More Trip Music

Spring 2006, my daughter was a senior in high school.  I was the designated mom for a five-girl trip to the Florida Gulf coast.  We rented a condo in a high-rise, packed our shorts (and for them, bikinis), and took two cars.  Two vehicles were necessary not just for the six people, but for the luggage that five high school seniors could amass. The vehicles were my sedan and my daughter’s SUV.  We started with the two of us driving our respective cars. Our drive was six to seven hours, so music was essential.  Much of it was through the length of Alabama that stretches from the Tennessee border to the Florida border, through small towns with names like Luverne, Opp and Florala.  These are pretty towns with town centers that are fascinating to explore, but radio is not their strength.  It is imperative to bring your own tunes, or you will drown in the harshest of country music serenades. 

I insisted that the girls bring music.  One of the girls who rode a good ways in my car had a great collection.  Among the CDs was one I had never heard, a ballad with a familiar sound.  The singer was a British male and some of the words were indistinguishable to me, but I fell in love with the tune and sweetness of the song and played it several times.  No matter that I heard it a dozen times on the trip, every time it seemed that the first line of the song and it’s refrain included a woman’s name.  I discussed the song with the girl that brought the CD, calling it by that name, Adelaise.  What I heard was “This is lovin’, Adelaise.”  How wonderful. 

Once we reached our Destin-ation (I’m so funny!), I decided to make that song part of my own collection.  If the CD had belonged to one of my sisters I would have just stolen it, but that behavior stops at the family boundary line.  Instead, I went on a search.  I’m pretty aggressive about finding stuff on the Internet.  I looked high and low for the song, searching by lyrics, and could not find it.  I finally bent over backward to find out the singer’s name, and then spent hours on iTunes listening to little snippets of his songs.  When the familiar refrain finally played, I was ecstatic-and dismayed.  I had completely misheard the the beginning lyrics.  It was This Year’s Love, by David Gray, which begins “This year’s love had better last…”  David Gray was born in Manchester, England, and raised in Wales, something I tell myself as a comfort for my being completely unable to decipher that line.  Here’s a live performance of the song on youtube:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUY7KYeWGzc&NR=1 .  Enjoy.

Peace.

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One Response

  1. I love David Gray! (You know, in a manly way).

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