Five on Friday: Songs that taught me to survive

I was recently watching a television show and a character shared some interesting information about our survival instincts. I won't bore you with the word-for-word, but the gist was that when we are facing death, our brain goes into a really fierce self-preservation mode that we can't otherwise connect with in regular circumstances.

This may be some screenwriter waxing philosophical, sure, and I'm not going to do the research to back it up, but it did make me think about music. Often, life's questions are more easily answered for me when I can relate them to music in some way. Maybe it is writing a song that helps me figure things out, or putting on a record, that sort of thing.

Here are five songs that have helped me survive to the ripe old age of however fucking old I am.

Age is just a number, and today, that number is five.

'If You Could Read My Mind' by Gordon Lightfoot.

Years ago, I had a break during classes I was teaching, and went to a nearby Walmart. I was out in the Apache Junction area and just kind of wandering around the store. I always liked checking out the $5 CD bin, so I was tossing one CD after another to a different part of the pile, and I wound up uncovering The Best of Gordon Lightfoot. Ten of Gord's best tracks, and when I would put them in my CD player, it often wouldn't leave for weeks. "If You Could Read My Mind," in particular, became a go-to track for me when I needed to pick myself up and dust myself off. I don't know how many times I have sung along with this song with tears on my cheeks. The lyrics and melody are simply perfect, and even though the song makes me cry sometimes, it also helps me stop and absorb whatever uncomfortable feelings I'm having in a way that helps me breathe.

'Ex Lion Tamer' by Wire.

The sound of the guitars in "Ex Lion Tamer" makes me feel invincible. Truly. It's probably dangerous, on some level, but when I hear this song, I feel like I can do anything. Well, almost anything. When The Father Figures were just getting started, and we didn't have any songs, we jammed on some covers that each of us liked. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get singing and playing this one down, so no one ever got to hear us do a cover of it. Henry Rollins did a fine job of it on his Henrietta Collins record, anyway.

'Love Vigilantes' by New Order.

I stole a cassette copy of Low-Life from Tower Records in 1985. I was pretty into New Order in those days, and this one knocked me out from day one. The lyrics are just so damn good. It's like comfort food for the ears to me. I know when it comes to the band, it's not a favorite of many music critics, but seriously, what the fuck do music critics know? Not much, really, because music to one person's ears is total crap to another, and neither of them is wrong. When I'm feeling sentimental, a little sad, or whatever, I love hearing this song. It reminds me of being a 15-year-old petty thief with a penchant for stolen cassettes.

'Mad World' by Tears for Fears.

If you can't identify with "Mad World" on some level, you probably had an idyllic adolescence. I did not have anything close to an idyllic adolescence, so the notion of feeling like you are "run(ning) in circles" strikes a chord with me. "Mad World" also reminds me of being that fifteen-year-old again, this time I'm walking through the darkness of the teen dance club, Tommy's, on Camelback in Phoenix, looking for someone who will smile at me, maybe ask me to dance (I am shy), and just be kind. Even today, I can still get easily swept up in the beauty of "Mad World." Such a great and powerful song.

"Smalltown Boy" by Bronski Beat.

This one has also been a favorite of mine for over 40 years. I don't remember who told me about Bronski Beat or if I saw the video for "Smalltown Boy" on MTV, but I was instantly drawn to them. I was confused as a teenager, often called a "fag" because of the way I dressed and my penchant for black eyeliner, and when I heard Bronski Beat, part of me identified with the pain in Jimmy Somerville's voice. I felt accepted by the music, even if I didn't share the band's sexual identity. I also thought, and still think, the strength in "Smalltown Boy" was admirable, especially when the protagonist was facing rejection, fear, and a total lack of even an attempt at understanding. If Bronski Beat could put themselves out there like this, then I could certainly be myself, as well, because I wasn't facing anything close to the same level of scrutiny or prejudice.