My self-imposed ban on repeating songs that I chose in the original (June 2011) version of this Challenge is making it more and more difficult every day to match the perfect song to this month’s prompts. My first choice for “a song that could have been written about my life” would have been The Rolling Stones’ “Beast of Burden,” but I chose it for Day One of the 2011 Challenge. My second choice, Solomon Burke’s “That’s How I Got to Memphis,” was also off-limits, since I used that one for Day 30 of the same Challenge. In fact, one of the prompts in the original Challenge was “a song that describes you” (Day 15), which is not exactly the same as “a song that could have been written about your life” but it’s pretty close, so that knocked out even another possible pick for today. With the extra “no repeats” restriction, today is an especially tough one.
There’s something a tad morbid, I think, about picking a song that could have been written about your life given that, if you’re the one picking the song, that means your life isn’t over yet. Of course, none of us know exactly how many chapters we have remaining to be written about us, but I’d wager that we’re all reticent to say what the story is ultimately about before the last of it has been penned. I’ve probably passed the halfway point in my life at this point so, even if there is a major plot-twist still to come, the basic contours of the protagonist’s character have been drawn and the core of the story is already in place, I suspect. I’m too much of a Sartrean to say that “people can’t/don’t change” given that the two fundamental elements of human life are possibilities and choices. I’ve seen some pretty dramatic changes in people. And I’m enough of a Derridean to know better than to underestimate the à venir. But I also know it’s a rarity when people do change in some truly fundamental way– that is, when they not only choose new projects for themselves that redefine who they are, but also undertake those projects in a way that does not retain much of who they were before. Today, I picked a song that seems to me like one that will hold up as a “song that could have been written about my life” regardless of what else is still to come, assuming I don’t join a convent or become an ascetic.
And I’m pretty confident that ain’t happening.
My pick is “Take It To The Limit” by the Eagles. This song was co-written and originally sung by bassist Randy Meisner, who allegedly never really liked to sing it (and who left the band after 1977). Here’s one of Meisner’s last live performances of “Take It To The Limit”:
I think I’d describe my life, with a little guilt but without much reservation, as certifiably reckless and imprudent. Or dauntless and adventuresome, if we want to put a positive spin on it. Either way, I’ve never been very measured about my choices or activities, my likes or dislikes, my loves, my friends, my work, my commitments or opinions, and neither so about my virtues and vices. I stay up too late, I work and party too hard, I love and trust too indiscriminately, I am too enamored with risk. I am and have always been an all-in kind of girl. Go big or go home. Those tendencies have inclined me to take it to the limit, and very often past the limit, with most things in my life. The thing about taking it to the limit is that it makes for equal parts epic successes and dismal failures, but it almost always makes for a good story.
For better or worse, I want to die with the most good stories. In the immortal words of Oscar Wilde: “Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess.”
One of the things I’ve always loved about this song, which is ultimately a love-song to excess, is that it begins with someone “all alone at the end of an evening.” My guess is that many people find that sort of sad, but I never have. I’ve been all alone at the end of an evening of excess plenty of times in my life, and they’ve been not only some of the most ruminative, but also some of the happiest, nights of my life. That’s the kind of happiness that doesn’t require an audience or a confirmation, but just some time to reflect, to soak it in, to watch the bright light fade into blue, to think about someone who might love you who you never knew, maybe also to rehydrate it and sober it up a little, but mostly just to be there, alive and still living, in the moment.
I initially chose this song for its overall message but, upon re-listening, I realized that there’s a lot more in the lyrics that hits home than I remembered. You know I’ve always been a dreamer. (Check.) Spent my life running ’round. (Check.) You know it’s so hard to change. (Check.) Can’t seem to settle down. (Check.) But the dreams I’ve seen lately keep on turnin’ out, and burnin’ out, and turnin’ out the same.
Don’t know about that last line yet. The story’s not over.
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Nostalgic? Check out my entry for Day 20 of the 2011 version of the 30 Day Song Challenge.