This is where this particular story starts: I was listening to my iPod, and I had set it to shuffle.

I don’t necessarily like the shuffle function. I resort to it. Some folks enjoy the surprise of what’s coming next; I simply cannot choose one band over another.

I have about eleven gigs of music, and I find the variety paralyzing. Finally, I’ll choose one of the three artists that I always choose, and disgust myself with my own predictability. It’s a small, silent drama that gets played out to an audience of just one, and I prefer to skip it. So I shuffle.

The particular sequence of “random” songs I am about to relate seemed to tell a unique story. As I listened to it, I became absolutely positive that not only had my iPod gained some sort of terrifying self-awareness, but that it was playing tricks on me.

Or, here’s a simpler, more arrogant explanation: the universe was sending me a message, because I’m so important and handsome. Either way, this particular sequence of songs reminded me more than anything of the night I met a guy that I will refer to as Rafferty.

And so the story turned into a music retrospective, and an odyssey of me and Rafferty. It’s sad, creepy, and beautiful. Enjoy.

Brighton Rock (5:09) – Queen

I was ambushed. Expecting the standard lyrical, pop-genius that Queen has always provided, I was literally punched in my rat-eating face when the happy carnival intro morphed into complex progressions, power chords, and a guitar solo that would probably cause Mother Teresa to fling her bra onto the stage.

Freddie Mercury does his thing as well as ever, which makes this song evidence that he could also have been a great front man for Judas Priest. This is a song from my past that made a startling, happy reappearance; it would also be a fantastic tune to burn down a building to.

And so it goes that it was a summer between college semesters. I had ended up at a party, tagging along with a friend. And at this same party, I met this guy I had known from the third grade. I met Rafferty. And Rafferty had changed.

A lot.

Gone were the glasses, the tucked-in polo shirt, the short stature that had forced him to squint up at people. Present-day Rafferty had shoulder-length stoner hair. He seemed like the kind of guy that solved the problem of boredom by going out with a bat to set off car alarms. Apparently, he had been living on a diet of vodka and bovine growth hormone. He was huge, lively, cheerful, visibly wasted, and urging me to much of the same. I had an old new friend, and he was about to rock my face off.

Hey Mama (4:20) – Kanye West

When Kanye West forgets about how wonderful Kanye West feels Kanye West is, he really is one of the greats. And this song is a perfect example: Read More »