Music to fuel me; music to heal me… March 1, 2007

The summer flew by in a blur; confusion, miscommunication, denial, and heartache fueling those days. I felt happy one minute, lost the next. In a matter of months, our friendship reached a precipice of no return; it was jump or retreat. We jumped.

I could not believe it was true. Had we really started dating, even after months of denying that it would ever happen? In order to hold myself back from the infatuation that I feared was becoming apparent, I immersed myself in school, working out, and spending time with my new suitemates.

All things considered, that was an incredibly beneficial move on my part. One day, while cleaning, I happened to hear my favorite song at the time, “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree,” coming from my suitemate Yannah’s room. Upon questioning, I learned that the crooner of said song was KT Tunstall, and quickly obtained her CD. I soon lost interest in the single, but continued to enjoy the album, Eye to the Telescope.

Meanwhile, my relationship with my enigmatic new boyfriend grew stronger. We spent perhaps too much time together, reveling in our newfound love. Sitting in the car one day, waiting for a particularly horrendous red light to allow our passage (and listening to Eye to the Telescope for perhaps the fourth time that week), my sweet music aficionado informed me that if I was so keen on KT’s style of music, perhaps I would be interested in Sarah Harmer. Intrigued, I accepted the offer, and soon listened to the woman that would affect me unlike any other.

Sarah’s style on Wish You Were Here was similar to that of KT’s in fundamental structure: both elected to use piano and guitar to keep the music classic, but incorporated drums and bass to deepen the feel. Both introduced tempo changes to create shifts in mood and showed great diversity in their song types. In my mind, the two women came to symbolize a new style of music I loved, and I did not bother to differentiate them or their methods. For weeks, I switched back and forth in my car, listening to one and then the other.

I was attracted in those days to the upbeat rhythms and smooth melodies of both women. Their instrument filled ballads reflected my smitten demeanor. KT’s song “Suddenly I See” from Eye to the Telescope created in me the urge to get up and dance; a difficult feat when driving, I assure you. The bass introduction in the middle of Sarah’s “Lodestar” had my heart soaring, reflecting on my blissful, though blind, love. Indistinguishable to me in my naiveté and carelessness, these women could do no wrong.

Although my relationship with Sarah and KT only grew stronger into October, cracks formed in my seemingly perfect love life. Within a week, my sweet and caring boyfriend had become cold and distant. It was only partially a shock when he walked away on Halloween. Yet, the lack of shock did not change the pain. Being thrown into a world where this person was nothing to me, neither lover nor friend, was too much to grasp. I found myself sitting, staring off into space, lost much too often in deep reflection. Shut down and despondent, I could not shake the pressure of being around him constantly (as we still had class together and lived in the same building). To clear my head, I took long drives, often going out to Toad Suck and sitting by the water. Sarah and KT accompanied me, offering comfort where they could.

I looked to both for understanding, but found in KT only the upbeat sound I now despised. Fearing the same from Sarah, I took hiatus to other, more somber music. Yet nothing satisfied me, and in desperation, I returned to Sarah. Unlike KT, I began to notice that beneath Sarah’s smooth and captivating melodies lay deep and penetrating lyrics- lyrics to which I related:

“There’s a hurt and sadness there; maybe I’d tell you all about it if I thought you’d care” (“Capsized”).
“And I’m not saying anything you think that I forgot. I’m not saying anything, but I’m thinking a lot” (“Weakened State”).
“Oh I loved you, and I guess I still do. Everything was going so good that I thought something bad might happen. And then, it did, if you know the difference between bad and good” (“Coffee Stain”).

The truth is, I have only heard one album from Sarah Harmer (all lyrics above are from Wish You Were Here), and so perhaps my love of her style is unjustified. I have often wondered: if I heard more of her music, would I like it? Would it affect me, allow me to grow, help me heal after falling so hard? I am not sure. However, it does not really matter. The experience brought us together, and though my situation has changed, my love of her music has not.

Whether wise or not, I have returned to the relationship that sparked this affair with Sarah’s music and now turn to her yet again for her bouncy air. In the same vein, KT has been reintroduced into my rotation. However, listening to Sarah now is not simply the free-spirited romp it once was. I have felt the meaning beneath the surface, and with each song I hear the warning. Happiness is fleeting, and pain always existing. Nevertheless, I live for today, taking both the good and the bad, knowing that I have Sarah along for the ride.

 

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