Posted on by Lily

I’m Still Remembering

A long time ago, you could have found me dressed in all black, wearing too much eyeliner, mussed hair, drifting off into a daydream when I should have been paying attention in class.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t that long ago, maybe it was as recent as last week, but nevertheless I’d like to take you on a trip down memory lane into high school and its peripheral years, the 90s.  And maybe the first year or two of the current millennium.  

When I heard of Dolores O’Riordan’s passing yesterday, I simultaneously heard the very inimitable sound of her voice and her music.  It’s a sound that begs you to reminisce.  Being that girl dressed in all black in my teens, I spent most of my time staring off into space and writing poetry when I should have been listening to teachers’ lectures in high school.  I’d walk home two and a half miles in the ropy rain, heavy eyeliner running in rivulets down my face, headphones in, drowning out the world while my Walkman blared The Cure, Tori Amos, Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, or occasionally The Cranberries.  I was a sight to behold, like a character out of a Neil Gaiman book or a Tim Burton movie.

Almost more than any of the other aforementioned bands, The Cranberries are a sonic snapshot in time.  Unlike the other bands, I didn’t listen to The Cranberries as much.  I wasn’t as obsessed with The Cranberries as I was with Tori or NIN.  As for The Cure and Depeche Mode, their albums practically had a hand in raising me.  With The Cranberries, however, I usually pressed play when I was in a very particular pensive mood.  Good mood or bad, happy or sad.  But always pensive.  The mercury reading had to be just right.  Now, it’s suffice to say that I was often in this mood.  I still am.  The Cranberries just paired well with these versions of a very specific temperament, like a good Malbec with an aged cheddar.  Sometimes I was feeling sad, sometimes romantic, sometimes lost — sometimes I just wanted to roll the car windows down, turn up the music, and feel the air blowing against my skin.  But always pensive.

And sometimes I needed to mourn, lost love especially during these years.  My requiem of choice was The Cranberries’ “Disappointment.”  Its words, written nearly a quarter of a century ago, still relevant today.  “But it won’t get any harder, and I hope you’ll find your way again.”  It still quenches that melancholic thirst.  Back then, it was almost always on cassette, because that’s how long ago it was.  Back then, along with other female artists like Tori Amos, Bjork, and Kate Bush, The Cranberries saw me through my transition from young girl to womanhood, and all the experiences and implications that came along with it.  The score for this rite of passage?  The Cranberries’ 1994 album, “No Need to Argue.”

The Cranberries were roller-skating parties.  They were first loves and first kisses.  They were sneaking out late at night.  The Cranberries were running with your girlfriends through cemeteries at the stroke of midnight.  They were teary drunken nights.  Walking home in the rain, staring off into space during trigonometry.  They were pen pals, they were getting your license and driving across state lines to hang out with friends you met on the internet.  They were breakups, and driving home from those breakups.  They were open mics and gigging at bars with your cover band.  They were every side job you had before you landed your real job.

The Cranberries were pensive thoughts, which also seem to be a thing of my youth.  Whenever I listen to The Cranberries in this lifetime, I am reminded of a different life and time.  Their sound, never to be recreated, is a reminder of all the things that have died long before Dolores’ passing.  I grasp for these things sometimes, trying to discern what has stayed with me over time and what has gone away.  And the truth is that most of it is fossilized, in shoeboxes filled with photos and other time capsules; recorded in musty memories and mix tapes.

27 Replies to “I’m Still Remembering”

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