The first things that she took from me were selfishness and sleep
She broke a thousand heirlooms I was never meant to keep
She filled my life with color, canceled plans and trashed my car
But none of that is ever who we are
(from “The Mother” by Brandi Carlile)
If there is an experience that is really worth spending the infamous English expression on life-changing, this is becoming a parent. It is such a prevaricating and brutal change, which involves so many spheres, which brings into play so many feelings and instincts, that it is difficult to get an idea of it without going through it. So much so that when a parent tries to make himself understood on the issue by those who are not yet (or never will be) he will certainly obtain tacit nods of assent, but rarely an authentic and sincere understanding. I myself have often pretended to understand, then saying to myself “but what could it be… but how long are they taking it…”.
Then it happened to me twice in the space of a pandemic – okay, maybe we exaggerated – and the world collapsed around me. A world of stolen personal space, sleep deprivation, drooled sweaters, mustard-colored poop, doubts, fears, a petrifying sense of responsibility, an animalistic instinct for protection, smiles capable of illuminating even the darkest moment. Love like I've never felt before.
It goes without saying that today I can also fully understand why becoming parents has inspired so many authors, without barriers of musical genre, era or generation. Because, quite simply, it is an experience that literally changes everything.
This collection of twenty songs of mine, which could have lasted two hundred, begins with what is probably the most famous song ever dedicated to a daughter, namely “Isn't She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder. Immediately followed by the one that David Bowie dedicated to his child, “Kooks”, and by other more or less classic songs ranging from John Martyn to Paul Simon, from Ben Folds to Brandi Carlile. All united by that unstoppable mix of joy and disorientation that the little newcomers bring with them.
Then there are those who, like little Blue Ivy, have two famous parents and so here she is celebrated and championed by both Beyoncé and Jay Z. Staying on the field blackyou will find the wonderful “To Zion” included by Lauryn Hill in her masterpiece and deliciously spiced by Carlos Santana's arpeggios; while instead it's up to ex-Maccabees Orlando Weeks to paint like an impressionist a new, muffled everyday life made up of little cries and breath of milk (“Milk Breath”).
The amount of darkening tiredness and bags under the eyes is represented by that joker Kurt Vile, who seems to sing his “Too Hard” sprawled on the sofa and devoid of energy after an intense day of changing diapers and rocking. “My Son Cool” by Guided By Voices, with Robert Pollard pumping, is full of a completely different energy riffoni and interpret the figure of the rock star dad in a great way.
Most of the emotions of becoming parents are difficult to translate into words and more than a written sheet they resemble a carousel of fireworks, or the psychedelic electronica of “My Girls” by Animal Collective, dedicated by Noah Lennox to his wife and daughter and the whirlwind of emotions that seeing them together causes him. “Holly Up On Poppy” by
For many new parents, perhaps for all, it is inevitable to approach the new role by dealing with one's own, as parents. It happens to Kanye West in “Only One”, dedicated to little Nori but sung from the point of view of her grandmother Donda who recently passed away. In short, the usual psychiatric study case, but as often happens to him, brilliant. And then there are Paul McCartney's moans, which alone would be worth the price of admission.
We are approaching the end of the playlist with “Mouths Cradle”, an imaginative song about breastfeeding and motherhood by Bjork, and “Sail To The Moon”, a very sweet but restless lullaby dedicated by Thom Yorke to his Noah in the company of the other Radioheads.
The series ends with four songs that give rise to the worst nightmares of every new parent: the fear of not being up to the role, the fear of not being able to guarantee a dignified life for one's little ones and, obviously, the fear of surviving one's offspring. Very different, but equally poignant, “Tears In Heaven” by Eric Clapton and “Ghosteen” by Nick Cave are two painful elaborations of an inextinguishable mourning; while “June” by Idles sees the standard bearer of the new post-punk Joe Talbot recalling the terrible experience he had when his wife gave birth to a dead baby (the refrain “Baby shoes for sale, never worn” is truly the most exhausting thing I have ever sung) and the most famous “Little Green” shows us Joni Mitchell struggling with the tragic decision, made in conditions of extreme poverty, to give her daughter up for adoption.
Antonio Santini for SANREMO.FM
