The test of time is a daunting one. There is no formula for creating something that will last — something that holds its own as trends come and go. The things that do, the songs that do, seem to have some magic internal quality about them that you can’t quite put a finger on. I’ve been thinking about some of the music of yesterday in my life that has that undefinable and yet undeniable quality, and I made a (very short) list. It’s far from exhaustive, and these songs really have no common thread (like, at all; I could have filled this list with half of John Mayer’s discography and written paragraphs about Frank Ocean saying “I’ve got this black suit on, roaming around like I’m ready for a funeral,” but I wanted it to be as obscure as my initial thought for this post was, so I didn’t)— all I know is that they’re anomalies. Each of them still feels special years later, and in music, that’s a feat like no other. We should probably be in the habit of celebrating stuff like that. So shall we, then? Yes please. Let’s start with a healthy dose of Corinne Bailey Rae propaganda because the woman is a legend.
Trouble Sleeping by Corinne Bailey Rae (2006)
Dreamy, jazzy and smooth. The more I listen to this song the more I love it. You can hear its age, but its soul is undeniable. And instead of its throwback vibe feeling trademark-y, like the song is a product of the decade it was made in more than anything else (like so much of the music from the 2000s does), it just feels authentic. And for real, who is writing I-don’t-wanna-fall-for-you premise songs with lyrics like “this constant compromise between thinking and breathing” in 2020? It’s a serious question.
Put Your Records On by Corinne Bailey Rae (2006)
Speaking of Corrine Bailey Rae, it would quite literally be disgraceful if I didn’t include this CLASSIC from her. This song meant a whole lot to me as a kid. “Put Your Records On” is so raw and sincere and from the heart, just an altogether high quality piece of music, that it will never tire – you can’t faze out honesty. It sounds so simply but poignantly familiar and warm to me. Those lyrics in the second verse are so vivid. And don’t get me started on the video (the blue bicycle n the sun shinin through the trees as the acoustic guitar introduces you and the bass-line kicks in?? the red ribbons at the end?? something about it !! incredible. my entire childhood right there). It’s the kind of song you keep coming back to because it fills some part of you, at least for a moment. Corinne’s gentle reassurance that “you’re gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow” that lingers as the song ends makes the world seem just a little bit simpler. I believe her when she says it. It’s nostalgia in its sweetest form. I have yet to hear a single song I like more, to this day.
Hold On, We’re Going Home (feat. Majid Jordan) by Drake (2013)
Alright, alright. I can hear the virtual slander I’m getting but I just do not care. The feeling of this song (I hate to describe it like that but this song especially, out of the four, is hard for me to pinpoint what makes it so classic, and, I mean, it’s not the lyrics – it’s really more of a feeling) perfectly encapsulates the culture of the early 2010s – the start of Toronto being thought of as a music hub, Drake’s stardom trajectory, whole-ass productions of music videos that don’t fit the vibe of the song at all… You hear all of it in there. It achieves something so precise and emotional and vulnerable (sorry). The song sounds like how driving at night feels. Something about the transition from those wary first 15 seconds of drums to the melody and that humming bass-line is just untouchable. Like Rihanna once said, a classic is a classic. wait.
Holocene by Bon Iver (2011)
Listening to this song in 2020 is just as cathartic and emotional as it was 9 years ago. I said a song like “Hold On” is timeless because it’s smooth and nostalgic and (in my opinion) aesthetically defines a certain time — it’s timely; but “Holocene” is timeless because it still feels brand new. You can’t put a time stamp on a lyric as profound and gutting as “and at once I knew// I was not magnificent.” You really just have to let whatever space you’re in at that moment engulf you. You don’t get to distance yourself with the lame excuse of time. You just have to experience it. What a wonderful chance to surrender ourselves to something bigger than our, selves— imagine that.
Indulge, friends (in the nostalgia, that is). Thanks for reading.
-M
