That Old Song That You’ll Never Hear Again
Sometimes you come across people who seem unremarkable until you get to know them. Such was the case of the cubicle worker that sat right in front of me, back when I was a corporate employee. Her name was Cristianne LaPierre. She was a white woman in her early 30s, about my same age. She was quite nondescript, simple. Her only notable feature was that she wore a hair clip. This was the type of woman that you would pass on the street on any given day and not give a second of attention to. But because she sat right in front of me at work, I got to know her.
Our friendship evolved slowly, but over time I came to really appreciate her. As it turned out, beyond her simple appearance, she had quite an interesting mind and a good nature. She was into music, reading, and the outdoors. We hung out a few times, and it was always pleasant. I lost track of her shortly after she left the company. It’s been decades, but every time I think of her, I still feel that comfort, that tranquility that surrounded her. I know that I could look her up, and perhaps find her instantly. But I’d rather remember her as she was, a young, easygoing, gentle person.
80s music used to be a thing of the past. During most of the 1990s, if you wanted to listen to 80s music you’d have to have an actual CD to go back and revisit the old hits. There wasn’t enough nostalgia yet to have a radio audience. It was until satellite radio came along that I started to hear 80s oldies again. Then, with YouTube, one could revisit music from the era at any time. And now, of course, with streaming, one has access to any amount of 80s music. It is no longer a thing of the past; it’s literally at your fingertips, at any moment. Except for that old song that no one seems to care for.
Back in the mid-80s there was this big rock band called Opus. They weren’t American. I don’t know where they were from, maybe German or Australian. They had a big worldwide hit called Live is Life. It was a catchy song about a band interacting with its audience, and it went over the same line over and over again,
Live is life,
Na na, na, na na
Live is life!
Na na, na, na na
The famous version sounded as if they had recorded it live. For some reason, no one mentions Opus anymore. There’s no nostalgia for them. There are no vintage-looking Opus t-shirts being sold. No one has ever mentioned them to me in conversation. 80s playlists don’t have any of their songs. But they were quite popular at some point. They had a great logo, millions of fans, and entertaining music videos. I recently watched the Live is Life music video on YouTube. It’s still quite enjoyable and fun to watch.
Beside Live is Life, Opus had another hit. It was called either You and I or Flying High; I don’t remember. Last night I woke up to the rain with that song in my head. It was a good number, slow-paced and heartfelt. I vaguely remember the chorus (and I may be wrong):
You and I,
Flyin’ high
We’ll get high,
High up in the sky
I know that I could look up this song and instantly find it and hear it again. But I’d rather keep it as a memory in my mind, like my old friend Christianne, whom I’ll never see again.
