We’ve all done it… we’ve all made “Mix Tapes”. And if not “tapes”, then CDs or MP3 playlists…, we’ve all been there. Crushing on a new flame, throwing together a handful of music tracks on a disc or, in my days, cassette, passing along an audio expression of your interest, intrigue, and intent. But this tape really was an artistic statement, a reflection of serval years together and apart, and it was also a bittersweet farewell, too. The songs spanned a relationship that went on for several years in a rather sporadic fashion. We shared roughly 5-7 years of “on again, off again, on again, off again, again and again.
Along the way, songs and movies become mental bookmarks of the time we shared. The songs and movie clips used in this were in reflection, recognition, and appreciation for what had transpired, both good times and struggles, as well as acceptance for what was and what would not be. There was absolutely a conscious aspect of closure to this, for me. Our lives had crossed and diverged several times. And when we’d gone our separate ways, there was always an undercurrent for me of a connection that’s simply the value of shared experiences and a baseline respect for each other's best intentions, regardless of the outcomes.
This audio production was an elaborate undertaking. It was essentially a “live performance”. I spent days on end during my drive to and from work reviewing the many songs that I already associated to us, and thinking too of the movies we’d watched that could represent the emotions I’d experienced throughout those periods: infatuation, passion, resentment, hope, remorse, resolve and acceptance. All of which was captured with the use of music and lyrics in my song selections, and audio clips of movies functioning as bridges prefacing each song. Those clips represent the time we shared as much as the period and feelings of the relationship they’d been used to express in this effort.
I had scripted it all out on paper first, setting out the sequence of tracks and clips in my head and on paper too. I wish I still had those handwritten timing notes, but they’re long gone. I plotted out the beats or words that would mark the transition points between each track. I used one of the small mixing boards from the DJ business, ran lines in from a video VHS player and a CD player with a headphone monitor to balance the mix in real time. As I would reach the point to switch to a movie track, I’d press PLAY on the VCR and fade the queued audio in, while pulling the prior CD out, and quickly queuing up the next disc and audio track and do it over again. Back and forth. Until both sides of a 60min audio cassette were filled to a perfectly timed 30min set each. As a finishing touch, I printed a simple label, a black and white image by Patrick Nagel that I’d always mentally associated with her, with a simple dedication as to the value the relationship had been.
I played the completed tape to myself over and over for a day or two before giving it to her. There were only a few minor changes I’d wanted to make, but they were so minor that I let the perfectionism slide a bit and delivered my gift to her at her work late one evening. Renee was working at Nordstroms in Hillsdale at the time, and living in San Jose. I drove to her work, I may have included a rose with the tape in gift-wrap… I’m not quite sure anymore.... but I gave it to her, I drove home, and I waited. She got off later in the evening and I presumed her hour-long drive home would be spent having the imagery unfold as it encompassed the range of years and emotions. It was as epic as any relationship spanning your ones young adulthood might be. Later that night, the phone rang, and as I recall it, all she could say was “Wow”. Repeatedly. The tape had left her speechless because there really wasn’t much to say past that point. It’d all been said already.
We remained friends for many years after, meeting for lunch occasionally, we stayed in touch and nurtured the connection, even if it was sporadic. We each had our respective lives and a shared past too. When I got engaged, there was a part of me that held onto an idealistic hope that marriage would not end our friendship. Somehow it did, though. Part of the reason came from my wife’s discomfort with what she felt was inappropriate. I didn’t agree, but I did capitulate, more than I should have in hindsight. I wanted my friend to stay in my life, maybe to even to see her and my wife laughing at dinner about my particular idiosyncrasies and ridiculous humor, feeling confident and comfortable in having successfully transitioned things without conflict or concerns. By then we’d been ‘just friends’ for 8+ years. Renee had had an experience with another set of friends in a similar situation, and I wanted that too. But I didn’t get to have it. And although we’ve bumped into one another every year or two, it’s always filled with an awkward mix of joy and a tinge of loss that the vast time apart has created. But I still recognize her as one of a handful of people whose presence enriched my life then and well beyond.
I’ve wanted to transfer that audio cassette to a digital format for many years. The desire would arise, I’d have the best intentions, and something else would demand my time instead. But last month, I finally did it. I bought an old tape player, ordered a converter cable to connect to my computer, and proceeded to port the audio cassette into MP3. I’d done so just before going with friends to a local winery, and on the drive, my friend was complimenting my work on an audio CD I’d created back in 1997. Something similar to this, but focused on a transitional year and 12 key focuses of my life at that time. His praise was encouraging and having had the transferred audio already ‘in the cloud’ I played it for them. It was the first time anybody that I know of other than Renee and I had ever heard it. But as I shared it, the sound quality was an issue and, as magnetic tape is prone to do over time, the audio was warping, slowing and straining, and off pitch. The tape, my only copy, was seemingly damaged by age, beyond repair.
Faced with the loss of this audio memento I did the only thing an artistic soul can do. I remastered it. Using current technology. In a matter of hours.
I hope you’ll listen and enjoy the effort with insight into the inspiration and intention. I don’t imagine for a minute that all of the clips or songs will make complete sense to you. They’re somewhat “inside references” from the relationship. I considered breaking down the meaning of each track, but I prefer letting the listener put together the pieces as best as they can. But, if it leaves you speechless, I’ll feel like my effort has spanned not only the passage of time but that I might have touched a nerve or two of your own personal history and the experiences of youth, too.