What I say I think: Goosebumps

I grew up playing classical violin, and not listening to music. I had to play it all the time, so what did I care? Vivaldi, Lully, and Bach weren't heroes to me; I knew that Lully had died after hitting himself in the foot with a baton while conducting (badass!), but their music flowed through me without sinking in. I understood the musical tricks I had to use to make it emotive: dynamics, vibrato, tempo, etc., but they were just that to me, tricks. There was nothing in classical music to grab me by the throat and shake me. There was nothing for my throat to do at all; if I tried to talk while practising, my arms would simply shut down. But I could read, I discovered, and so kept myself occupied during my (interminably long) half-hour practise sessions by reading whatever was close at hand.

So lyrics were a shock to me. One that I couldn't even understand at first; I could listen to the same CD a hundred times and know every note of every melody but not a single word. My first CD was Sum 41's All Killer No Filler and that was in seventh grade. I burnt a copy from Chris Kyle, who was already totally into music. When my mom found it I disowned it immediately. I'd found it on the street, or something. No one I know would listen to music with such profanity (okay, maybe I heard a few of the words). But I listened to it every night, lying in bed in the dark, trying now to pick out the words and realizing how they complemented the song, and how these could build into moments of absolute magic. I listened to any other CDs I could find lying around: Amanda Marshall's self titled, Matchbox 20's Yourself Or Someone Like You, Pearl Jam's Vs. And I laughed. Or cried. Got angry. Got anxious. But mostly, I got goosebumps.

It wasn't long before I realized that this wasn't a random occurrence. This was a repeatable, scientific process that, after a sufficient refractory period, was as regular as clockwork. So I kept a little unmarked list of them on my Facebook page's "About Me" section. Recently I found them and remembered what they were. So, as I'd like to expand my study, please listen to these and take note of your physiological reaction at the track times indicated. LISTEN TO THIS PLAYLIST, it has 'em all in order. If the first few don't work for ya, turn it up, and maybe open a window?

1. Radiohead - 2+2=5 (1:55)

The guitar plugging in at the start of the track probably also counts, but you've really got to crank it in the headphones.

2. Les Cowboys Fringants - Ruelle Laurier (2:27)

Dude's going to kill his father in an alley, maybe with a hockey skate? Bright red blood on dirty grey snow.

3. Archers of Loaf - You and Me (0:59)

Listen to the rhythm guitar fade in and feel your heart rise with it until it's in your mouth and you need to scream it out.

4. Sebastien Grainger - American Names (1:51)

Those immigrants really, really want a better life for their children. Trite maybe, but that drumbeat ain't trite! (Incidentally, this is an effective way to defend any gangsta rap song you like)

5. The Mountain Goats - No Children (2:00)

Something about those two other John Darnielles that drop in for that tag at the end really puts a bow on that whole painfully honest, honestly painful thing he does so well.

6. Wilco - Say You Miss Me (2:48)

This one's like getting hit in the gut with a sack of oranges, you're winded and doubled over and where did that come from and why isn't there a mark?

7. The Format - On Your Porch (2:18)

For someone who's just moved across the country and is missing his family and eating lunch alone on the hill by the McGill Education building, well, that lyric might make the person in that hypothetical situation bawl real tears.