Hey Carol.
Hey Evan.
and we keep on walking.
But when i get a phone call from, let's say, Chris, it's always:
Yo dude.
Hey man.
... no names are said.
So the last few days, while immersed in conversation, i've stayed especially alert, listening intently to hear if my name is spoken. If my friends think i've suddenly become a better listener, they're right. But for selfish reasons.
Weird, selfish reasons.
This all started out of curiosity. Stemming from someone calling me 'Ev', i started wondering if others do the same without my knowledge. Then it occurred to me that i couldn't imagine any of my friends saying my name. Acquaintances, yes. Friends, no. Then this attentive listening began.
i've been through this mental torture before, but i've never actually stopped to examine why i do it. Well now i get it. i see the 'why'.
Ultimately, past the curiosity, past the nicknames, past the slight mental obsession, lies unsettled waves of self-consciousness. How people say my name, not that there's a particularly large number of variations on 'Evan', but it's a way of glimpsing how they see me. This focus on what it sounds like when 'Evan' comes out of the mouths of friends and strangers and acquaintances and family folks is a focus on what i am in their minds. Hearing them say my name, i guess, is a small, subtle, but definite indication of what i am to them.
The context changes, a pissed off 'Evan' is drastically different than a sympathetic 'Evan', but the ease with which my name is said tells a lot about how often it is said, or thought, or pined for.
Rarely is it pined for.
Hearing my name, let's me glimpse a part of me as observed from a part of you.
And i like that.
'Northern Lights'.
The 6th track on the Bowerbirds sophomore release, 'Upper Air', found in the dead center of this great LP. One of my favorites of the last year.
It starts calm, catchy, but nothing particularly special. It has just enough appeal, however, to keep you from hitting 'next' on the i-pod/walkman/car-stereo/i-tunes/etc.
35 seconds in, it hits you. You hear something different, and it hooks you in. The piano keys dance freely around the persistent guitar strums, all the while the drums try harder and harder to make themselves known.
2 minutes in, they join forces. Led by Phil Moore's vocals, the instruments begin to march together, stronger, to a concrete goal. The hope swells. Smiles spread and heads nod in tune without their permission.
It's the perfect song for the end of a movie. Where what seemed like a down ending turns to a realistically optimistic fade-out-finish.
The song ends, the credits roll, and you're left with a few moments of silence before the next track starts. These few moments are the point in the mental focusing act when i finally hear Chris answer the phone:
Hey Evan.
And despite the time of day, weather conditions, or surrounding events, we the listeners catch a glimpse of something we didn't see before. A wider field of vision that resets the day's clock right there, even if it's moments before sleep.
So check out this album, play it start to finish, let the grins flow and shoulders shrug contently, and listen for your name.
...oh, hey evan...
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