I have always been amazed by the power of music.
If you are talented enough, writing or singing music has the power to make you millions of dollars.
A song with a great beat has the power to put your body in motion through dance.
A song’s lyrics have the power to speak to anyone, based on how they’re interpreted by the listener.
But, perhaps music’s greatest power lies in its ability to evoke our emotions; to strike a chord in our hearts and take us to places we had long forgotten (or, in some cases, places we have done our best to forget).
Simply hearing a song’s familiar melody can flood our minds with memories, and transport us back to a time of long ago which, somehow, seems like yesterday.
For me, that song is Cocaine Cowgirl by Nova Scotia-based band Matt Mays & El Torpedo.
It was 2005; in the age before smart phones and Spotify, 17-year-old me relied heavily on local radio to keep up with the newest and most popular tracks. Every Sunday, I tuned in to the Rock 106 Top 30 Countdown, and, thanks to the CRTC’s Canadian Content (CanCon) requirements for radio, I was exposed to many wonderful Canadian bands and artists. (Although, I could have kicked CanCon and its Bryan Adams-Great Big Sea-Celine Dion-loving ass in the 90s. Let’s face it: the musical landscape in the Great White North was limited back then, and there was only so much I could take).
But, 10 years on, times were brighter, and Canadian music was starting to leave its mark on the world stage (in a non-Bryan Adams-Great Big Sea-Celine Dion sort of way).
Montreal-based band Arcade Fire had just released its critically acclaimed debut album Funeral the previous year; Ontario’s Three Days Grace, Finger Eleven and Sam Roberts were climbing the rock charts, and, although it pains me to admit it, Nickelback was making headway, too.
All of this paved the way for one dreary Sunday afternoon in my bedroom, when I first heard the song that would stay with me forever. Entering the charts at number 27 on the countdown, I fell in love with it immediately. The lonely, opening guitar notes ripped through the speakers and hit me like a shot, only to build to a full sound unlike anything I had ever heard. The lyrics were equally entrancing:
“Cocaine Cowgirl/she’s out catching eyes/on the other end/of the desert sky/taking you down to the dark side of town/a dark side of town/cocaine cowgirl nobody knows…”
I immediately introduced the song to my closest friends, and it instantly became the soundtrack to everything we did that summer: playing in the background at parties on the prairie; on the radio in a friend’s truck while we picked up milkshakes from the local drive-through; through the speakers of a bedroom stereo while my friends and I laughed and shared our secrets.
At that time, I was a moody teenager who thought my life was hell and everything sucked. Looking back now, those were actually some of the best times in my life. I miss them deeply today, and often wish I could go back to relive them, just once.
Real time travel is, of course, impossible, but every time I hear that song now, I come as close as a person can. As soon as those crisp, clear guitar notes hit my ears, nostalgia floods my mind and body. For the three minutes and 28 seconds, I go back to being 17 again, reliving those memories. But now, I appreciate them. I soak them in.
When the song ends and I’m pulled back to reality, I find myself shedding a tear for what was, and what will never be again.
That’s the true power of music. It can lift you up, while simultaneously bringing you to your knees, giving your deepest emotions nowhere to hide.
What a heartbreakingly beautiful thing.
What song brings back memories every time you hear it? Comment below!