This song has a story to it. The first time I heard it (and the first time Zach played it in public, as far as I’m aware) I was in a small bar in Brooklyn, nursing the wounds of a day-old breakup. Despite accepting the reasons for the split, and despite having ended things amicably, I found that I was still very sad about the whole thing. I had liked him.
I hadn’t anticipated that my ex would be there that night, or that he would make a point to ignore me altogether. As I recall, he was standing right in front of me, just a little bit to the left when Zach sang the line “Come on, my love, I’m not the one that you were looking for. I’m not the shoulder you should cry on. I am the one you should’ve let go.” I stood in the audience fighting back tears while friends reached out with gestures of quiet empathy. I hung in there just long enough to see it through the end, and then I grabbed the nearest coat (incidentally, not mine) and booked out of the bar. It took half a block for my best friend to catch me; where I stood, on a sleepy street corner, and sobbed. Zach’s song cut.
Hearing it again made me think of the music we tie to moments. Music is incredibly powerful in its ability to wake the memories we’ve long since forgotten. There’s the memory of Zach’s song, and there are others. Joseph Arthur wailing on a harmonica. Ryan Adam’s cover of Wonderwall. Timshel, while hanging onto a friend
What are the songs for you that are stamped (good or bad) with the memories of a relationship?