Music IS The Food of Love..And Memory
It’s one of those joys in life that can also be a tremendous tool for creative writing.
Have you ever listened to a piece of music and were transported directly back to the exact moment that you first heard it? As a tool for memoir writing, creative non-fiction and even fiction writing, music is essential for getting deep into a story and pulling out all of the small details that make it sparkle.
The night before my mother died, we gathered around her bed as a family. We ate chocolates, we drank champagne, and we danced. It wasn’t a somber farewell but a celebration, soundtracked by the music she loved. These were songs she hummed to herself, or sang to the radio while bustling around the house tidying, cooking, gardening, or on those rare occasions when she actually relaxed.
She worked hard, my mum - not just at home but also in her full time role managing the family business.
The day after she died, the funeral director gave me wise advice - whatever music you choose for the funeral, you will never be able to listen to it again and not be taken back to that moment.
Even now, more than a decade later, I can’t listen to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon without crying. Maybe one day I’ll be able to. But not yet.
The Songs That Take Me Back
As my parents aged, music became part of their every day routine. The walls were thin and my bedroom sidled theirs. At night I’d hear hours of Willie Nelson, Irish singer Mary Black, followed by the dulcet tones of pan pipes, easing them into their sleep.
Music is more than just sound. It’s a time machine. It transports us back to the most precious moments of our lives—sometimes with sorrow, but more often with joy.
Fun fact: More music is released in a single day than was released in the entire year of 1989. That’s according to this report from MusicRadar, who spoke with a former exec at Spotify.
1972: Calypso in the Living Room
I’m five years old, peeking down the stairs long past bedtime, lured by raucous laughter. My parents are throwing a party. And not just any party—this is full-blown costume chaos. My mom is dressed as Barbara Eden from I Dream of Jeannie (complete with harem pants and a ponytail), while my dad, ever the showman, is shirtless in an Aladdin outfit, rocking the burgandy Fez he wears to his Shriner’s meetings.
And despite their pseudo-Middle Eastern getups, they’re dancing to calypso music from Trinidad. The Mighty Sparrow’s Short Little Shorts and Calypso Twist blare from the record player.
Why calypso? Because of my dad’s best friend from university, who came to Canada from Trinidad. My parents visited him in 1963 for Carnival, leaving four kids behind (who they left them with remains a mystery). It was a trip that seemed to heal a rift in their marriage. The black-and-white photos from that time were like family gold—my dad in a white tux, my mom in a sparkling dress with bright red lipstick. When they transferred the Super 8 footage to VHS, they added The Mighty Sparrow as the soundtrack. To this day, those songs remind me of love, friendship, and the unspoken memories of a time when life seemed simpler.
Fast forward to 2021. My dad and his friend, now both in their 90s and bedridden, reunited over Zoom during COVID. They could barely hear each other, but they cried and laughed as best they could. The Mighty Sparrow played in the background, bridging decades and distance.
1983: Thriller
December 2, 1983. I’m 15 years old, huddled by the TV, holding the long cord of our kitchen phone so I can narrate this historic moment to my friend. At precisely 4 PM EST, the world premieres Thriller.
MTV had only been around for a couple of years, and we had never seen anything like this. Fourteen minutes of cinematic magic. Zombies, werewolves, red leather jackets—this wasn’t just a music video; it was a cultural earthquake. My friends and I spent the next week dissecting every detail: Was Michael Jackson dating the girl in the video? How much did that jacket cost? Could we actually learn the dance moves? (Spoiler: I never did.)
Thriller is still the best-selling album of all time, and every time I hear it, I’m 15 again. It’s the soundtrack of teenage obsession, pop culture awakening, and that intoxicating feeling of being part of something huge.
Christmas Mornings & The Pogues
My family isn’t big on holiday traditions—mostly because my son and husband aren’t exactly festive types. But there’s one ritual we never skip.
Every Christmas morning, the first person awake has to make coffee for the rest of us. Only then can we press play on the song. And no, it’s not Silent Night or Jingle Bells. It’s Fairytale of New York by The Pogues.
If you’ve never heard it, be warned: it’s an Irish folk-punk anthem about a drunken couple hurling insults at each other. (Yes, it’s a Christmas song. The Brits love it. So do we.)
We have played and danced to this song on a Christmas morning for over 20 years and in wildly different settings:
Like the year we were in India when my son was four; a snowy morning in Wales with my mother-in-law in a Welsh cottage with thick stone walls and a 24 hour fire in the hearth; or just the three of us, home in California, with our cat hiding under the sofa, confused that we were disturbing his peace. The song comes with us, no matter where we physically are.
The lyrics are messy, the melody is chaotic, but for me, Fairytale of New York is Christmas. It’s love, laughter, and home, wherever that may be.
The Magic of Music
Science backs this up—music helps us tap into our deepest memories. A study from USC found that music can help neurodegenerative patients regain their sense of self. That’s the power of a song.
So here’s my challenge for you: Find a song you haven’t listened to in years.
Press play.
Close your eyes.
What do you see? Who is with you? What do you feel?
Give thanks for music. For the time travel. For the stories it lets us relive.
And in the words of ABBA—because, of course, ABBA—
Thank you for the music, the songs I’m singing.
Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing.
Who can live without it? I ask in all honesty…
What song brings back a memory for you? Tell me in the comments! Music is a great tool for writing your own personal memoirs or sparking memories of elder ancestors who may tell your family stories.