What's Your Favourite Song?

A wonderful new invention enables us to read our “chat logs”, that to the average and somewhat uninterested MSN user are simply records of chat sessions we had with people online since the feature was installed. I guess in a way rereading anything from the past; diaries, blogs, scrappy notes, letters, e-mails, is always… surprising. Surprising, why? To know how much you’ve changed. Living with yourself everyday, it’s hard to notice subtle changes. You don’t really realize when you grow an inch (except when it means procuring some nasty head bumps if you’re unlucky) but you do know the difference between being as high as your daddy’s knee (or if you’re like me and have this cool selective memory, you probably won’t remember anything from that period except for traumatizing events such as being stranded in a big and scary airport) and being tall enough to hug him without him having to stoop. I repeat: it’s the subtle changes we miss. Sometimes we forget entire events in our lives, and sometimes just moments. Sometimes, what should be an entire summer vacation worth of memories, just consists of the smell of a tree, the taste of an orange bar, and the colour of that faded t-shirt of his you hated. Very often, there are entire blanks we find hard to recollect, I think, on purpose, for the sheer mortification of it all. Words from the past help fill up these blanks, even if sometimes, you wished they didn’t.

Digging out old emails, I actually saw myself writing “thx 4 evrythin, I luv u 2” and signing off with nothing short of “Avantika: basically the greatest”. I hate that font! Well, at least I do now. And that’s the least of it. Need I explain? I also remember one rainy Saturday night when a really good friend introduced me to his “crush” (who is now also, a really good friend) and I vividly remember our conversation. Her nickname was a shocking collection of symbols and leet and now she cringes whenever I bring it up. So much has changed from that one evening. Heart-breaks, exams, friendships ruined, new ones made, grades, graduation even! And no one tripped in their saris (well, tripping on Church Street doesn’t count because graduation was over by then!) We’ve gone from snotty little brats telling on each other to big grown up brats stealing fire extinguishers.

And music has evolved so much with us, every step of the way. I think the summing up of what I am trying to say rests in one simple question, or rather in its answer:

What’s your favourite song?


If I could be so Ms. Abbreviationist as to say, most FAQ ever! It could be a tricky question, one used to judge you absolutely. Dare mention a song like, “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman” and face the large possibility of being stared at with pity, revulsion and in most cases, scorn. Mention an R&B hit and the rock idealists will spit at your feet and wander off muttering rants about the degradation of music after the likes of 50 cent hit the charts. Mention a Fall Out Boy single and again, be ready to be classified as a wannabe-punk-rocker who, once again, has terrible taste in music, and therefore, is an intellectually challenged being. But I am (as usual) being pessimistic and not getting to the point.

While examining the question of a favourite song simply, it is typical to assume that that choice, the one selection, would be an utter reflection on one’s music taste. So, now, if I tell you that my number one favourite song is “Angels” by Robbie Williams (and here I kid you not), I can already hear your brains whizzing away (that does generate interesting imagery), type casting me as another of the pop loving, Mariah Carey worshipping sort. Not the same girl who crusades for Ryan Adams and screeches at people who prefer Bethany Joy Lenz and Tyler Hilton’s poppy boy-bandish version of “When The Stars Go Blue”.

So what is it that decides your favourite song? A memory, is my answer. Alright, maybe sometimes it is the best of the genre you like the most, so, for instance, “Aces High” might be a metal head’s favourite song. But sometimes, how can one explain a hard-core punk fan sheepishly claiming that “Baby… One More Time” is his/her all-time favourite song?

I’ve seen the answers evolve from Backstreet boys’ songs (when a certain group of boys – who’d vehemently deny this – threw their jackets on an audience of screaming girls as they crooned “I don’t care who you are – as long as you love me” during a Western Music concert) to Britney Spears’ tracks, Guns and Roses’ songs (when everyone was going through the initial rock phase), Blink 182 were big too, right? And so on and so forth. The answers keep changing. But the memories stay preserved.

But try to deny the fact that if “Oops I did it again” came on the radio you’d start bopping your head and singing along with that silly pop princess and you’ll find you can’t! Even if now, as a fully self-actualized person (Carl Jung spinning in his grave?) you’ve found “yourself” and can’t identify with the person you were earlier, you can’t forget him/her. I spent an entire glorious afternoon listening to the big hits of the 90s (Backstreet Boys, Boyz II Men, Bon Jovi, etc) and the memories uprooted were well worth the abuse my ears took (well, I do like BBB… but…)!

A song is nothing but an auditory stimulus which triggers of feelings experienced during a certain period in your life. So what is your favourite song? A silly song like “In the Shadows” which you and your friend played on loop and danced to an entire night? (Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never done that!) The first song you learnt to play on your guitar? The song your mom used to sing to you when you were a baby? (Yes, Yellow Submarine will be forever imprinted in my memory bank thanks to her) The first cover your band did or, your boy friend’s favourite song?

It’s a complicated question and a trip (if I may be so clichéd to say) down memory lane. The other day, for example, my iTunes played “Only Hope” by Switchfoot and I was flooded with memories from the summer of 2005 when I was going through my Langdon Carter phase. Nostalgia’s a good thing. Memories are better. If not to cry over, to laugh at. To see how much we’ve changed. Signposts, if you will. And songs mark these signposts! Every step, every phase. You may HATE Boyzone now, and burn that poster you have of those pretty boys, but you can’t deny that part of your past, and therefore you may as well save that poster. If anything, it can be used to educate your kids against the evils of boy-bands.

-Avantika Agarwal