With a song in my heart
When I revisit destinations, I try to recall what music I listened to on earlier trips. Such summoning brings back memories as surely as an intrinsic fragrance.
I’m not one for Spotify playlists and the like. I can still remember the joy of a Sony Walkman, circa 1980, and the thrill of clicking in a favourite cassette and adjusting the headphones.
We are Sailing by Rod Stewart was on pause and replay as I cruised out of Sydney Harbour in the late 1980s on a South Pacific voyage with my young sons, who were still dancing in the dark with Springsteen and keeping faith with George Michael. New Caledonia? Had to be something French for a port day in Noumea. Cue Edith Piaf warbling Je ne regrette rien. Suva was more of a challenge but Kokomo by The Beach Boys did the trick. And now there’s a very flash island resort in Fiji called Kokomo, so clearly I was ahead of the times.
When I revisit destinations, I try to recall what music I listened to on earlier trips. Such summoning, usually accompanied by humming, brings back memories as surely as an intrinsic fragrance. The opposite scenario is listening at home to the CDs I’ve purchased in places that in 2020 seem unbearably distant and exotic.
In Havana in 2018, I bought a disc from a street-seller whose brother was playing guitar, seated on a stool. It’s called De Que Estamos Hablando! Which means, What are we talking about! Good question. I can understand some of the Spanish but the point is that it’s madly joyous and the chap on the cover wearing a white jacket and long-collared black shirt could be a Cuban John Travolta. He seems to be called Elio Reve and is neither the guy who sold me the CD nor his brother, even though I was told it was “their own music”. What were they talking about! Who cares. I love it.
In New Orleans, there’s a fabulous store called the Louisiana Music Factory. It’s jazzy, to say the least. But street musicians who perform in the French Quarter peddle their own discs. That’s how I discovered the wonderful group Buku Broux, playing in Jackson Square, and the West African stringed instrument known as the kora. Their music is now sold on Amazon so they’ve hit the big time.
Regrettably, my new hybrid Toyota has no CD player, which is how things are these days. What were they thinking of! Next time I’m driving a rental car in Canada, how am I supposed to put on Hymns of the 49th Parallel by k.d. lang? I require a playlist, apparently, and a Bluetooth thingummy. Makes me want to gnash my teeth. Might be time to dig out the antique Sony Walkman. I have 16 Bollywood dance music cassettes in reasonable condition and they are very transporting.
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