Memories and Music

I met the song of the year this spring. My friend was in town and wanted to go for a drink. The apple blossoms in the city painted the world pink, and I didn't know then, those rosy petals would sing me into another heartbreak.

The first time I had met him, my song, my lesson and the ache in my soul was the day before my 30th birthday party. The same friend had traveled far to join and we fought our way through the icy snow of the night, dancing with him leading us through all the clubs, knowing everyone there, knowing every drink because he had made them all. We stopped at a football pub because they played Abba, we never skip dancing to Abba.

I should have known as I watched him making out with my friend, that it wouldn't turn out great between us. I should have known when he spoke so highly of his ex, I wasn't the only woman in his life. Or, I sort of always knew I suppose, but he was the only man in my life, and you can ignore a lot as you are as ice cold, dark and lonely as the polar winter it was that night.

I wasn't jealous before we met

Now every woman I see is a potential threat

And I'm possessive, it isn't nice

You've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice

When he turned up that spring day though, the weather was as great as it would get this far north. He hugged me as an old friend and that day turning into night we danced again, smoking pot in his apartment and listening to song from 2012. I was again this awkward teenager, not confident enough to take space in this world. Not remarkable enough to be the one.

My friend kept going on about this amazing festival she had been to, defining the coming music scene. It was Lana Del Rey, not really knowing how to sing live just jet. Singing: I heard that you like the bad girls. Honey, is that true? It was Florence and the Machines bewitching us high on the Belgium weed. Singing: And oh, poor Atlas. The world's a beast of a burden. You've been holding on a long time

And all this longing Rockwerchter Lineup from 2012 was defining for my taste in music, having been one of the fondest memories travelling with friends. Even now in 2024, these are the words, the beats and voices whispering through my headphones.

"But you wasn't even there," my friend said, having completely forgotten about me on that trip. Invisible for her memories. It always hurts when this happens, although it happens quite often. I am always on the cusp of their tongues, in the corner of their eyes. I am often a mere spectator of my own life, always the writer, never the story.

We were watching the live performance of Another Love by Tom Odell at Pukkelpop back in 2023, and although a sad song, I felt content sitting high on this man's couch as he made me an after-clubbing meal.

We parted as friends that night and I didn't hear from him until months later. But why did I tell my mom about you?

I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care

But it's so cold and I don't know where

On the radio I had blaring the songs of Taxi by Onsloow, Late to the Party by Anna Lille and OMG by Sukie Waterhouse every day. All through summer, now fall was creeping in. I was again going to freeze to ice for the winter. Because every day was the same. Nothing was happening, nothing was moving forward. I was drowning in nothingness.

I'm late to the party

And nobody's waiting there for me

I was working in my shop as I saw someone linger outside the window looking in. It was him. I could feel him before I saw him. He came in and gave me a hug in front of everyone. Good to see you, he said and hugged me like he meant every word.

Wanna go for a beer? he asked and I was floored, nothing like this ever happens to me. What happened that moment he decided to walk into my shop, how did I look in his eyes that day? What music was playing in the shopping mall right then?

It's just as friends, I said when I told my friend. It's just as friends, I told myself as I put makeup on listening to Thrown Down by Fleetwood Mac, like an omen I had yet to decode.

Thrown down, like a barricade

Maybe now he could prove to her

That he could be good for her

And they should be together

Meeting up, we wear both wore big headphones. Talking as we were drinking he would mention he makes music and I started to wonder what that sounded like. He wondered what my writing looked like. Him unable to show because of stage fright, me doing most of my writing in a foreign language, this realm of self remains hidden.

It's just as friends, I tell myself as he orders another beer, his knee touching mine. It's just as friends I say as he kisses me just as I'm stepping on the bus home. It's just as friends? I ask as I play Slow Burn by Infinity Song as the sad song you put on replay. 

I told him I was going to the mountains to get a grip on what was happening. Was it something more than friends?

I decided to not turn into ice for the winter, exposing myself to the frosty wind, believing that I would have someone to stay warm next to. Thrown down like a barricade as Stevie Nicks would say.

Sitting on the mountain that weekend I ran away from him, I found this song in the archives. A song forgotten, but was now filled of him.

Had it all planned out before you met me

I had a plan, you ruined it completely

I was gonna die young

Now I gotta wait for you, honey

I once again found myself on his couch listening to music, wine drunk with him on top of me as I took my clothes off. Why can't I remember the music from the good times? Why does all music I hear when happy first make sense when I'm not? I really thought it was a love song, Stevie: She watched it all come into play. He held her hands. She listened to what he had to say.

In his bed I asked for a shirt to wrap myself in, not ready yet to wrap myself in him. It was a Manchester Orchestra band t-shirt and he mentioned it was his favorite band. I mentioned I liked them as well, and he said I was perfect. Ever since my head has been filled with their songs.

When I listened closely to their album he loved, I started to feel it. He was drifting away. Then the texts, his long writings like short stories, stopped coming in. We used to talk about the northern light, I'm not alone but it sure feels like someone left.

I knew well were this was headed. I had used to be the ghost only haunting in the dead of the night after there was no more champagne, sitting alone in the back of a cafe. But now my mind was up all night, blood on the bed head and volumes you left unsaid

Crawling against your skin

Clutching my neck said "it's all supposed to end like this"

I tried to wish him a merry Christmas, but got only vague replies. I tried to dream about him instead, but woke up brokenhearted when he was gone when I opened my eyes. It was too late though, I wanted his love layed on me, our story already played for generations on The Sims.

Right by the entrance, you broke

Finally, reality's taking its hold

You're not who you were, but you can't let it go

You're not where you're from, but you're always alone

Now dressed in my glitter dress, glittering eye-shadow and hair, my heart cries, still waiting for a Happy New Year coming through the ether. He has until midnight before I give it up and start again.

Trying to remind myself about the word Stevie Nicks prophesied when she wrote that song about Lindsey: You say you’re sorry. Now you should walk away. But it’s so overwhelming. You have nothing left to say. You can sit outside his door and wait. Well, you can dedicate your pain to him.

I have stopped telling my friends about it and dances through the night, dancing much like we did the first time we met, him with someone else. Me, going back like I always do, back to that summer in 2012 when I was 19 and still believed the arms of the ocean would carrying me, as Florence and the Machine cried out on stage.

I'll go back to the basics, the ones I return to every year. Abba will never fail any occasion. Even this one, a party when the mood is more gloom than glam.

No more champagne

And the fireworks are through

Here we are, me and you

Feeling lost and feeling blue

It's the end of the party

So let us raise the glass and let the music flow through us, another year, other songs and those that will take us back. Those magical minutes of music, now with memories, smells and people lingering. Even long after their faces have faded, the music will remain, taking us back.