The time to come clean has arrived. What I’m about to tell you will shock and perhaps appall you. Some of you will ridicule me mercilessly for this weakness. Others of you will promptly dismiss everything I ever say about music again. But I have to get this off my chest.
I’ve already told the people closest to me and after the initial shock they have chosen to ignore this momentary lapse in judgement. Well, except for my BFK, because she’s still emotionally scarred from that time I bitched endlessly when she made me go see Train.
Here it goes: I love the song “Hey Soul Sister” by Train.
I said it, and I don’t regret it. I won’t apologize.
The heart wants what it wants and I have no more ability to control my adoration of this song than I do the tides. I’m fully aware that I am one of the few people on the planet (aside from all the advertisers) who loves this song.
I love “Hey Soul Sister” because in eighth grade I sat behind Derek Broten. He was a short, floppy-haired skater who was the nephew of an NHL legend and I was a 6’2″ girl who cataloged her Sweet Valley High books in a notebook with aqua-colored paper.
It was English class. He was first in the row and I was second. We must have been seated alphabetically because usually I was shoved in the back corner so I wasn’t blocking anyone’s view of the board. Derek was a talker, and so was I, when spoken to.
At least three times every class Mrs. Weingarten would tell Derek to turn around and be quiet. But this didn’t often stop him. He was a surreptitious side of the mouth talker. I cannot remember what we talked about all the time, probably how much The Hobbit sucked.
My friend Lori Cantele liked Derek Broten. I don’t think she was in our English class. But if she was, that throws my alphabetical seating theory out the window. She and I would spend many many hours on the phone dissecting all of Derek’s utterings. One weekend, Lori spent the night at my house and convinced me to look up Derek’s phone number and call him.
And I totally did!
This was out of character (and still is) for me. I called him up and we talked about how he was making macaroni and cheese and the song Kyrie by Mr. Mister. It was literally playing on the radio as we spoke.
I fell for the Train song the moment I heard it. Only I didn’t know it was a Train song, because I heard it watching an 8-year-old kid with a ukelele sing it. It wasn’t until I started to hear the song on all the commercials and began to ask people who the song was by that I discovered it was by Train. That was, incidentally, the exact same time I realized people despised the song.
But I don’t care. I love that song because it reminds me of talking to a cute boy in English class, hating The Hobbit, and being the kind of brave girl who would call a boy on the phone.