A song can mean anything. Once it exits an artist’s imagination, it mutates, coalesces with the memories and experiences of everyone it encounters. It gloms onto our life’s signature moments, allowing them, good or bad, to be conjured with the drop of a turntable needle. It’s a blessing, it’s a curse.
If I want to smile, I listen to “Where Is My Mind”. If I want to hurt myself, I listen to Azure Ray’s “Sleep”. These are simple truths I’ve come to accept. My mother avoids Led Zeppelin like the plague. Why? “Bad things happen when I listen to Led Zeppelin.” Hey, Mom, I get it.
#RealLife is a new, monthly feature where Consequence of Sound staffers join forces with a diverse cadre of writers to share personal stories inspired by one legendary album. Some may be inexorably linked to the album itself, others may just share its themes, tone, and atmosphere. Regardless, they’re all real.
This month, we revisit The Smiths’ self-titled debut, whose melancholy torch songs have crept into the psyches of angsty teens (and adults) the world over since they were released 30 years ago today.