What defines home? The general description of a home encompasses the physical structure, made of lumber or brick or other such materials to shelter one from the harsh elements. But home is so much more than that. Home is subjective; It is – in large part – feelings of security, stability, comfort, and love. You can stay in any one building long enough and start to become attached. Case in point: how many hours do a lot of you readers spend in an office building? Chances are that you wouldn’t jump at the chance to define your office as “home”, but I’m willing to bet that the cumulative hours spent there have embedded feelings of familiarity that feel very much like home. That one coffee machine that sputters at the end of a brew cycle, that fluorescent bulb that facilities keeps forgetting to fix, the conference table at which you might have pitched some of your best (and worst) ideas…I’m almost certain that these memories will all stick with you subconsciously, so much so that when you eventually leave that job, you might just sigh with longing as you push through the revolving doors of the marble lobby one last time.
There are, of course, lived experiences that assist in defining home, sure. Objects such as photographs on the walls or your favorite flower vase are ways we can express ourselves in our physical space. But think of the smells of home; Think of the sounds. For me, I know I’m home when I can smell my mother’s skin during a hug, or when I can hear my dad mowing his lawn, infusing the surrounding air with a cacophony of the roaring motor and the intoxicating (at least to me) fragrance of diesel and grass. I can be anywhere and hear, smell, see, taste or touch something that can evoke feelings of home. We associate different sensory triggers with these feelings that transport us, and the same goes for songs. There are some songs that I absolutely loathe because I associate them with a certain place and time in my life, and/or a person I no longer speak to (now is the time where I sarcastically thank an ex of mine for ruining the 1999 smash hit “Smooth” by Santana & Rob Thomas for me forever). I’ll always associate “Screaming Infidelities” by Dashboard Confessional with the longest bus ride of my life that consistently smelled like stale farts and rubber.
Conversely, I get choked up every time I hear “I Love You Always Forever” by Donna Lewis, a song I used to sing to my sister when she was two years old. I remember fawning over her in her carseat, sitting in Sunday traffic on our way back from the Catskills, crooning to her about how she had the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. I’m simultaneously irritated and comforted whenever I hear my mom say “Alexa, play John Mayer” (a phrase she utters almost daily, where on occasion she requests Jack Johnson instead). Whenever I hear “Daughters”, her face instantly pops into my mind. I’m tickled remembering late night pilgrimages to Wawa with my friend Lizz, – acting out the Jack Black and Kyle Gas parts, respectively – singing the incredibly silly Tenacious D rock opera “City Hall”; And on days when my best friend Lily picks me up in her car, you’d better believe she has already queued up “Best Friend” By Saweetie featuring Doja Cat to play at least twice.
The one standout musical memory for me that most encompasses the feeling of home is Christmas of 2002. I had asked for some bullshit CD for Christmas, and was surprised when I unwrapped my gifts to see a pile of Beatles CD’s. What was this old man music doing in my stocking? As it turns out, my dad seized the opportunity to beef up my foundational music education right then and there, giving me one of the greatest gifts I would ever have the honor of receiving. We went through album to album, from Abbey Road to The White Album to Rubber Soul. Landing on Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, my dad played me track 6, “She’s Leaving Home”, a song about a young girl who escapes the control of her parents, leaving only a note. The song described their lament and confusion:
we gave her most of our lives
sacrificed most of our lives
we gave her everything money could buy
Ultimately, she craved a life that money couldn’t buy and the fulfillment that her parents couldn’t provide. At that moment, my dad expressed to me that he never wanted me to feel that way about him and my mother, and that he tries his best to make sure I feel loved, secure, and fulfilled. Thinking of that moment now brings tears to my eyes. That expression of love and concern was more of a measure of home than any building or high thread count linen could ever provide. And that is a beautiful thing.
Now I share with you songs that remind me of home, both the physical structure(s) and the emotional states. Wishing you a happy and healthy holiday season no matter what you celebrate, or where you call home.
Nicole is Sr. Manager, New Release Content at Warner Music Group. She lives in Jersey City, NJ and loves Oreos, puppies, and the smell of laundry.
