By: Harrison Giza
When I was a kid my dad constantly played The Beatles. In the car, out of a boombox, and even when we were washing the dirt off his car. I instantly loved them, as any sane human should. The warm, quick hooks of “Day Tripper” paired with that undeniably cool riff sent my ears to another land. Few can mix and match and sound like The Beatles and even fewer bands can make as many memorable songs as they have made.
I owe Paul, John, Ringo, and my boy George an honest deal of respect. If not for their music, I would not have discovered so many of the other songs that exist. A great deal of pop culture lives in the band. They have influenced everyone from Radiohead to Frank Ocean. Hell, The Rolling Stones loved them so much they copied them (check out “Their Satanic Majesties Request).
One of my favorite Beatle songs isn’t even their own. Coming off their first UK album, “Twist and Shout” is what all good covers aspire to be – great. So great in fact, that when it came on the radio today, my life became a movie. For roughly two minutes and silver seconds, I was Ferris Bueller on top and in charge of Chicago. I was beyond happy dancing in the puddles of rush hour traffic.
I used to repeat and repeat and replay this song until my parents said it would give me brain damage. In college, it appeared when brain damage arose. A good friend of mine, a tall, beer-guzzling one, played this song a few times in his debris and Pabst Blue Ribbon dump of a garage. The first time it came on the speakers, I was bombarded with drunken noise. Men screamed, women smiled, and not a single foot was left untapped. Life became a movie for a second, slow motion and all.
However, this song is not all warm nostalgia and apple pie. I wholeheartedly believed “Twist and Shout” to be an original Beatles composition. So much so that I staked a crisp Abraham Lincoln during sixth grade recess on that exact falsity. Sadly, I was defeated by Wikipedia and quickly forced to surrender my sixteenth president to seventh grade hands.
The song has stuck with me through the years.
People listen to music each and everyday, but do we really keep track of the moments we’ve spent listening? I forget to check my mind’s permanent records. I had honestly forgotten each moment I have mentioned and cannot believe how much this piece of music has floated into my life.
I have come to realize that favorite songs aren’t just records but emotionally whole representations of our past and future.
When you listen you aren’t just giving your ears practice.
You are shaking up your existence in the universe.