There is a song I heard the other day, and the sound of it pierced me simultaneously with ache and joy, a visceral heart-response that at this point could only be related to Brandon. I had a flash of memory of a spring weekend when I was running down High Street in Columbus, the smell of drying dew and newborn flowers in the air. I don’t know why that song conjured this scene in my head. Perhaps Brandon had shown me a song like this that spring? Maybe I was listening to one of the songs he’d given me on my iPod and feeling especially connected to him at that moment while running? The sound of it was just like something he would have given me. Upbeat, Indy, lighthearted (but not empty) lyrics, emotionally charged more through the instruments than the voice.
The DJ announced the song is “Shine On” by the Kooks. He said it’s new, and I wonder if B’s heard it, if it’s been uploaded to his iPod for months already. I’ve grown a special affection for his type of music, and sometimes I hear a song and recognize that he would love it right away. I can see him doing his silly little dance, wagging his finger to the beat and shaking his head, a white Ray Charles showing you what it’s all ‘bout.
I like the song, though right now it makes me sad. In a few weeks I might try to download it onto my computer. Let it be just what it is—a song—and nothing more.