I've always loved things of the past. I don't know why, and to this day I can still pinpoint when I realized this. It was the summer before freshman year of high school, the summer of "Stranger Things" season 3.
I had spent the months-long break binging "Boy Meets World" and sneaking a spot on the couch whenever my older sister had "That '70s Show" playing on the TV. I had this nostalgia for a life I've never lived and soon realized others didn't.
The '80s aesthetic of "Stranger Things" was cool for a week, but by the time school started Hall and Oats wasn't exactly what my classmates were also listening to.
One day at school during homeroom icebreakers I was asked, "If you could listen to just one song before music was erased from the planet, what would it be?"
The question was nothing more than filler, I don't think I ever even spoke to the kid again, but I knew my answer immediately: "I'd Have You Any Time" by George Harrison.
The melodic folk love song co-written by Harrison and Bob Dylan is still one of my favorite tunes to this day. It's tied for first place with "Last Goodbye" by Jeff Buckley.
When it comes to music and life in general, I value honesty more than anything. Not honesty in the traditional moral sense, but the unabashed courage to speak emotions without fear.
I think that's why I find myself gravitating toward the past.
I've found a timeless connection with artists like Buckley, The Beatles and The Velvet Underground.
In high school, and still now, whenever I'm upset I play "Pale Blue Eyes" by The Velvet Underground.
There is something about the simple yet universal meaning of the song that brings me back to earth and grounds me. Love hurts now the way it has always has.
Above all, I guess that's the reason why I find myself attached to a time I've never lived.
Universal emotions don't begin and end with generations. When I think of the social climate of the 1960s, I imagine public turmoil. I can't help but wonder, is that how people will feel in the future when looking back at the 2020s?
Nothing in life is original and we are made up of all events that come before us, and some of those moments and people in time are gruesome. As a lover of all things old, but also as a modern woman of color, I know it can be hard to discover a piece of media and come to find the person who made it is actually awful.
When approaching old media, I almost never look up the life of a band or artist unless I'm obsessed. I like having that separation and understanding that the art is what I'm there for. When a piece of music is decades-old it keeps me at peace, knowing a lot of artists from the past aren't currently trending.
But, again, I play it by ear and if I find out information that taints the love I have for an artist, I can't ignore it.
Like I said, nothing is original. I look to the past for comfort but I also look at it as a cautionary tale. It's important to know the details and the voices that culminated to today. So listen to your grandparents and watch the news. Consume old books, movies and music.
Don't limit your worldview to the one in front of you, and remember to take your rose-colored glasses off when looking at the past while still holding out hope for the future.
Edited by Andrew Dirst, Abigail Beck, Tiya Talwar and Natalia Jarrett.
Reach the reporter at jagon128@asu.edu
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Jazlyn is a sophomore studying journalism and mass communication. This is her first semester with The State Press. She has also worked at Blaze Radio.
