Like A Jungle Drum

I'm feeling very inspired by Lauren's music memories post - I love any opportunity to make a list.

I first heard this song at a Year 12 "study night" after a friend said that I could probably relate to it a lot. I remember drinking Asti Riccadonna, writing poetry, and linking hands over the craziness, fear, and stress that defined 2006. My friendships from that year remain one of the most precious things in my life, and the memories tied to these lyrics are still reassuring.

'We Own The Sky' is one of those songs that only needs to begin to change your mood, mindset, and feelings. Taken from the album Saturdays = Youth, it reassured me when I was in Europe that my relationship with Simon had wings, regardless of distance. Introducing this band to my brother was so special too, and I loved how he described the magical atmosphere it created when he put it on for dinner parties. It remains so special that music can be shared that way.

This song was apparently a limited release track for a Wonder Years compilation - one of our family CDs, played continually, 'til we knew every single word. I loved twirling to this song, on the worn floorboards of our living room, in the hot evenings of the seemingly endless summers of my childhood. Each year I look forward to our beach house, to days between the river and sea, long evenings, the unceasing music and laughter.

This song has dominated my iPod, speakers, playlists, and mix tapes for the last three years. It makes me feel like I'm living in New York or Brooklyn, and demands me to devote my life to art. The video evokes a sense of longing I can never quite pinpoint, but since I moved in with Simon, I play it more than ever. It's like every sense of being is tangled in the web of being together, and I do long to stay together in our home for always. For this reason I can't separate this song from my romantic ideals, instead I relish the creative unity we have, and the sweetness of sharing our lives. I love that we "hold ourselves together with our arms around the stereo for hours".

Hey Jude, was my maternal Grandmother's song. My mother says that Granny Juju (her wonderful name), loved it, and though we never met, I know her through it. Plus, the breakdown is one of the most wonderful ever. It also reminds me of one my oldest, best friends. And all in all - to live joyfully, and love doing so.

Simon and I have many a song, but the ones he's introduced me to live closest to me. He showed Giver to me early on, and I remember him hugging me as we listened to it with our eyes closed. In those first weeks together, it said the things we felt but weren't yet ready to say. When I listen to it I remember that while those memories were just starting to be created, we were also in the process of building a world. 

Arcade Fire were my reason for buying tickets to the 2008 Big Day Out, and this was the song I needed to be played. The moment the piano notes began, I saw a couple in the front row look at one another, while embracing simultaneously. That look added yet another layer of meaning to this magical song. Not only is it my favourite of theirs, it's one of my favourite love songs. The raw sound brings me to tears nearly every time, plus the perfection of the lyrics; I love that Win and Régine are colleagues as well as lovers. Such an amazing team.    

This song defined Year 12 as well. How do you capture the collective imagination of stressed, wannabe poets? One, start with an awe-inspiring lyric. Two, have a Shakespearean actor (your father) quote it. Three, lulling melodica. Four, an Eternal Sunshine-esque video. Five, male-female vocalists. Six,  heartbreaking, dance party lyrics. I loved this song so much I used it as an English text, and played it daily. The OC mixes have been more than influential on the music I love so well.

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Title from Emiliana Torrini