Summer of ’69: Something about this song reminds me of the halls of Magee Junior High. That’s the first place my mind goes when I hear it (probably because the Bryan Adams version was everywhere at the beginning of 8th grade, fall 1984), but I think it qualifies as a generally nostalgic song. I could easily make it autobiographical by tweaking the lyrics and singing about the summer of ’89, which turned out to be epic, but I won’t. I think the song is universally appealing, combining the intoxicating effects of summer AND first love AND playing music. That’s a recipe for some hardcore memory-making.
Where the Streets Have No Name: It’s hard to overstate the impact that “The Joshua Tree” had on my life in early 1987. I was 15, certifiably crazy in love for the first time, resting somewhat comfortably in my social niche as my sophomore year of high school came and went. We saw U2 and Lone Justice the first week of April (where I instantly developed a girl crush on Maria McKee), then got the great news that U2 was coming back in December to Sun Devil stadium and playing two nights. But the best part was that the tickets were $5 each. I kid you not. To this day, those jangling sounds of the guitar at the beginning of WTSHNN make my heart beat a little faster and take me right back to those cold, drizzly nights at the stadium when U2 began each show with that song. They would just about kill the audience with anticipation and stretch that intro out for 4-5 minutes, til we were all just screaming hysterically waiting for the song and the band to explode onto the stage. It was magic.
Here’s the backstory on that, though. At the beginning of 1987, I was in deep smit with Aaron. At the peak of it all, he found out he had to move when school got out. It was a perfect teenage tragedy, and “With or Without You” was the soundtrack for our sorrow. Those specific feelings were long gone, but that song was still almost too painful to listen to. Seriously, sometimes it still makes my chest all tight and gives me tummy flutters because it's stuck in my muscle memory, and it just perfectly captures the pain of separation. Interestingly, I have talked about this with other people and they have had the same experience. Twenty years later (or whatever) they still get choked up. Someone even said she still changes the station when it comes on. So kudos to U2 for writing an exquisitely painful love song. Anyway, back to the narrative—Aaron left and I survived. My junior year began and a boy that my friends and I had admired from afar the whole year before asked me to go out with him. I didn’t turn 16 until the end of September, so he offered to take me on my first real date: the premier of “The Princess Bride.” Um, yeah. Needless to say, we kept dating all the way through graduation because he was super cool. So it was with him I stood in the rain at Sun Devil stadium as we took our place in rock and roll cinematic history, our little lighters playing a supporting role in the film, “Rattle and Hum” (which we also went to see together the next year). PS: it was also with him that I took my first and last greyhound bus ride from Tempe to Tucson after that show. Never again. From then on, we traveled in his little green Fiat and later, his little white Festiva—“The Tic Tac.".
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Next installment: What do The Ramones and Jimmy Buffett have in common (besides heavy drug use)?
