Surreal Soundtracks
So much of music is memory. It is pressing play, putting the needle down, double-clicking and suddenly being awash with places, people, feelings. This might be the first of a series of pieces (or it might be the only one) where we write to musicians about meaningful experiences of where we’ve listened to their music. Sometimes they are what a friend calls surreal soundtracks, surprising juxtapositions of songs and moments that are initially incongruous but often profound. Sometimes they are while listening to something where it was written to be listened to. Any way, it matters.
Dear (The) National,
It feels rude to love a gift so much without saying thank you for it. Your music has scored the last five years of my life, most of which have been in East Africa. I wanted to tell you about some of the places I’ve listened to your music, places you might not have imagined it reaching when you wrote it.
I work in Tanzania now and I used to work in some pretty remote areas of northern Kenya. I worked for an ngo which gave micro grants ($150) to tiny businesses (stick structures selling tea, sugar, bubble gum, cattle de-wormer...) . We used to drive a circuit of 18 villages once a month to distribute money, conduct surveys and visit businesses. These were dirt tracks miles and miles from pavement, more than 10,000 miles away from Brooklyn where you wrote Boxer. But somehow, "Brainy" was the sound of driving on sandy roads past rocky outcroppings and herds of camels. "Racing Like A Pro"was the sound of a trail of dust kicked up on the shore of Lake Turkana, "Gospel" was thundering across a plain, red clay roads resplendent in the setting sun. I listened to Boxer probably a hundred times that year.
I listened when I loved being there. I listened when I didn’t. I listened when I didn’t know what I wanted. It was always the right thing.
With immense gratitude,
Emma
Emma Impink appreciates being carried in the arms of cheerleaders, walking with spiders and standing up straight at the foot of your love.