recollections vol. 5
with the sovereign audite
recollections returns with a guest feature from Regina of the sovereign audite, a music discovery newsletter. in this personal essay, they take us back through two distinct decades that illustrate the intersections of their love for film and music.
sometimes, things just show up in your life and you’re grateful forever of it connecting with you in the first place. specifically, an artist that finds your hand in the dark and guides you to the light that you were searching for. the year is 2004. i’m a junior in high school and immersed in the throes of discovering indie singer-songwriters that ultimately enhanced my relationship with music — Elliott Smith, Ben Folds, Ryan Adams, Ben Kweller and other similar artists graced my ears in the mornings before my school day started and in the afternoons while working on homework assignments, even in bed before turning in for the night.
alongside these musical discoveries was also the exploration of films that were made before my existence was even a development of a thought. i usually have a little anecdote about how i came across a film that changed my life — which i have a few for some of them — but for this particular one, i have not a recollection of it. honestly, it made the discovery of this film more sentimental. released in 1967, The Graduate portrays the tale of a young person trying to find oneself. this could not have coincided with a better time in my life as a viewer.
for most high school students, junior year is the year where the pressures of going to college or other huge life decisions come into play (let’s be honest — the school to workplace pipeline begins the moment one enters the school system). the vulture-like tendencies from family, guidance counselors, and even fellow students alike spring out during this particular season, not making it an enjoyable time in the slightest, no matter what you decide to do. i can confidently say that it was not a season of my life that i look back on fondly.
The Graduate portrays the story of a young man named Benjamin Braddock, played by the legendary Dustin Hoffman. the film explores his journey of life post-college graduation and the experience of trying to figure out what it all means through various avenues, including physical intimacy, love, and getting older in general (whatever those truly meant to him).
i hadn’t experienced those first two avenues at that time in my life yet (well, in the sense of romantic love), but trying to face the fact that things will be changing for me soon, that was something i could connect to Benjamin with on a molecular level throughout watching the film. i distinctly remember sensing the tension in Benjamin’s face immediately from the opening shot of the movie, a close-up merging into a zoom-out of him sitting on a plane on his way home, not knowing what he is about to experience.
here is the moment where my life changed forever. following the first shot of the film, the next scene is a full minute-and-a-half long shot of Benjamin on an escalator to exit the airport. the shot lingers, Benjamin cast against a blank wall, no posters or advertisements as one usually sees. to me, it represented the blank slate that Benjamin possessed and a hope that he can fill by himself and him alone — to fight through all of the pressures that society expects of him, taking the reins to be where he truly wants to be in his own hands.
within this very scene, i heard a beautiful fluttering of flowery guitar picking followed by some of the most stunning vocal harmonies that i had ever heard in music. the song was by Simon & Garfunkel, a duo of musicians who were such pivotal and esteemed inspirations to my aforementioned ones.
i remember the breath in my throat slightly hitching as i heard these opening notes and harmonies of Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel in their song “The Sound of Silence” and i instantly needed more. luckily for me, they provided the songs for half of the film’s soundtrack, alongside instrumental score pieces by Dave Grusin. therefore, i got to experience more of their musical brilliance. the following week on a trip to what was my second home at the time (Best Buy), i wasn’t sure where to start with their discography and picked up Bridge Over Troubled Water.
unbeknownst to me at the time that i first listened to it, this was the final studio album from the magnetic duo. all of the tracks were beyond fantastic, but there was one in particular that really caught my ear and left me in a trance: “The Boxer”. i was mostly captivated by this song because of its exquisite storytelling through two different points of view.
the first three verses are in first-person perspective, highlighting the unfair criticism that Simon was facing at that particular time, coupled with the themes of loneliness and trying to find your place in the world. i can relate since i’ve spent a majority of my life alone. not in a “woe-is-me” sort of way, but admittedly it’s been the baseline of my existence.
the essence of life for me is finding the energy and comforts within myself, adjusting to new places and experiences. the fourth and final verse switches to the third-person and draws the most striking picture of the titular boxer that makes its only appearance in this verse:
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
it’s been almost twenty years since i picked up that album, and that verse sticks to my bones even more so now than when i first heard it. there’s so many stages of my life that i’ve had to process and mindsets i’ve had to unlearn, but i’m still willing to face the next day, even though i never know what it will bring me.
the simplistic, yet powerful musicality that flowed through this album left me in awe every moment i spent with it. the remarkable opening track “Bridge Over Troubled Water” beautifully portrays the idea of love and caring for someone. the vast and dynamic vocals of Art Garfunkel made me feel held and seen, as if he were singing directly to me.
other sensations are provoked throughout the album —“Cecilia” depicts Simon’s relationship with music (St. Cecilia being the patron saint of it) and the cyclical nature of creating it. singing of the frustration in being unable to create a song and the joy he feels once he can again. it accurately reflects the importance of my relationship with music and how it helps me.
looking closely, the song doesn’t convey the most compassionate lyrics, but the music surrounding them is so bright and grand that i find myself dancing around and excitedly singing every time i hit play on it, the energy of an enticing sing-a-long that’s hard to be denied.
at times when listening to their music, i wish that i was alive and old enough to experience this album and the incredible musical dynamic of Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel in real time. however, the beauty of music is that it will always be there to experience, and as a support to guide you — no matter where life takes you.
 | A guest post by
|