What songs are on your life's playlist?
Here are some of mine — and what I learned from building it
The other day I heard “Tubthumping” by Chumbawumba, and it instantly took me back to the summer of 1997. I was on a ferry from France to Ireland with two exotic dancers from Wisconsin and a redheaded kid from central Oregon. We’d met at a hostel in France, and in the spontaneous way we traveled back then — a Let’s Go guide, backpack, no plans — we decided to take the ferry to Ireland together.
That night was like pure 90’s backpacker lore: cheap beer, Dunhill Reds, a green peacoat I’d picked up in Amsterdam, thick sea mist. Suddenly “Tubthumping” started playing, and all of us backpackers started singing and dancing, pumping our fists in the air. It became our unofficial anthem. I get knocked down. But I get up again. You’re never gonna keep me down!
Now, every time I hear that ridiculous song, I smirk at the memory of that night.
Many studies confirm what we already know instinctively: songs unlock memory.1 Researchers call it music-evoked autobiographical memory, or MEAM.2 Songs transport us back to scenes, emotions, and entire chapters of our lives. They’re like time-capsules. Music is biography.
Lately I’ve been assembling a “playlist of my life” with songs that trigger personal memories. It’s been a whirlwind of emotions: campy humor, nostalgia, and quiet gratitude. It’s reminded me how blessed I’ve been, and how ordinary too. I’m a walking cliche of late-Gen X, suburban American memory.
In this essay, I’ll share parts of my playlist and a few things I’ve noticed along the way. I hope it sparks something in your own musical biography.
I’d love to know: What’s on your life’s playlist? Share a song or two in the comments.
When I thought back to my earliest musical memories, they came as Polaroid-like snapshots:
I’m a toddler in the living room. My parents play Grease on the record player. I try to snap my fingers to “Summer Nights.”
All five kids are packed in the family station wagon for a road trip. My mom plays campy music from the Mormon musical, “My turn on Earth,” and we reluctantly sing along.
My dad’s driving me to soccer practice as the fog lifts off the Marin hills. I’m riding shotgun, window down, Bay wind in my face. “American Pie” plays. He turns it up and softens.
I’m at my first Oakland A’s game. The team wins, and the crowd goes wild to “Celebration.” Celebrate good times, come on!
I also noticed how songs bridge individual and collective memory. Like many of my generation, the mid-to-late 80s were a golden era for musical memory. Psychologists call this a “reminiscence bump” — a tendency to recall more memories from age 10 to 30 — so the timing makes sense.3
Like others, I sang “We are the world” on the school bus, moonwalked to “Billy Jean” in the school hall, and jived to “Money for Nothing.” I want my MTV.
I remember when my mom glimpsed a “Sweet Dreams” music video and banned MTV from the house. “That’s evil,” she said.
The 80’s gave us Madonna, Def Leopard, and the Cars. Teen movies from that era stamped my memory with songs I still love: Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, St Elmo’s Fire.
Wham and “Gloria” bring me back to line dancing in a sixth-grade ballroom dance course. “Take My Breath Away” transports me to an 8th grade mixer. I’m slow-dancing with a girl with big bangs while my friends change the lyrics to “take my breasts away.”
My high school soundtrack started with “Welcome to the Jungle” and ended with “These are the Days.” In between came a brief rap phase (Run-DMC, Eazy-E), a long alternative phase (the Smiths, Cure, Depeche Mode), grunge (Nirvana, Soundgarden), and my personal favorite, REM.
Songs from Out of Time or Automatic for the People make me feel sixteen again, driving to school in my red Nissan through the Oregon drizzle. “Losing My Religion” reminds me of riding in my friend’s blue convertible Beetle on sunny days, not to mention Brenda-Dylan drama from 90210.
Many of my memory-triggering songs tie to travel. For example, “Two Princes” was the anthem of my AFS summer in France. “Mr. Jones” takes me back to a college road trip to the Zuni reservation in New Mexico, where I volunteered.
After selling a business in my 30s, I spent a year traveling, and certain songs are like pins on a map: “Aisha” for Morocco. “Kids” for Australia, where I unwittingly traveled with a con-man. “Somewhere Only We Know” for New Zealand. But some places — like China, Nepal, and India — left no musical memories I can recall.
Other songs are less tied to places than emotional states. Comfortably Numb brings me back to peak high school gloom. Closer to Fine to late-night dorm discussions. Faith and Oh L’Amour to coming out. Solisbury Hill to new beginnings.
More recently, Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah reminds me of becoming a parent. Amor Fati marked my post-Covid rebuilding. Strawberry Swing triggers my middle-aged appreciation with its timeless tale of a perfect day.
They were sitting on the strawberry swing
Every moment was so precious
It’s almost jarring how songs can catch us off guard and take us back. While writing this essay, “Believe” by Cher played in the background, and I was instantly transported to New Year’s Eve, 1999. I was at a gay house party, and “Believe” must’ve played a dozen times. I met people at that party I’m still friends with to this day.
Songs surprise us in the present, too, shaping stories we’re still writing. Just this weekend, I visited a loved one with Parkinson’s who was recovering from a difficult operation. It was my third visit over the last month. We started arguing, unsure how to navigate a new dynamic of caregiving.4 Then, at the height of our frustration, I played a bagpipe version of “Amazing Grace” on my laptop, knowing it would stir his Scottish soul. We both went quiet. Something shifted. There was an unspoken recognition and poignant pause. We apologized.
It was another song for my life’s playlist. Maybe his too. And I hope both our lists keep growing.
That’s been the gift of this exercise: seeing songs as invitations for new memories and stories. One track at a time, individually and together.
What about you?
What songs are on the soundtrack of your life? Pick one or two and drop them in the comments. I’d love to know the stories they carry.
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Theme Song
It’s fun that this is a homonym with “meme.”
Just don’t call it “caregiving.” Trigger word!
Love this post. You’ve got some good ones on here. I’ve prob got 100 or so songs I’d include in this exercise. So many good ones.
NWA Express Yourself and Run DMC It’s Tricky and My Adidas were my first exposure to rap, remember hiding those tapes from my parents.
Listened to a lot of Widespread in college, plenty of Diner, Space Wrangler, Chilly Water, Fly to Safety.
Remember pre-partying to Underworld, 8 Ball, Born Slippy
One of my all time favs is Rose Rouge by St Germain. You can have the flu and anyone will feel at least a little bit cooler with that one on.
I started making a playlist every year of my life sometime in my teens, with songs that had been played or repeat or simply defined individual moments of that year. The singer Adele and I were the same age, and I think maybe I drew that inspiration from the fact that she titled her albums with her age. Anyway, I go back sometimes I listen to different years and I'm transported to a specific moment--a night of fun, a painful breakup, a dilemma, a strained friendship. I stopped doing this a few years ago, but it is remarkable what music does for memory. There are dozens of songs that take me back to the era of life when you and I met. Here are a few:
Lovers in a Dangerous Time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IX4gWkFqvU
Sprawl II: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awHWColYQ90
Barricade: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CxwL8Uz5QTw
and the aftermath of that era:
The Greatest: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqOwBkxhSZI
Rebels Without Applause: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oyyZXLrLUdo