There are some albums I might listen to more often, even some I might like a little better, and then there are albums that have changed my life. Touched me in ways I can't really describe although that's what I'm attempting to do right here. These albums are like time machines. When I listen I'm taken back in time to that first time I heard them. Really heard them. Sometimes I've heard the album before in a superficial way but after a few more listens the songs become a part of me and I can't imagine a time when I didn't know these tunes by heart. Bob Mould's first solo album, Workbook, is on that short list of special albums. While it came it out in 1989 it took me until January 14, 1998 to discover it. For that discovery I'm forever grateful to one of my best friends in the entire universe, Lizzz.
Please pardon the subsequent emo-ness of this post but this album is very much tied to a particular event in my life. The night prior to my purchase of this cd I broke up with my girlfriend of nearly 5 and half years. Let's call her Clock Girl. CG for short, but she won't really show up much since this is mostly about me and Bob. And Lizzz. And Liz. Actually had the break up not occurred it would have been exactly 5 years and 5 months to the day that I had professed my feelings to CG. What can I say, I may not be good at math but dates tend to stick with me. Not to take things away from Bob Mould, but for a lowdown of what exactly happened this Shins tune offers a much more poetic summary than I could construct.
During this time it wasn't unusual for me to see Lizzz on her walk to where we both worked somewhere along Morewood Avenue, sometimes in the vicinity of the Cricket. It was a great way to start the day to share the last few minutes of my commute with her but on this day I couldn't rely on coincidence, so I arrived early, and much like a stalker or private detective waited outside her house for her to leave for work. While waited I rocked out to a little Queensryche, a prior melancholy, heartbreak favorite. Tracks 11 and on were particularly helpful for these situations. Perhaps it was this tune, or maybe the fact that I was waiting at her doorstep that she knew something was up.
I explained the situation and as expected she responded with exactly what I needed: a shoulder to cry on and the right amount of humor and sympathy. As we were about to head off to our respective offices she told me about a similar situation in her life and how Bob Mould's Workbook got her through the rough spot. I believe her exact words were, "It will help."
I knew this wasn't a casual recommendation so I needed to have this album soon. As soon as they were open I placed a call to the nearby Record Exchange. Things were coming up Milhouse. They had the album on cd and put it aside for me for a lunchtime purchase. Sadly it is an album that's relatively easy to find used. Every time I see a copy I'm tempted to buy it much the way I want to adopt every shelter dog or cat. And albums like this need a loving home. After completing the transaction on my drive back to work I followed Lizzz's advice and skipped ahead to track number 2,"Wishing Well."
Now I knew what she meant about it helping.
Bob's vibrant guitar and echoing voice were just what I needed. After the solo there's a line that stood out then, and continues to give me chills even after hundreds of listens.
There's a price to pay for a wish to come true, trade a small piece of your life.
I'm in my first car, a burgundy Nissan Altima, driving down Forbes. Stopped at the red light of the intersection with Murray like always. I never get that light. It's unseasonably warm sunny for mid-January and I'm beginning to think that things just might turn out alright.
I did something I hardly ever do, particularly with a new album, which is play a song again after listening to it. That's how much I connected with "Wishing Well" on first listen. And once I was back at work I called Lizzz to thank her. And even if I don't say it, I thank her every time I listen to this album.
end of part 1
