Jezebel writer Hortense posted a piece today about relationship soundtracks. I know you know that couple who carefully constructs their relationship to a painstakingly self-conscious playlist of the right lyrics and the right indie bands. You at least know of a couple who would do that.
The most definitive song of my last relationship is hands down "That Don't Impress Me Much" by Shania Twain. This is because for two bizarre weeks in 2006, that song haunted us everywhere. Like within 14 days, at bodegas, taxis and laundromats, he-who-shall-not-be-named and I heard the song at least 10 times. Inexplicable. It wasn't even a good song in 1995 and yet 11 years later it was all over Manhattan radio. That was obviously a major moment, and so I resultantly sneak a laugh whenever I come across the song in a karaoke book. I usually end up singing it too. Isn't that a better memory than a contrived mix-tape?
The obvious success of that relationship might betray what I am about to say but whatever. Spontaneity and randomness trump. Never could I sift through my iPod to find the "perfect" song that would be able to "perfectly" (and oh so hiply/awkwardly) say what I wanted to communicate. I guess this explains my instinctual repulsion by Scar-Jo/Pete Yorn collabo CD's. You know who is going to be listening to that sh*t and with what intentions. The problem is, if you don't subscribe to the hipster canon of musical history, you and your partner probably have uniquely nuanced musical tastes. Instead of forcing one to the other side or vice versa, you have to embrace the funny, the unavoidable and the present. Otherwise it's all a sham.
Feel free to be creepy and share a laugh with my ex and I. At least do it for the leopard luggage and sassy talk:
