When I was 22, I watched my then-girlfriend get a tattoo. She lay on her side, clutching and releasing my hand in a rhythm steady as a heartbeat, wincing and fighting the tears as she tried to stay still and endure the pain that comes when a massive treble clef is inked across the ribcage. The tattoo itself was nothing particularly memorable, but the quote that accompanied it stuck with me: “When words fail, music speaks.”
I thought of this quote today, when I got online and saw that My Chemical Romance had disbanded after 12 years. For so many, their music was lifesaving, transformative, and inspirational, the soundtrack to surviving adolescence and the minefield beyond. I’ll be honest, they weren’t that band for me (that would be System of a Down, but that’s a story for another day), but I got into Danger Days: The Life and Times of the Fabulous Killjoys, I went to see them when they came to my state, and I enjoyed every minute of it.
I’m the first to admit my life has been a little weird. Okay, a lot weird. The waves ebb and flow, the times change, and even the most steadfast truths erode. However, if there’s been one constant over the years, it’s music. Certain songs become synonymous with moments frozen in memory, taking on meaning I never could have anticipated on first listen. MCR’s “The Kids From Yesterday” is one of those songs.
I never expected to find solace in that song, ever. To me, Danger Days was a fun record, a concept album that didn’t suck (!) with some rollicking tracks and a handful of more poignant moments, nothing more. There was none of the deep emotional resonance I feel with some other music, and that was fine. Then, in February 2012, I learned my father was dying. There are no words to describe what it felt like to watch him deteriorate, so I’m not going to try. I could call it ‘devastating,’ ‘heartbreaking,’ and ‘agonizing,’ but those words don’t cover it.
During his illness I split my time between my hometown and my current city of residence, largely putting my life in the city on hold so that I could be where it mattered most, doing whatever I could to help in an impossible situation. I can’t count the number of times I drove down the interstate, sobbing and trying to stay in my lane as I played “The Kids From Yesterday” on repeat. I don’t know what it is about that song that enabled me to cry, but I’m grateful, so very grateful to have had that emotional outlet. That song and a few others became my anchors, and I clung fiercely to the solace they offered. When a friend’s mother passed away last November, almost six months after my father died, I sent her a mix CD of the songs I listened to most during his illness and afterwards, a compilation of music that helped me begin to heal. I hope she was able to take some comfort from it.
I could go on for quite some time about the music that’s changed my life. What songs have impacted you?
Meredith Foster 