Over the summer I often listened to Jian Ghomeshi on CBC Radio One–Sounds Like Canada (in the summer). Every day he had a “song of the day” and they were usually great songs, but not mainstream and often from the 80s–which I believe would have been the time of his youth. I was 8 when the 80s came to a close. The 90s (and more of the later 90s) were my young home. I am talking about music here, music. This ghost that sticks to underneath our tongue, writing lyrics and love-me-nots.
Yesterday, I was reading a review of Kimmy Beach’s Fake Paul. I think it was that one, or maybe it was the other one. But it was talking about the insanity of being a fan, of being so drawn to the ghost that all you can do is grab the musician for salvation. It made me think about the music I love.
Well I don’t know much from the 80s, except maybe some Brian Adams and Ray Parker Jr.’s “Ghostbusters”, but I do know what affected me in the 90s. Matthew Good Band was there, just when I needed them. As if they brought a bandage to some invisible wound I had been licking for too long. I remember longing for music that could save my soul and when I found MGB it was surreal. I would sit, scouring the lyrics, and listen–dreaming.
In my opinion, to some degree, after the break of the Matthew Good Band and the subsequent solo career, Matt Good has gotten worse–though that may not be true (for me or anyone, possibly just different). But, I love him. I still buy all his CDs, go to all of his shows and with his avid internet persona, check his website regularly, and am friends through the net with people who know him personally. And because Brenda got me thinking about this, I am connected to him/music through the net, which–in turn–connects me to the past constantly.
I couldn’t help thinking all summer, if I were Jian, I would play MGB. The music of my youth still permeates to my core and I can go back to the place where I enjoyed licking my wounds, sleeping with those ghosts.