How old school hits motivated and help me regain my love of music
Hindsight is figuratively and literally 20/20. It’s an opportunity to look at things from the past with, perhaps, more wisdom, grace and understanding. Ten years ago, I pulled together a 10-track album, a collection of songs about love, sex, relationships, and heartache that reflected where I was in my life: single, young, romantic, creative, unsure, and encouraged to get my music “out there.” At the time, I thought the record was “okay” and shrugged off all compliments and praise. Looking back, I realized that it was a really good record. And, I had been making headway: playing festivals, getting good write ups, performing regularly in Toronto, getting asked by strangers to play at their weddings, being told by friends that my songs were helping them through personal trials, writing more songs, even charting in some parts of the country.
I stopped working on music years ago because I wanted to focus on the growing responsibilities of my day job as a publicist, because I thought I could easily jump back into it, because I thought I didn’t play guitar well enough, because the music industry was corrupt, because I was too old, too Black, too dark-skinned, too vulgar, too fat, too ugly because, because, because...
These days, IG “wisdom” spouts empty and dangerously judgemental statements like: “You make time for the things that you really care about.” Okaaaaaay, Marvin! (insert massive eye roll here). I cared deeply about music, but I needed to get into the right headspace. And more recently, I had made a number of life changes, which helped me feel more stable, and strong enough to combat (or, at least, calm) my inner critic, and tune into my inner champion.
Then we were plunged into the pandemic. I was stunned by how quickly the world just… flipped. Like many, I was galvanised by global protests and unrest. Bad news was so relentless that even in moments of great joy, I had my guard up for whatever crisis was lurking around the corner. I was in chronic anxiety. I felt stuck, paralysed, and useless. Then my inner champion pushed through, and provided me with moments of clarity: “You can only control what you can control” and “Your voice matters”.
These days, IG “wisdom” spouts empty and dangerously judgemental statements like: “You make time for the things that you really care about.” Okaaaaaay, Marvin!
I’m re-finding my voice, seeing if my songs, old and new, are still there inside of me. In addition to recalling my own songs, I’m also listening to and soaking up songs and artists that have made me deeply love music — not fame, artifice, image, youth — just music.
With the great reset that is 2020 underway, we need all the guidance, inspiration, and motivation that we can get. Music that we grew up to, that is part of the collective psyche, or that has guided us through difficult times in our lives can provide relief, perspective and direction. Here are a few songs that have recently re-entered the soundtrack of my life, and have pulled me out of cynicism and guided me to hope:
“Greatest Love of All”- Whitney Houston (1985)
Who recalls the tickling piano opening... and the gentle, but assertive proclamation: “I believe the children are our the future”? Yasssss, it me; I am “the children of the future”. I would sing the hell out of this as a kid, holding my hands on my heart, my eyes closed, willing in that “sense of pride”, not “walking in anyone’s shadow”, and definitely ensuring that no matter what was taken from me, “They” wouldn’t take away my dig-NIT-EEEEEE!!! I don’t think I mentally understood the nuances of this song, but I could feel it. This ballad was a certified self-love song. Recently, I was reminded of that as I randomly sang it in the shower, with the same abandon that I had as a child, hands over heart, everything! Eclipsed, perhaps, by the monster Bodyguard catalogue, the drama of her life, and the aching shock of her passing, it was a song that I hadn’t sung or thought about in years. But in that moment, under the steaming hot shower, I was two people: A young girl who was coaching herself through life with this song, and a full-fledged woman, who was the hero for the young girl to look up to. The greatest love of all was, indeed, always inside of me.
“Ex-Factor”- Lauryn Hill (1998)
First of all, how many of us learned the true meaning of the word “reciprocity” from this classic? The repetitions, the harmonies, the vocal stylings, the fire outro. She is literally crying for herself, and for all of us. And I, too, cried to this song for lovers and romances that I didn’t even have! (#uglycriesfornoreason) It was that emotional. Listening to it, a little older, a little wiser, I still feel a way. I think of that first line of the song: “It could all be so simple/but you’d rather make it hard” and it reads like a warning: Opt for simplicity. What is for me is for me. And what is not for me is not for me. In love and in life. Real and imagined.
“Get Up” - Beverley Knight (2001)
Before there was Cardi B’s “Get Up 10”, there was Beverley Knight’s sultry “Get Up”. There are so many standards from this brilliant British soultress: “Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda”, “Gold”, “Made It Back”, “Greatest Day”, but when I first heard, “Get Up”, it made me straighten up my spine and, literally, get up! I was living away from my friends and family at the time, and I felt comfort and power from this club banger with Knight’s authoritative delivery. She starts the song with: “Hear me!” You’re, like, “Me? Okaaaaaayyy...” And then she says: “Watch the way that people change/Flip the script and rearrange/Hoping they can just belong/Even when it’s wrong.” It continues in this vein, and it’s a protection anthem that, even today, makes me hold my head up just a bit higher, narrow my eyes and guard my spirit against the fakers and haters.
“9 to 5” - Dolly Parton (1980)
“9 to 5” is literally about work breaking your spirit and dreams, but, man, the way this song slaps, if you don’t listen to the words, it makes you think that you can realistically participate in the workforce from exactly 9am to 5pm. Lolz. That 9 to 5 refrain, though, it’s a bop! And Dolly adding the sound of her acrylic nails tapping on the typewriter with the ringing bell was production gold! Fast forward to today, and hearing lyrics like: “They just use your mind and you never get the credit”. Dayum, she was describing a toxic and psychologically unsafe work environment! In the great reset of 2020, work is under scrutiny, and this classic, while deceptively catchy, is also a timely wakeup call about the nature of work, and career goals. Whether you’ve been lucky enough to have kept your job or your employment has been precarious, the song begs the question: “What do you want your work life to be?”
“Superwoman” - Karyn White (1988)
A friend and I started spontaneously scream-singing this after a buzzy, tea-spilling session at a local bar. We spilled out of the establishment and became more and more excited realizing that we both knew every word and inflection of the song. This song - the verses, chorus, bridge, outro (That gem-dropping outro!!) - is a guide for how the whole world should treat Black woman. On the face of it, it is a romantic/relationship song about a dissatisfied, neglected lover. But, today, in 2020, in the midst of BLM and Black women unfailingly coming to the defense of many without any reciprocity (ah, there’s that word again), the refrain says so much:
I'm not your Superwoman
I'm not the kind of girl that you can let down
And think that everything's okay
Boy, I am only human
This girl needs more than occasional hugs
As a token of love from you to me
Yes, we are human, and we don’t need tokens; we need real commitment and real love. As Karyn commands in the last part of the song: “I'm the kind of girl that can treat you so sweet/ But you've got to realize that you've got to be sweeter to me.”
Talk about a 2020 (and beyond) reset mantra and love song for Black women.
These are just a few songs that have taken me back, while also supporting and inspiring me in the present. In this weird moment of history, where time contracts and expands, where every day we brace ourselves for the next good or bad thing, nostalgic songs can be therapeutic. They remind us of what we have survived and what we can withstand. The right songs can give us peace of mind, joy, strength, and hope that can shield us from sinking into cynicism, and instead give us permission to cling to the promise of a better day to come.