Roll Away Your Stone: If music be the food of love ..

Ranking really high on my list of things I love to do includes seeing live music. I jump at any opportunity to be amidst kindred spirits and yet lost in my own world of lyrics, which speak to me in ways art does for some people or poetry does for others. Last night was one of those nights; I went downtown to see Joshua Radin, one of my favorite artists. Introduced to me by someone who is no longer in my life, he holds a special place in my heart for a number of reasons. 1. The aforementioned introduction. 2. His album, played on repeat, pulled me through a pretty dark time in my life; the hopefulness in its lyrics and promises of a Brand New Day kept me going. 3. The second time I saw him live represents a new chapter of my life, the one filled with the IA, new girl friends, and a lighter, happier version of myself. (And with a new album, he seemed more joyful, too.) Klaudia went with me to his concert in 2009, not long after I moved back to Michigan, and in her agreement to attend this concert with a virtual stranger (I found myself with an extra ticket), I made my first real friend in this new chapter. Three years later, we've attended a number of concerts together, sometimes with others, sometimes just us, and still that Joshua Radin concert holds a special place in my heart. We went together last night and I jokingly referred to it as our anniversary date; all jokes aside, I am so grateful for the people in my life who feel as passionately about music as I do and are willing to stand by my side as I lose myself in the world of those swirling lyrics and the foot tapping becomes full-on dancing. Every friend somehow becomes a concert buddy, most willingly (Amanda might never forgive me for the Circus tour; it was a tough time in my life, what can I say? I have good friends.)

I grew up in a house filled with music, and I owe that to my hippie parents, who raised us on the beloved gravel of Dylan, the brillance of King, Mitchell, and Collins, and the unappreciated-by-us Cohen. We were sang to before bed, sometimes to wake us up, always on car rides, and everywhere in between. Unapologetically, I'll admit my first concert was probably Sharon, Lois, and Braham. To say I was obsessed is a bit of an understatement; however, The Elephant Show live was quickly followed by the Beach Boys, Amy Grant (as close as I got really to being a child of the 80s), Bob Dylan, and Paul Simon. To this day, there is nothing better than sitting out on the hill at Pine Knob (it will always be PK to me) and though my tastes have become slightly more mainstream and pop-y than my dad really would like to admit (I could barely tell him about that Katy Perry concert), those early ones are my roots. The first CD I remember having at our house was August and Everything After .. someday, Dad, I will give it back to you but for now, it's one that still get plenty of play. He heard Adam Duritz, Sarah McLachlan, Tracy Chapman, and Barenaked Ladies before me; thank god I have a cool dad who shared with his relatively uncool daughter. These are the CDs, among others, which are like that old, comfortable sweatshirt, the songs I play again and again, no matter the time, place, or mood. Afterglow got me through homesick nights in Kenya, Blood on the Tracks is the perfect cleaning the house soundtrack, Tapestry uplifts me every time, lying on a bunk in Nicaragua Simpler Times eased my racing mind, and a girl can't have enough Alanis or Mumford & Sons for the occasional "F- it" drive home from work with the windows down.

For those of us who love music, we know there are albums which speak to us about whatever it is happening in our lives at the moment. Songs transport me to a different time, sometimes with happy memories attached, other times more bittersweet remembrances. I'm transported to high school memories, college dance parties and late night study sessions, road trips, at least a hundred concerts, and ordinary days in the more recent history with the opening chords of a song or snatch of lyrics. My dear friend Dan, on a really long bus trip with teenagers, asked me amidst the madness what ten songs I'd put on an album to encompass my favorites. It's a question I mull over from time to time, and each time I reflect on it, some remain the same, but there are always songs which embody my heart at that moment. When Dan asked me that question a lifetime ago, I was in love with life. I'm sure the songs I picked at that moment, which he eventually bullied out of me in his endearing Dan way, represented the excitement of post-college, independent, and in-love Sarah. Some of those songs are still on The CD. There are songs which will never change as my favorites, songs which I will never tire of hearing, those which no matter what is happening in my life, they are my musical sweatshirt. Some songs land on the list briefly, and are re-played again and again for a short time, but then rarely heard again; others are more enduring and ......

Now you see my problem with The CD. I could never just pick ten. So instead I listen to live music every chance I get and in between settle for familiar voices and lyrics which capture my thoughts and feelings more beautifully than I can. Last night, Joshua Radin prefaced his song "The Ones with the Light" by telling the crowd he wrote it for us, his fans; the chorus goes, "We will never change / the way we are here / I like that we are kind of strange." As we all sang together, I realized I was in really good company at that moment. And I am anytime I hit play on that old comfortable sweatshirt of The CD, whatever it plays at that moment.