I smell what you're saying
Synesthesia is the concept of getting your sensory systems crossed. Seeing music, tasting color, associating emotions and personalities to letters, number and words are all examples. It’s the kind of thing that sounds like you’d have to be under the influence of some hallucinogen to experience. There are a surprising number of people in this world who are gifted (or cursed) with one or more of these conditions. There is some kind of science behind it, and if you checked the wiki article on synethesia I’m sure you could find some interesting tidbits.
I came across a girl on a message board I frequent who could look at a word and see a colorful abstract representation of that word in her head. Users on the board requested that she draw their usernames, dirty words, etc. I thought it would be a sweet idea to get her to draw my name or initials, or something, and I could get a tattoo done of it, as some of her drawings were absolutely beautiful in an abstract way.
I’ve been looking for a long time for a tattoo that’s isn’t some cliché Japanese kanji that I’m told means “Doves and Peace” but actually translates “Pieces of Doves: Donkey, Donkey, Donkey.” What better back story for a tattoo than “oh, that’s what someone with Synesthesia sees when they look at my name.” Unfortunately, the thread I read turned out to be pretty old, and she’d become pretty bitter towards nerds from the internet asking her to draw shit, so she was pretty cold towards me when I contacted her. I don’t blame her, although, I was pretty freaking polite and understanding when I talked to her. Lousy synesthesiacs.
The idea of synesthesia got me thinking about how I react to music. I know this happens to others as well, as I’ve talked to a few people about it. For many people, smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. This is still true for me, but a very, very close second is music. Not so much hearing as a whole, just music. It seems as though I can remember the first time I heard every song I know. I also associate music with stages of my life. For example, Alanis Morrisette conjures up memories of playing with this one kid on my block. We’d take turns listening to the Jagged Little Pill album on my tape player. No Doubt brings me back to driving to an audio rental company to pick up a truck full of sound gear for a huge concert at my high school. Atmosphere (early Atmosphere) makes me think of sitting in the green room at my high school theatre, playing solitaire. Beck: Guero makes me think of hanging out at Anne and Megan’s apartment at the end of freshman year. Green Day sums up far too much of high school. Jimmy Eat World brings back thoughts of driving home from some concert in the rain in the back of “Betsy,” my friend’s ill fated conversion van with 8 other people. Pink Floyd makes me hallucinate. Phish reminds me of summer camp, as it should. Beastie Boys: Intergalactic reminds me of driving down the camp road on the way to a night off in Virginia or Duluth. Hours of music reminds me of Late Night Kirby, as I’ve been exposed to so much new music there, it’s impossible to quantify. The Combustible Neon Sox remind me of the most fantastic musicians I’ve ever seen. Seriously.
I should organize my music autobiographically, a la High Fidelity. I feel more and more like Rob Gordon (John Cusack) every day.
I’ve got hours of music that are forever associated with girlfriends, which is bittersweet at best. It’s great because it reminds me of them, but terrible because it reminds me of them. There’s a lot of music that I’ve only been able to listen to recently. Tell me I’m not the only one who experiences this.
Music that doesn’t remind me of specific events or eras reminds me of the people who introduced me to that music. To those people who force their music on me, thank you. To those people who are willing to sit still and tolerate some weird new band I’ve discovered, thank you. To those of you who stay up till the sun starts thinking about rising, listening to my ramblings on the airwaves, thank you so much. Chances are that if you’re reading this, you’re one of those people. The music you’ve given me has helped define me.
Keep on listening, I’ve got more for you, and I want more from you.
P.S. Name a band and I’ll tell you what images they conjure up.
I came across a girl on a message board I frequent who could look at a word and see a colorful abstract representation of that word in her head. Users on the board requested that she draw their usernames, dirty words, etc. I thought it would be a sweet idea to get her to draw my name or initials, or something, and I could get a tattoo done of it, as some of her drawings were absolutely beautiful in an abstract way.
I’ve been looking for a long time for a tattoo that’s isn’t some cliché Japanese kanji that I’m told means “Doves and Peace” but actually translates “Pieces of Doves: Donkey, Donkey, Donkey.” What better back story for a tattoo than “oh, that’s what someone with Synesthesia sees when they look at my name.” Unfortunately, the thread I read turned out to be pretty old, and she’d become pretty bitter towards nerds from the internet asking her to draw shit, so she was pretty cold towards me when I contacted her. I don’t blame her, although, I was pretty freaking polite and understanding when I talked to her. Lousy synesthesiacs.
The idea of synesthesia got me thinking about how I react to music. I know this happens to others as well, as I’ve talked to a few people about it. For many people, smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. This is still true for me, but a very, very close second is music. Not so much hearing as a whole, just music. It seems as though I can remember the first time I heard every song I know. I also associate music with stages of my life. For example, Alanis Morrisette conjures up memories of playing with this one kid on my block. We’d take turns listening to the Jagged Little Pill album on my tape player. No Doubt brings me back to driving to an audio rental company to pick up a truck full of sound gear for a huge concert at my high school. Atmosphere (early Atmosphere) makes me think of sitting in the green room at my high school theatre, playing solitaire. Beck: Guero makes me think of hanging out at Anne and Megan’s apartment at the end of freshman year. Green Day sums up far too much of high school. Jimmy Eat World brings back thoughts of driving home from some concert in the rain in the back of “Betsy,” my friend’s ill fated conversion van with 8 other people. Pink Floyd makes me hallucinate. Phish reminds me of summer camp, as it should. Beastie Boys: Intergalactic reminds me of driving down the camp road on the way to a night off in Virginia or Duluth. Hours of music reminds me of Late Night Kirby, as I’ve been exposed to so much new music there, it’s impossible to quantify. The Combustible Neon Sox remind me of the most fantastic musicians I’ve ever seen. Seriously.
I should organize my music autobiographically, a la High Fidelity. I feel more and more like Rob Gordon (John Cusack) every day.
I’ve got hours of music that are forever associated with girlfriends, which is bittersweet at best. It’s great because it reminds me of them, but terrible because it reminds me of them. There’s a lot of music that I’ve only been able to listen to recently. Tell me I’m not the only one who experiences this.
Music that doesn’t remind me of specific events or eras reminds me of the people who introduced me to that music. To those people who force their music on me, thank you. To those people who are willing to sit still and tolerate some weird new band I’ve discovered, thank you. To those of you who stay up till the sun starts thinking about rising, listening to my ramblings on the airwaves, thank you so much. Chances are that if you’re reading this, you’re one of those people. The music you’ve given me has helped define me.
Keep on listening, I’ve got more for you, and I want more from you.
P.S. Name a band and I’ll tell you what images they conjure up.
5 comments:
a) you are not the only one who associates music and memories. for real, do you think i can listen to crew jones and not be immediately transported to the bar in luce, smoking a cigarette under the bright red neon sign, screaming "BANJONES!" with samantha scott? and every time i listen to low, i am automatically sitting on the floor of the UMD rafters, hugging my knees, the neon lights coming at me with ferocity, the screeching sound of sparhawk's guitar enveloping me, drowning out all other distractions.
i feel ya.
b) you should link the thread. those photos were absolutely breathtaking.
c) what does queen conjure up? how about the pussycat dolls?
do you want to know what i think about when i hear the song "don't cha?" ha.
how about radiohead?
Nas, flamming lips, and coldplay?
Hey, whose blog is this? This is Max, the Combustible Neon Sox drummer however many years ago.
I was taking a trip down memory lane and this showed up. Three years late, sure, but whatever.
Well, almost five years later Max, here's your answer.
I was just taking another trip down memory lane myself, reading my old blog and listening to my old playlists.
This is/was Clay's blog. Hi Max. You're a famous writer now, right? Among other things?
Please respond within 5 years. Thanks.
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