Spotify might as well be crack cocaine. I may need rehab.
I was like a kid at Christmas when I finally received my official invite to the music subscription service that is taking America by storm (kind of like the cool kids asking you to sit at their table for lunch), but little did I know what it would do to me. Combined with my new Apple TV, my iPhone has become a virtual music store stocked with nearly every song known to man.
But with unlimited access to music utopia, guess what album I dialed up first?
Yep. Straight for the easy listening section. Sappy strings and melodramatic lyrics. I’m in baby. Hook, line, and white jumpsuit.
Yeah, yeah. I know. When you think of me, you think mogul. The cutting edge of culture and fashion. (Right?). What’s a trend setter like me doing driving around town with “Forever in Blue Jeans” streaming over his sound system?
By some (evil?) twist of fate, Neil Diamond was my first live concert. Early 80’s. Market Square Arena. My dad on one side. My mom on the other. A musical master-class on the stage.
Or was it?
The reason I love Neil Diamond has less to do with his music as what his music does to me. It takes me to a beautiful place. A simpler time. It fosters a feeling. It’s total nostalgia.
Somewhere in me is that little old lady who insists we only sing from the hymnal.
Memories are powerful. Important. Anchors to the past. But not necessarily great creators of the future.
The truth is, most of us move into tomorrow either desperately hanging onto our love of the past, or running from the pain it may have caused us. Both can hinder us from fully imagining what God has for today.
That’s a chance I don’t want to take.
So I’m off to spin a little Neil (yeah I know, there’s no spinning when it comes to playing music anymore). Maybe a little “Yesterday’s Songs.” It’s an OK place to visit, I’m just not buying a house there.