically-driven goal for mixtape excellence through https://s-farooq.github.io/musicmap.
You also have High Fidelity’s Rob Gordon, played by John Cusack in the 2000 film adaptation. First, you need to start with a bang, he says, in order to draw the listener in. From there, you need to kick it up a gear, before you let it cool down as to not “blow your wad”. There are a lot of rules, he says.
Personally, I think mixtape rules are largely stupid. You want to follow GWAR with Vanessa Carlton? Go at it – more power to you. You want to, say, make a themed mix where every song asks a question because you think it would be mildly amusing to be able to answer said questions in the car? Why, I would say that sounds like the work of a quality individual. You want to pick songs from soundtracks of Bill Murray movies for a comBILLation CD? I like the cut of your jib.
This article, however, isn’t solely about how I spend my cold and lonely Saturday nights (even if the mixtapes are totally rad). I want to write a little about how certain music can trigger certain memories. And in making mixtapes, it’s not uncommon for the mind to wander.
In an article published by Psychology Today in 2021 (Why Does Music Evoke Memories?), they reported that our long-term memory is divided into two types: explicit memory and implicit memory. Explicit memory (also known as decorative memory) is deliberate, such as textbook learning, and can fade in the absence of recall. Implicit memory is unconscious and automatic, such as hearing the first few words to a song and being able to run-on with the lyrics.
Further, the article explained that the strongest memories are those that take place between the ages of ten and thirty. Psychologists refer to this as the “reminiscence bump”, and music that falls within this bump can be associated with greater memories than those during other times. This could be due to significant events falling within this timeframe (first love, graduation), and because our teenage years are where our music tastes are often shaped. For those of a particular generation, Elton John’s ‘Candle in the Wind’ may forever be linked to Princess Diana’s funeral, while others may link Green Day’s ‘Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)’ or Vitamin C’s ‘Graduation (Friends Forever)’ to their graduation.
For me, an example can be found when I was in my early twenties. A lifetime ago now, I lost someone incredibly close to me. When my brother discovered the news, he came around and spent some time by my side. In a move to perhaps soften the moment, he put Radiohead’s The Bends on in the background. It would be years before I could listen to the album again for every time I heard one of the album’s tracks, I was right back at that day. While the reaction is not what it once was, the link with the memory will always be there. I can listen to it comfortably now, which pleases me, as I love the album.
I was mindful of this last year when my dad passed away. It may seem like an odd thing to occupy the mind, but thoughts don’t always make sense and anyone who has lost anyone close knows how noisy the mind can become. The morning before, I was playing Magic Dirt in the car on the way to the hospital. Their Friends in Danger album, more precisely, which is undoubtedly one of my ‘desert island’ albums. Later in the day, I was informed the old man had 24 hours left in him. I would drive to the hospital again that day, and the following morning, in silence.
Eleven days later, at his funeral, was the first time I had listened to music since. Paul Simon’s ‘Graceland’ was one of the songs picked out. It’s tough business choosing funeral songs. He was, however, a big fan of Simon’s Graceland album, one of a select few he had at his former workplace and one he played soon after a hospital stay in 2020. The album is a beauty.
Via a bootleg, Paul Simon was introduced to the South African street music Mbaqanga. In an interview with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Simon would say: “Graceland is really the true hybrid of South African music and American – even more than Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes or You Can Call Me Al, which are closer to Township Jive.”
He continues, talking about singing over and over again ‘I’m Going to Graceland’ but second-guessing himself as he couldn’t see a song to be had about Elvis Presley. Leaving things as they were until something better came along, the lyric kept nagging him enough to eventually make the trip to the song’s destination. Telling no one, he found the experience underwhelming; that is, until he stepped outside.
The words on Elvis’ grave read “Elvis Presley, whose music touched millions of people all around the world”. Upon seeing those words and realising the impact one man had on so many people, Simon was brought to tears. The song then became about a journey between a man and his son to mend a broken heart. It is one of the songs of which he is most proud.
But I digress.
In an article titled What makes music memorable? Relationships between acoustic musical features and music-evoked memories and memories in older adults (journals.plos.org), the authors refer to the music-memory link as Music-Evoked Autobiographical Memories, or MEAMs. These music-triggered memories are typically linked with emotions, generally positive. They can trigger the sights, sounds and feelings of a past event. However, the relationship remains somewhat cloudy as not all familiar songs elicit MEAMS. And sometimes unfamiliar songs can trigger MEAMs as well.
In short, they concluded that a strong emotional experience creates a strong memory and that the more intense the reaction to a song, the more intense the MEAM becomes.
I do have good memories, too. In 1998, Sonic Youth released the album A Thousand Leaves. Its only single release was the song ‘Sunday’ which, perhaps of interest to some, was directed by Harmony Korine and starred Macaulay Culkin and Rachel Miner.
Sonic Youth was my first concert. Showing my age, it was in 1998 at The Forum. Five of us made the pilgrimage to Melbourne that October day, crammed inside a hatchback that somehow made the journey (my mate did stall the car gunning his way up a steep hill in the wrong gear, which for younger us was hilarious… Older me would still find it hilarious).
Three of my fellow concert-goers were mates from school, all of whom I am happy to say remain friends to this day. The other was a friend of a friend of the time, whose parents generously offered their home as camp for the night. Last I heard he was working on boats in Geelong, but that was many moons ago. He was a good guy, and I hope he is well.
When we arrived, the driver discovered he had forgotten his ticket so took to ringing his mum, who then contacted the ticketing agency to resolve the problem. We finally found our way to the venue, with some members of the party well lubricated, which added to us missing the support act. I remember admiring the venue’s gorgeous sky-blue roof as we waited off to the side for the band to begin. They, of course, performed ‘Sunday’. I saw Sonic Youth a couple more times thereafter with one of the crew from that day, before the band parted ways.
It’s not the only song that takes me to a concert, but it’s the one that takes me away most.
On a smaller scale, when I hear Primus’ ‘Jerry Was a Race Car Driver’ I am reminded of the countless, some may say wasted but they would be wrong, hours playing Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. Mostly the Warehouse level, of course.
The Smashing Pumpkins’ ‘Today’ reminds me of buying my first electric guitar (apologies to the workers who had to listen to the riff repeatedly). Ugly Kid Joe’s ‘Cats in the Cradle’ transports me back to work experience. Nirvana’s ‘Where Did You Sleep Last Night’ reminds me of walking to the bus stop before school with an old friend. Liam Lynch’s ‘United States of Whatever’ takes me back to a catch-up with friends over dinner. Pearl Jam’s ‘Thumbing My Way’ reminds me of the time a mate who, following a Pearl Jam concert, raved about their “song” ‘Bumming My Way’. All little moments in time.
Music, we know, plays a substantial role in the life of many people. It is also a curious thing. The music we play on the way to start our working day, may be very different to the music we play on our way home at the end of the working day. There are songs that happily play in the background, and then there are songs that compel us to turn up the volume and belt out the lyrics – stares from other commuters be damned.
There is music for a run. That music we need to inspire us, to motivate us, to keep us going when our legs are burning and our lungs are screaming. There is music for a lazy day. There is music for love, and music for heartbreak. There is music for the beginning of a party, and music for when the guests are scattering into the early morning air. There is music for times with friends, and music for time alone. There is music we want to share with the world, and music we keep secret. Guilty pleasures, we call them, although that is ridiculous. We should never feel guilty about the music we enjoy.
Music, simply, is a glorious thing. And the memories it can evoke can be just as wonderful.
Anyway, back to my mixtapes. Who took my GWAR CD?
