The Best Song of 2014
Why you’ll disagree, and why that’s okay.
I. Summer, 2001
I was a 17-year-old high schooler who just had his heart broken. Like countless idiots before me and countless idiots to follow, I was convinced this first love was the real thing. There were no other options.
Then I went to Italy for two weeks and learned there were other options.
Before I left, my uncle lent me Making Movies by Dire Straits. There are technically seven tracks on the disc, but all I did was play “Tunnel of Love” and “Romeo and Juliet” over and over. “Tunnel” in particular spoke to me. The haunting vocals, the effortless drum fills, the guitar solos that flew in out of nowhere to kick me in the face.
And so, with Mark Knopfler providing the soundtrack to my eye-opening, other-fish-in-the-sea experience, I healed.
II. Winter, 2013–2014
Whether it was an anomaly or the new normal, winter in Chicago lasted nearly six months. Related: I walk to work every day.
Snow fell. It lingered. It froze. And the process repeated, over and over. I slipped and fell multiple times, once going face-first into a pile of snow. I’m pretty sure the whole city saw. That was bad. The cold was worse.
It was harsh enough to require a Patronus Charm. Brutal, relentless, soul-sucking cold. The kind of cold that yields an involuntary Dorn-taking-a-beanball reaction the moment you step outside.
It wasn’t endless, but it felt that way. Then, finally, light at the end of the tunnel. As I walked home in April 2014 — the first night in six months I didn’t need a jacket — I heard “An Ocean In Between the Waves” by The War On Drugs for the first time.
III. April, 2014
My wife was pregnant with Baby One. It’s not my intention to fish for sympathy, so I’ll briefly say we had strong evidence to suggest we would never be able to have kids.
Suddenly, pregnant. As I heard “An Ocean In Between The Waves” for the first time, I was overcome. With the knowledge that my wife was actually pregnant, seasons change and life is good.
IV. Why It’s the Best Song of 2014
This concludes the personal stuff. Thank you for indulging me. Backstory is important in music, I think. It’s a bit like our sense of smell. What happens when you go for years without hearing a song you love, only to have it return to you unexpectedly? Your eyebrows shoot up. You recite the lyrics word for word. You’re transported back to a time and a place. It’s downright magical.
When I hear “Ocean” and its underwater bass line, swelling solos, and unorthodox-yet-endearing vocals, I hear Dire Straits. I’m back in Italy, healing. I’m also—simultaneously and magically—in the present day, healing.
V. Why You’ll Disagree
When you hear “Ocean”, you might not like it. The vocals are weird to you. Throwback Indie Rock is not your genre. You Googled the band and found out the lead singer has long and curly hair, which you think is gross.
The point is, when you hear “Ocean,” you’re not back in Italy. You’re not celebrating a winter’s end and a pregnancy’s beginning. You’re having your own reaction to it. It might be more powerful or less powerful than mine. But it’s different.
VI. Why That’s Okay
Music is the hardest thing in all of pop culture in which we can come to a consensus. It’s rooted in vulnerable, personal experience in a way movies, books, and games are not. Rotten Tomatoes for movies. Goodreads and Amazon for books. Metacritic for games. For music? We say “Forget the experts. I know what I like.”
I have two challenges for you.
The first challenge: move when you listen to your music. This could mean walking, dancing, or running in your neighborhood. You could be in your car or in a faraway land. I have a (completely unfounded) theory that movement + music = memory. Try it.
The second challenge: open up. Try new music and see if you like it. Click “related artists” more often. But mainly: respect the musical opinions of people you care about, no matter how different they are. When they share them with you, they choose to expose a guarded and vulnerable part of themselves. That’s a huge moment. Don’t you dare blow it.
