Auditory Memory

I had an aunt who said that buying soundtracks was stupid: once the movie's momentum was gone so would the interest for its music. My dad once said that movie music belongs to movies and that they have no way of fitting on our daily lives: our connection with it lasts while the film lasts. At first I was too coy to debate with them, but now having seen as much movies as I have seen and having heard as much movie soundtracks/original scores as I have heard I can fully disagree with them.

On early March I went to the best party I've attended to date: the Nave. Among the all-time favorites that were played by the party's DJs were two from Quentin Tarantino's 2003 masterpiece Kill Bill Vol. 1's soundtrack: a crazy remix of Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) and The 5, 6, 7, 8's Woo Hoo was played twice. These songs are my irrefutable proofs that movie music can transcend the celluloid.

When my relatives said those things they took for granted two powerful arts: filmmaking and music. It's known that a lot of a film's emotion would be hard to be transmited without a score and/or a soundtrack. Music is such a grand art that most of the songs contained on films soundtracks weren't written for the motion picture, but there they are molding themselves to the plot's spirit setting the mood for the public's catharsis. The art of filmmaking got as grand status in this sense especially for being able to mold an older and more independent art [despite of MTV music doesn't need video] to its designs. A recent example is the use of dancefloor classic Vogue on modern-already-classic The Devil Wears Prada. The song got a glamourous and even more iconic turn bathed in all those Channel's, Prada's, Gucci's etc etc. Nowadays I can't help feeling at a Dolce & Gabbana runway when I listen to Madonna's masterpiece.

Last night as I listened to the two Kill Bills' soundtracks I was struck by another confirmation of these arts' power: the feelings those songs imprint to one's emotional memory. While Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood got me holding my Hattori Hanzo, I before rode the town with my ultra-cool yellow outfit and motorbike at the sound of the Green Hornet theme. But Tarantino's music taste goes beyond filmy experiences. His last two epics transformed cult songs into mainstream gems [everybody heard-till-got-sick-of Carolina Márquez's The Killer Song with Bernard Herrmann's Twisted Nerve ill-used sample]; they also got my first contact with Ennio Morricone's genius music and I bet that everyone in the party I mentioned above felt like wacko Japs dancing at The House Of Blue Leaves whenever Woo Hoo was played, I at least did.

In addition, listening to a movie's soundtrack or score can bring back the feelings the movie brought upon you. One might say that way we limit the music to one thing, but that's what we do all the time isn't it? We can't feel everything when we do something, so we connect the situation to one sensation. Whenever I listen Dario Marianelli's tunes for 2005 literature adaptation Pride & Prejudice I feel connected to Lizzie Bennet's wit and vivacity and Mr. Darcy's charm and presence. When Isabelle Hupert sings Françoise Hardy's hit A Message Personnel or Fanny Ardant does the incredible bossa rendition of the wild French disco hit that is Nicoletta's A Quoi Sert De Vivre Libre both from the 2002 François Orzon's film 8 Femmes I feel the colors and the joi de vivre from those marvelous women.

Music and films is a match made in heaven, because for me film music is a way to keep vivid in my memory the awesomeness of the motion picture. The same way we lose momentum from a film and consequently its score we lose momentum from all kinds of artists and music. It's the moment that counts, whenever it is.

So, which is the soundtrack piece that rocks your socks?

[Song: The Secret Life Of Daydreams - Dario Marianelli]

Men With History

There's a Kabbalist saying that goes "you might be through with the past, but the past might not be through with you." In a society and era where everything happens so fast that you mostly don't have the time to breathe between an event and another, and the notion of time gets so confused that things that happened a while ago feels like an eternity, one might get entangled by the presence of the past in the present.

Almost a year ago I had a crush on a sixteen-year-old boy [those times are finally over] who I made out twice and was totally smitten about [nowdays I don't even know why]. I know it was mainly carnal, but I could tell he liked "my carnal"; days later he dumped me. Reason: a past affair came back from the dead and he decided to invest. Well, I hated the destiny's trick, I hated the fucker, but in the end I got over it.

You all who read this blog followed my sit-com worthy affair with "Comment guy". Comment guy! Lol, in my silly attempt to maintain myself detatched from sidekick feelings I tried to dress up a Holly Golightly behavior, giving him the Ho's and mine usual quirky nicknames, such as "comment guy" or "fuckface" [a fun word that is totally spoiled]. Foolish me ignored the fact that inside of me he already had a name, his own name [imagine this as the Kill Bill Vol. II scene when the Bride's name is revealed]: Éder.

So in our last date before I moved to Salvador I was kind of sick. My throat bitched on me again, but still he stayed with me, ignoring my probable sick breath; we kissed, we talked, we kissed again, we talked more. He offered me a column in his and his friends' fanzine about pop culture; he asked me to call him as I arrived there. Tell me, how not to fall? But that's exactly when things started to fall apart. When I arrived, I called and he never answered; it was like this for the whole week. As you know my brains decided to work over time and turned full creative mode on. Back to Conquista I called him and he said "things happened". Bingo! I had the answer to all my doubts about everything that went on the last week: the disappearance and all the implicating feelings. If you do not know yet, when someone you're having a romantic affair with tells you "things happened" in a sober-wannabe tone, be sure that those things are not good... for you!

This morning, almost 72 hours after that announcement with no more fuss and game details such as "dignity" I decided to call him. Uhg... it was somewhat ridiculous! He stuttered with a weak-ish voice but he finally said what I first thought when I heard the infamous line ["things happened"]: a past affair came back from the dead and he decided to invest. As for me, well I thanked my brains for imagining all the stupidest situations because I was able to tune up to my most stoic side and sounded serene and slightly cold. Of course it was all a bit awkward, because despite everything [?] we had, we never acted as if we needed to explain things to each other. But there he was making his speech, and here I was feeling relieved. I had my closure, I can move on.

And I will; but I won't be a hypocrite in saying I'm not angry or heartbroken. I love mystery, but suspense is just cruel and the level of suspense you make someone go through tells a lot of how much you care about this person. It proves once again the fact that we never know how much of our actions will affect other people, directly or not. After the call I felt angrier with myself for just at that moment being able to process/remember in my mind all the things I wished to say to him. Truth be told I wanted to bitch on him until he felt like shit, but in the end I'm glad I didn't; last thing I need now is another ego-trip. And things happened so quickly that I fell on time's trick. I felt like we were together for ages and we had a whole future ahead. But the same fast way things started between us, they ended with a casual encounter of his with the past, just fresh and raw like that.

I don't blame him for the things I felt in this period; yes he could have avoided all the painful suspense [I won't take that fault away from him] but the "painful" is addition of mine, I decided to come and investigate and face all the consequences that came along. He told me he was still a bit confused about everything [because this guy hurt him], sounding like "hey I'm not sure about this yet so stick around". But that's just not me, I'm not the type of guy who stands and waits for other people to make me happy; as you know I have no shame in casting dignity aside and going after what I want at the moment. Being utterly honest I was liking him, point in fact I think I still do, but I'll just carry on.

After all, why should I feel sad for what I never had?

[Song: The Power Of Good-Bye - Madonna]