The Song That Changed My Life

karaokeI lived my whole life, until I was 17, in East Maitland, New South Wales, Australia. It was a quiet, comfortable, fortunate life. Do not get me wrong. I loved, nay, adored, my parents, and still do. I love that I can still go “home” and sleep in “my room”.

However.

I totally blame those very same, very smart, very well-educated, very well-read parents for encouraging me to ALSO read, learn, achieve, aspire … which I did, and which, ultimately, made me want to leave.

So, it’s, gosh, 1993. I am 17. I have dreams of Paris and London and, scariest of all, going to Sydney University. Of … LEAVING Maitland.

Like many of my contemporaries, I sat, religiously, on my couch late most Friday and Saturday nights, watching Rage on the ABC, waiting for a new, great song, or to hear an old, great song, that would do, mean something

The DrownersAnd then, The Drowners came on.

I heard, saw, felt, wanted, a different life. The music was different. The look was different. The men were different. The girl in the clip was different. “When Suede released their debut single, The Drowners’ sashaying tune and provocative lyric felt like a bomb detonating.” Martin Aston, liner notes, “The Best of Suede”.

My perception of what was possible changed with that song. In that place. At that time. Being who I was. And, 21 years (!) later, I can see and appreciate that any moment, any experience in life can change your direction through it completely. Be open to those moments. Listen to your “gut”, your “soul”, your “instincts”.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.” – Steve Jobs

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3 responses to “The Song That Changed My Life

  1. After you told me of Suede, I sat in my bedroom with headphones on and listened to the whole album in one hit. I was in love! The band members were sensitive, poetic and smart. They had an op-shop elegance and ambiguity not readily found with most Aussie blokes. It was a revelation. Can’t thank you enough for introducing me. x

    • I was stuck in traffic this morning, watching the rain, and singing along to “Pantomime Horse”, “The 2 of Us”, and other suitably melancholy songs from the Suede catalogue. It felt right …

  2. Pingback: Ism Schism | marrickville maman·

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