i started making a playlist of songs my mom used to listen to when she got pissed off, and so far it has two entries: “The Bitch Is Back” and “You Oughta Know.”
a short playlist. a clear position.
somebody replied that “You Oughta Know” had been their big breakup song and that i was making them feel old. my mom was born in 1961. she was simply a big fan of angry power walking to Jagged Little Pill. the album had applications beyond its original target demographic.
i love that this is a detail i get to keep about her. not a grand statement about what she taught me, or a polished anecdote with a meaningful ending. just my mom being pissed off and putting on Alanis. extremely recognizable. no additional explanation necessary.
sometimes the song should also be mad
“You Oughta Know” does not arrive with a calming suggestion. it gets directly into being furious and stays there long enough to make a point. i can understand why someone would want that in her ears while walking with purpose.
there’s a kind of relief in a song that doesn’t ask you to be the reasonable person yet. maybe you will be reasonable later. perhaps there is a perfectly good explanation. for the next few minutes, however, Alanis is available to argue.
and then there’s Elton.
“The Bitch Is Back” has a different kind of swagger. even the title announces that we have moved past the discussion portion of the afternoon. i appreciate the confidence of a song that introduces itself like somebody has been waiting nervously for its return.
those two songs together tell me more about the playlist i want than padding it out to a respectable length would. i’m remembering what she actually listened to. i don’t need to manufacture a definitive thirty-track portrait of her because an app has space for more tracks.
she gets to be funny in the memory, too
i’ve written about using playlists to say things. this one is a little different. i’m not trying to send a carefully coded message. i’m trying to hang on to a detail that makes me hear her as a person.
when you miss someone, there’s a temptation to make every memory gentle enough to put on a sympathy card. but i don’t only miss an abstract, saintly version of my mother. i miss a specific woman who could be annoyed, funny, and ready to put on a song about it.
the angry power walking belongs in the record. so does the fact that remembering it makes me laugh.
i might remember another song later. for now, two is enough. you could put this playlist on repeat and have a very efficient disagreement with the entire neighborhood.
Featured image: livepict.com / source. CC BY-SA 3.0.
