memory is a strange thing. last night on the drive home from philadelphia, i conducted a little experiment.  i played this album “throwing copper” by the band live, which was released in 1994.  this album was a hugely influential album on me as a teenager and one of my favorite bands at that age.  unlike some other bands that endured over the years that i still listen to, i left live behind somewhere in the mid-to-late 90’s and never really picked them back up again. when i started DJing the 240 minutes alt-rock 90’s nights with kenny, i pulled the old CD out and, on a whim, put it on my iPod, but never really listened to it. well, last night i played the whole record in its entirety and while the music still sounded a little dated, i was taken aback by one thing: i still knew all of the words.  all of them.  i could sing along word for word to songs i hadn’t heard in probably 12 years. isn’t that crazy? i can’t remember the names of streets i’ve lived on, old phone numbers, names of girls that i’ve kissed, but for some weird reason, the lyrics to all these songs are somehow locked away in some hidden corner of my brain. how does that happen?  how does that work?

memory is a strange thing.

last night on the drive home from philadelphia, i conducted a little experiment.  i played this album “throwing copper” by the band live, which was released in 1994.  this album was a hugely influential album on me as a teenager and one of my favorite bands at that age.  unlike some other bands that endured over the years that i still listen to, i left live behind somewhere in the mid-to-late 90’s and never really picked them back up again.

when i started DJing the 240 minutes alt-rock 90’s nights with kenny, i pulled the old CD out and, on a whim, put it on my iPod, but never really listened to it.

well, last night i played the whole record in its entirety and while the music still sounded a little dated, i was taken aback by one thing:

i still knew all of the words.  all of them.  i could sing along word for word to songs i hadn’t heard in probably 12 years.

isn’t that crazy?

i can’t remember the names of streets i’ve lived on, old phone numbers, names of girls that i’ve kissed, but for some weird reason, the lyrics to all these songs are somehow locked away in some hidden corner of my brain.

how does that happen?  how does that work?