When I escaped to Los Angeles from Louisiana in 1987, I had a theme song: Peter Gabriel‘s “Big Time.” It fi
When I escaped to Los Angeles from Louisiana in 1987, I had a theme song: Peter Gabriel‘s “Big Time.” It fit perfectly well…
The place where I come from is a small town.
They think so small, they use small words.
But not me, I’m smarter than that, I worked it out.
I’ll be stretching my mouth to let those big words come right out.
I’ve had enough, I’m getting out
To the city, the big big city.
For the past little traveling while, my soundtrack has been more along the lines of Butterfly Boucher’s “Another White Dash”:
There is something exciting about leaving everything behind.
There is something deep and pulling leaving everything behind.
Something about having everything you think you’ll ever need
Sitting in the seat next to you.
And sometimes I lean toward Steven Delopoulos’s “Jungle Trail,” if I’m feeling a bit worn down about it all: Was tossed along that jungle trail.
There was nothing there, just thorns and nails.
Had no skin, no fur to wear.
But I straggled through the storm
In a search to find my home.
Peter Bradley Adams’ “The Longer I Run” creeps in sometimes, too:
When my blood runs warm with the warm red wine, I missed the life that I left behind.
And when I hear the sound of the black bird’s cry, I know I left in the nick of time.
Well this road I’m on is gonna turn to sand, and leave me lost in a far off land.
So let me ride the wind till I don’t look back, and forget the life that I almost had.
If I wander till I die may I know whose skin I’m in.
And if my home I never find, then let me live again.
Music really can be a guiding and/or driving force in our lives. It can uplift, inspire, invigorate, compel, taunt, and, in my case, shelter. There are tunes I just want to crawl inside and never leave. There are tunes I turn to again and again to get me through. They are not just my theme songs, they are my touch stones.
What are yours?