Like jotting words and phrases down on some diner napkin we hope to turn into some lyrical opus; some things just take a little time. It often isn’t clear until we step back and try to see the complete picture. We can be left with an image of the entire puzzle but lack the pieces, while other times we’re left with a lot of pieces that just don’t fit. I’m a big purveyor of this sort of ideology; that sometimes life can take a little time to work itself out. The issue of “fate” is a dicey topic – some believe that we follow a predetermined course in which you merely ‘go through the motions’, while others feel that if fate truly exists, all we have to do is lie in bed and wait for life to come to us.
I’m not talking about the big picture at the moment; I’m not looking at the complete puzzle. I’m merely taking a peak into one of the many pieces that make that picture, a small fragment of an existence that is far from complete. While some say that nostalgia is overrated, I tend to savor those moments – the “melodies and memories”.
Hong Kong isn’t a bad place at all. Like Singapore, it is predominantly a consumer driven economy – if you’ve got the money to spend, they’ll have things you’ll want to buy. My budget was extremely limited, leaving me with the choice of nice warm meals or as many CDs I could possibly procure in one overseas trip. Needless to say, I wound up with a personal record of 25 CDs in about a week worth of trips to Tower and HMV. Hong Kong isn’t exactly a Mecca for independent music so I couldn’t get punk rock records from mom and pop stores. Unless I wanted the latest Canto-pop single, I’d have to pay the ridiculous prices that such worldwide chains charge – besides, I was getting used to all those cold chicken dumplings anyway.
Amidst all the foolish, reflex purchases (anyone want a copy of Home Grown’s Act Your Age?), I found a real gem. I’m not a big fan of compilations but the one compilation that remains a favorite of mine is One Foot Records’ Check This Out! Vol. 1. Among the raw punk, rock goodness (great bands like Pep Rally, Funbox, Lick 57’s, and The Tie That Binds) was an exceptional track titled “Breathe”. Like the first time you see your favorite artist take the stage, the feeling and excitement was unparalleled. At the time, it was unexplainable, I did not know why the song was so great or why Racer Ten had quickly become an artist I was dying to find out more about. So like any eager beaver I set out and went through every available resource (in Asia) I could go through to find their debut full length. And like most previous ventures in the Asian continent, my quest was most humbly brought to an end without satisfactory results.
We knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I guess when you’re “ooh”-ing and “aah”-ing every Bubba Ray Dudley chair shot, laughing at the guy who got hit in the head by the flying can of coke and yelling profanities at the idiot who was dumb enough to wear a New York Jets jersey to a rowdy bingo hall in some run down part of Philadelphia, you forget the little things. So there we were; Andreas (the Norwegian kid who disappeared after graduation), Dave and I, standing at a bus stop at 2am in the morning hoping that the bus we see across the street is the final bus out of the city. There are very few things more frightening to a couple of suburban kids than the thought of being stranded in the “bad part of town” at ungodly hours.
A few thoughts ran through my mind:
1 – Why didn’t we plan a ride home from the ECW Arena?
2 – Do they run flattering photographs of you on the side of milk cartons?
3 – Thank God I found a copy of Racer Ten’s Melodies and Memories. (Current copy count: 1)
So at least if by some unfortunate cosmic reason the bus across the street was not the right bus, I’d had the chance to fully listen to that Racer Ten CD. I’d be able to remember how when stumbling across the large amount of CDs on display at some record store in South Street, my eyes came across the CD I had been longing to own. A joyous occasion, marked by Andreas giving me that “I don’t care, I own a Turbonegro release AND I’m on the soccer team” look after I showed him what I had found. Still, even if my occasion was as insignificant to him as another girl getting all giddy around him, it was a big deal to me.
Senior year of high school can be a lot to take for some people. The pressures of graduating, scoring on prom night and the ill effects of ‘senioritis’ can be tough on someone who is at the point where you replace ‘high school’ in all your sentences with ‘college’. Like most people I know, a certain album, song or artist will act as their soundtrack to life during a certain period. Testing times call for particular songs to help one through with clearer heads. Sometimes all the things we want to say or feel are exemplified to perfection in a song or record. For me, that record was Racer Ten’s first LP.
In effect, they wrote all the songs I wanted to write.
They provided some meaning, some understanding to why some things were the way they were. Why maybe all I really need to do in life is put my best foot forward and that it isn’t always about being first in line (and why a certain Lori G. would rather date some chunky, overweight kid than me).
Strangely enough, a few weeks after I found the CD at a record store I received an intriguing package in the mail. It was in fact, the same Racer Ten CD. How about that? I just remembered that awhile back I had slipped money into an envelope and sent it off to Alberta, Canada. Due to my lack of patience and confidence in the postal system, I didn’t think twice about picking up a copy in a record store knowing one was on the way already. (Current copy count: 2)
At the time it was honestly quite strange – a life I had only seen behind television screens became a reality for me. American high school was in fact, what is seen on TV shows and teen movies. There were bullies, cliques, extremely good looking girls, lazy students, pep rallies, awful football teams and Friday night parties with no alcohol. And that last one really bothered me, the transition from living in a country where there is (in reality) no real enforced drinking age to one where you can buy a gun and drive a car before getting drunk was something new. I was an impressionable, naïve, open eyed, optimistic teen who endured the days and wrote them down at night.
The summer before college, a time for reflection, a time where young men prep themselves for the most important educational phase of their lives … yeah, right. The only thing on the mind of a heterosexual, semi educationally inclined B+ student going to college is girls, girls and whatever girls are left. Buoyed by lascivious tales and Penthouse forums, plans for an all out assault on hapless freshmen girls were in the works. A buddy of mine had the inside scoop; his older brother had been entrenched in the front lines for several years now and shared with us intelligence and info on the enemy. We were set; he was going to take his chances out East in Rochester while I decided to try my hand in California.
Somewhere in between discussing college girl etiquette and realizing that my buddy already had a girlfriend, I saw that I had two copies of Racer Ten’s Melodies and Memories. Like a Good Samaritan, I felt like sharing this treasure and decided to pass along a copy to my Rochester bound friend. A move I would live to regret?
Ah … college. The time and place where throngs of young adults engorge in a weekly diet of beer and pizza, late night partying and occasional book browsing. Somehow, my roommate ended up being a Norwegian guy, a cool fellow, 6’7 volleyball player who on most occasions went to class everyday forgetting his books. Aside from discovering that 95% of what my buddy’s brother taught us didn’t work, the first year really bent preconceptions and preconceived notions about institutional education. For me, it really was about learning that life does not come to you; in fact, it almost tries to pass you by. You really, really have to go for it.
Unfortunately for my Racer Ten CD, my roommate could no longer tolerate the all night partying and general loudness our hallway was known for. Understandable considering that he had to get up at the crack of dawn for volleyball practice. So with him moving out, I had a lot more space to myself (the room was much, much cleaner too). The day he moved out I spent most of it in class and when I returned, I noticed that there was a gathering of dust in the shape of the stereo where it once stood. I didn’t think it would be a problem, I’d just have to buy a new stereo – until I saw the jewel case to Melodies and Memories lying on the table, open and empty.
I wasn’t in high school anymore; I had grown up a little and moved on. And for some strange, inexplicable reason I said to myself, “It must be in the stereo he took, I’ll get it later”.
That moment ranked up there with other notable terrible ideas like New Kids on the Block releasing a gangsta rap/hip hop album and Glitter. Nevertheless, later become months and when I went over to his apartment to finally retrieve it, he had no idea he had it and no idea where it went. As I staggered through his pile of ear piercing, head ache inducing Euro-pop CDs, I slowly came to the depressing notion that it was lost forever.
You learn a few important lessons when you join a fraternity. Among the things you learn are that alcohol is not always your friend and in the case of you waking up next to someone, well, undesirable, the best course of action is to run. In all seriousness, when you go to a relatively small college your fraternity house becomes a focal point of social events. People are always around and there is either someone acting like a dumbass or someone who is about to. Privacy and serenity becomes a priceless commodity and it is not out of the ordinary to see people up and leave just to get away for awhile. While some were able to go home for the weekend, escape to their significant other’s abode or just disappear into the countryside, I was several oceans away from home.
I sought refuge in music. In the music I went to see, the music I bought to hear and the music I inspired to write. While I came across a host of new musical inspiration from an expanding genre interest, there was still one sentimental longing to find that one release, that one soundtrack of days gone by. By then, Racer Ten had called it quits and gone their separate ways. They released another, almost as formidable full length titled The World of Tomorrow and left an indelible mark on a certain, one time naïve, open eyed kid. To my surprise, their website was still online – replete with merchandise and purchasing info. A few weeks before my return home, I slipped a nice bill into an express package to Canada. I hoped that it would reach me before I left but like Corey Haim’s Dad professing his son was Oscar worthy – it just wasn’t going to happen.
So as I jetted across the globe towards third world destitution, my prized Racer Ten package was taking its leisurely trek to Northern California. To make matters worst, the person who sent the package decided that since I sent him , he’d give me two copies of each release. (Current copy count: Melodies and Memories – 4, The World of Tomorrow – 2) You reach a certain breaking point after this much disappointment.
In retrospect, two years has made a significant difference in my life. I still think that I’m optimistic and open eyed, but I don’t think I’m as naïve as I used to be; but I’m not the only who’s changed. The world in its entirety has and personally, if I were put back into that very first class during senior year in high school with what I know now – I’d have done everything differently.
Lucas once said, “I do not regret the things I have done, but those I did not do.”
Looking back there are many instances at which I wish I had done something else. So in reality, that quote is right – I did do something, so I don’t regret not doing anything, it’s just in some cases I did the wrong thing.
The thing is, I did get myself another copy of Racer Ten’s Melodies and Memories – I actually got in touch with Sean of Racer Ten fame and through his kindness, he sent me a copy of each. Funny how these things work out – who knows, maybe I’ll get all the pieces I need to finish this puzzle someday and things just might work out in the end.
Final copy count: Melodies and Memories – 5, The World of Tomorrow – 3.