Wednesday, May 1, 2024

Valen-tapes

Love is analog. (Alesia Hebb photo)
Love is analog. (Alesia Hebb photo)

 

When there’s something you’ve been itching to tell somebody, just remember: somebody has said it better, and with musical accompaniment. Instead of reaching into the infinite number of ways to express your feelings, why not give your love a loaded disk?

“I make playlists for my friends all the time,” says Dalhousie student Keith MacIsaac, “but I’ve never considered giving one as a [romantic] gift.”

Are mix tapes a modern form of poetic expression, similar to what sonnets were once to courtship?

Mix tapes are a cheap way to share interests and spark conversation. The process of providing somebody special with a unique listening experience is a sure-fire way to establish some common ground.

Conversely, they serve as excellent warning signs.

“This guy in high school put a mix tape in my locker one Valentine’s Day,” says Chloe Edwards with a laugh. “I thought, ‘Oh, that’s cute, I guess.’ When I got home and listened to it, it was filled with My Bloody Valentine songs and obscure noise-rock. He filled a sheet of paper with dozens of other bands that I ‘need to get into.’ I had never spoken to him before.”

For all you would-be mix-tapers, always abide by the cardinal rule of the mix tape: don’t include that 30-minute experimental art-rock piece that you’ve been dying to get off your hard drive. No one is going to be thankful for you shoving your underground expertise down their throats. Keep your mix tapes relatively simple: include songs that they’re going to be humming and singing along to (because when they’re singing along, they’re singing along with you). Take some time with it. Create a flow, a mood; a first-rate mix tape is a soundtrack to the opening credits of the movie adaptation of your life.

While not quite as personal as a composing a Shakespearean epic, there’s still something timeless in sharing the songs that have made you who you are. Our lives are filled with a constant musical backdrop. Why not let somebody hear what you do?

 

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Mat Wilush
Mat Wilush
Mat Wilush once went to see Agent Orange on the outskirts of Toronto, where the beer was salty and drunken teenagers took turns sitting in a prop electric chair. The music had aged poorly. A mohawk’d middle-ager danced through the first couple songs, but quickly tired out. There just isn’t much room for surf rock in the world anymore. What next? Mat Wilush wants to know. Mat is the Gazette's Arts Editor. Follow him on Twitter at @wilushwho and email him at arts@dalgazette.com.
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