Song 2 (electric boogaloo?)

(and now...I return to the music of my formative years)

Operation Ivy - "Sound System"

"Sound system gonna bring me back up yeah
one thing that I can depend on"

That line burned a small hole in my psyche the first time I heard it. While the song itself isn't linked to any specific event or moment in my life, it does represent the bridging of two musical time zones for me. It also caused me to become a life-long OpIvy fan (despite the naysayers, including my lovely girlfriend).

Late in high school, my life, despite my growing absorption into punk subculture, was ruled by ska. It was the early-mid nineties after all. My very first non-auditorium show was a Mephiskapheles show at the Rathskeller - a Madison free-show bastion - at the tender age of fourteen (yes I know I'm a late bloomer).

By the time I left for my first collegiate endeavor - a less-than successful one - ska was slowly being phased out of my life, in favor of an growing lust for punk. It was during one of those early, fanatical lapses when I was struck with the realization that no particular musical style had to be remanded to the periphery. You'd think this was common sense, but somehow I misplaced that mentality as an upstart teenager. Some people just get sucked into a realm which saps them of their desire to indulge in anything beyond the sonic smeldings which most appeal to them. I became one of those people. In any case, Operation Ivy reminded me of that fundamental understanding: that aphorism which mentions something about variety being highly preferable when seasoning life to taste and enjoy.

The first time I heard "Sound System," I was hanging out in my friend's basement, contemplating shaving my first mohawk; something which didn't actually happen until college. Several years later a similar moment occurred, when lounging around my friend's dorm room, as he fanned his fiery red mohawk, this minor epiphany struck upon me. Unfortunately, any philosophical development was temporarily shelved, as the conundrum of 18-year-old kids acquiring beer drastically outweighed enlightenment.

That night, we listened to that CD nearly constantly as we rode to the punk show, top down in his restored 68 mustang, mohawks flapping in the breeze. Ever since that evening, a warm glow spreads through me every time I hear this song, and Operation Ivy in general.