SO U2 is coming to the Philippines on Dec. 11, 2019.
I’m giddy as a schoolboy on his first date and I certainly hope I can be one of the lucky ones to purchase tickets for said event. If not, there will be much wailing and gnashing of teeth when I am not allowed to sit at the table and sup with Lord Bono. It seems overly dramatic, pardon me; U2 just means that much.
I did an article already about how certain songs can be therapeutic for us. When we can’t express the “groanings too deep for words,” listening to a certain song often has an “aha!” or “that’s it!” feeling for us. We don’t really have to say anything, we just get it. And U2 was one of those bands that fit the category for me; I will always have a special place in my heart for “Walk On” because of how it speaks and continues to speak to me at certain parts of my life.
And we all have those “signature songs” in our lives. I have one for my first crush in high school (don’t pretend you don’t!), first day in college and even for graduation (Green Day and “Good Riddance,” of course). These are all touchstones and events that we will never be able to fully articulate were it not for a song that perfectly encapsulates what we feel. That’s the power of music, I guess. And if our song choices reflect anything, it’s usually how our state of minds have managed to change from year to year (for better or for worse). They act as a sonic snapshot of where we were at that time in our lives and where we are now. This is why I will always have thrash metal and WWE entrance songs in my gym playlist. You never really stop being an angry kid; you just learn to channel it in more productive ways.
I’ve also had special songs for the times in my life where I’ve lost something. Dwelling on these melancholic moments for long periods of time is definitely not healthy, but there are also certain days when you just need to look back on these losses to see how far you’ve come and how far you’re going. Again, the power of a song to nail your feelings in a three- or four-minute long single cannot be understated. That’s the beauty and the mystique of a good song.
My song choices will always seem dubious to most people, but it’s the memories attached to each song that make them so special to me. They serve as guideposts and memorials of an awkward kid who grew up to be an even more awkward adult with male pattern baldness.
In relation to that, I won’t be able to listen to South Border’s “Rainbow” for a long time without getting all choked up. Sorry, it’s personal.