The CD's that Change Things (1):

I was walking home from the office today (it's about 2 miles, which makes a nice bit of exercise after a long day of reading) and a song came on the iPod that got me thinking. There are certain songs, and for those of us born before, say, 1990, albums that are so clearly attached to a time and a place. Like the smell of chocolate chip cookies or the ocean, they can bring back memories that are so vivid - sometimes painful, sometimes happy, but always worth having. I thought I might write a few entries about some of those albums from my life and see what memories you, my reader(s), have. Anyway, I'll start with the song I heard today and the album it came from.

(What's the Story) Morning Glory - Oasis (1995).

The song I heard today that prompted this post was "Some Might Say", and it had me thinking back to my first year in Japan. I had first heard of Oasis through a review of the album Definitely Maybe that was on "All Things Considered" on NPR. There was something about Liam and Noel and their tendency to get into fisticuffs on stage that just said, "You have to get into this group" to me. That first CD was fantastic, Morning Glory was truly a CD of its time and place.

I bought this CD in the fall of my first year in Japan for the first time, and while the first set of memories that came back as I listened to "Some Might Say" were of my then girlfriend's apartment and the "Oh god, you're listening to that CD again...?" looks she used to give me whenever I put Morning Glory on, what I really associate that CD with is Karaoke in Gifu.

My gaijin friends and I used to go to this tiny little karaoke bar on the weekends that had probably 8 seats along the counter and room for 4 or 5 more people at one table. I can't for the life of me remember the name of the place, but I am sure I averaged one night per week there over the course of 3 and a half years. They charged 500 yen ($5, or so) cover and 500 yen per drink, and you could sing all you wanted. For some reason this little joint ended up attracting this eclectic crowd of English teachers, office workers, college kids, and borderline yakuza types. I practiced my (very poor at that point) Japanese on virtually any young lady who was unlucky enough to sit next to me, and probably watched Titanic (without sound because people were singing) 50 times.

Somehow, though, a night out there was never complete without somebody breaking into "Don't Look Back in Anger" (Track 4 on the CD). Sometimes it was me, sometimes it was Charlie (our stereotypically depressed Brit), sometimes someone else. I can't really describe it in a way that does it justice, but that was simply the perfect song for 1996/1997 in Gifu, Japan.

Anyway, listening to it again today it's remarkable how well that CD stands up over time. "Wonderwall" is still a pretty perfect pop song, even if I have no idea what it's about; "Champagne Supernova" is just as over the top and self-righteous as it sounded 12 years ago; and "She's Electric" still brings a sly smile to my face (especially the "she's got one in the oven/but it's nothin' to do with me" line).

I'll leave you with a shot of the normal goings on from that karaoke bar in Gifu. This would have been Halloween, 1997. Brad, Me, Keiko, Shannon, and Naoko (L to R), with me and Shannon doing our best Puffy (or, Puffy AmiYumi for you Americans). Good times.