Songs From The Hill
Music is my internal metronome. During times of disjunction and displacement, when nothing but uncertainty stares back at me with its large, deep, black eyes, I find myself turning to music time after time. When feeling overwhelmed, the songs tell me to sink into my emotions and to give myself time to fully process everything. Music has always helped to remind me of all of the incredible (and sometimes not so incredible) things that I’ve endured on and off the hill that have made me into who I am today.
Not long ago I found myself left with an email telling me I had 3 hours to pack up my bags and move out of my tiny New Apt. And that was it. Like many other seniors, just half a semester shy of graduation, it felt as if a rug had been ripped out from underneath my feet. Like one of those aforementioned kinds of moments.
From the first chord to the last beat of a song, it seems that our ears manage to translate obscure sounds into familiar narratives. Because of this, I have playlists to wake up to, to fall asleep to, to cry to, and to dance to. One of my most prized playlists though is the one I’ve composed over these past 4 years of songs that I associate with Kenyon. When things started to crumble in March, I went to that playlist and sought solace in it. The chords warmed my ears and embraced me with endearing memories of this special little place.
Initially, I was going to just share this Kenyon playlist but realized that the playlist wouldn’t be complete without attaching memories and songs from the Kenyon community. Music tells a story, and even more so, it has the ability to tell our story. So I went around and asked students what songs have defined their Kenyon experience and why. What songs have kept them company as they’ve walked down Middle Path, as they’ve struggled to keep warm in February, as they’ve cried over a breakup, as they’ve sat alone in Peirce, and as they’ve studied late into the evening in Olin? When I had finished collecting these songs, I found that the memories from these people helped me to imagine that we’re really not as far away as it seems. And though we’re not there right now, from your stories I figured that a week on the hill right now would maybe even sound a little bit like this:
It’s Monday. It’s 2am and a freshman stands alone in the Horvitz darkroom playing “The Prince of the Hanging Gardens” by Beatenberg on repeat as he has been for hours now. He watches the faces of new friends, people he didn’t even know existed mere months ago, slowly appear before his eyes in the pool of photo chemicals below him: riding around in shopping carts at Walmart, sitting in the Pinegrove, laughing at who-knows-what in old dorm rooms. He finishes the project and still receives a B-, but he realizes that those photos were never meant for the professor or the class or the grade anyway. Or maybe it’s Monday and a girl is painting a guy’s nails as they listen to “Flashlight” by The Front Bottoms. He spills the entire bottle of nail polish across her jeans and bed comforter. The guy graduates and moves on, but the stain never comes out of her jeans.
It’s Tuesday. It’s one of those weekday Horn show nights. Remember Sports is on and the crowd is screaming along to “I Liked You Best.” Through the patio doors a group of friends nod along as they share a smoke outside. It’s just a short college nicotine phase they all say. It’s Tuesday and a guy gets to meet Lila Ramani from Crumb and he can barely believe it because he’s had such a huge crush on her. It’s Tuesday and JPEGMAFIA is playing “Baby I'm Bleeding” and all the white kids yell, "White boy better put his hands up.” It’s Tuesday and Neighbor Lady’s lead singer steps out into the crowd and everyone sings along for the final song.
It’s Wednesday. It’s the first warm day of the year so everyone is out playing “Beer Die” and “Stump” on South Quad while listening to the new Kanye. A girl remembers she has class and rushes off, without a single book in hand. It’s a true Kamp Kenyon day. It’s Wednesday and some first years are sitting by the logs listening to “Mather Knoll” thinking they’re the first ones to discover that spot as well as that song. It’s Wednesday and a group of friends are playing “Blue World” by Mac Miller for probably the third time that night. One of the friends grabs the aux and puts on “Jordan Belfort” by Wes Walker and Dyl because he always wants to listen to “Jordan Belfort” when he gets drunk. And only “Jordan Belfort.”
It’s Thursday. A pair of roommates are lying in bed listening to “This Must Be The Place” by Talking Heads in their room for the umpteenth time because it makes them feel like they’ve found a place they belong. In that same dorm, it’s Thursday and a girl gets back from class and is sitting on the floor of her best friend’s room. He kissed her last week and things are a bit of a mess. They don’t have much to say to each other so he grabs his guitar, joins her on the floor, and begins to sing “Say Yes” by Elliott Smith. Elliott Smith then became her most played artist on Spotify that year.
It’s Friday. In the DKE wing, a girl notices her friend sitting atop a desk with her earbuds in. As she approaches, the friend hands her an earbud. She’s listening to “Electric Love” by BØRNS, so, in the middle of this party, silently at peace with everything around them, the two girls sit there watching everyone else sing along to “Caroline” by Aminé. On the other side of campus, it’s Friday and a group of girls slide and dance across the beer-soaked kitchen tiles of an NCA singing along to “Dancing Queen” by ABBA. It’s Weird Friday and Shedding Velvet covers “Borrowed Time” by Parquet Courts at the farm. It’s Friday and all of the parties get shut down so a group of friends plays “All Night Longer” by Sammy Adams out loud from a phone as they dance and skip home down Middle Path, anything but walk.
It’s Saturday. The Kokosingers cover “Aphasia” by Pinegrove and it feels as if time stops. It’s Saturday and a pair of roommates blast “212” in their freshmen room and dance like no one’s looking. It’s Saturday and people everywhere are singing along to “Closer” by the Chainsmokers. Everywhere. It’s Saturday and a bunch of guys are ironically moshing to “Take a Step Back” by Ski Mask the Slump God and XXXTENTACION at the Ganter because they want everyone to get out. It’s Saturday and “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show plays when the clock strikes quiet hours. Whether in the Bullseye or somewhere else on campus, whether they know each other or not, a group of people come together arm-in-arm in a circle air-fiddling and echoing the lyrics, “Rock me! Rock me! Rock me!” to end the night.
It’s Sunday. A crowded car of friends is on their way to Honeyrun and one guy has his head sticking out of the window with his tongue lapping up the warm air like a dog. “When You Were Young” by the Killers comes on and a girl raises the volume to the highest decibel. It’s Sunday and a guy is listening to “Detectorists” by Johnny Flynn down by the Kokosing. It’s Sunday and friends are screaming along in the car to “If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You, I Will” by PUP as they watch the cornfields go by. It’s Sunday at sunset and a group of guys are driving back from a state park, exhausted. Someone puts “Visions of Gideon” by Sufjan Stevens on and everyone sits in silence, carefully listening to the music. It’s Sunday and someone is playing “All My Friends” by LCD Soundsystem as they drive back up the hill. They played this song incessantly while abroad to remind themselves of home because it was the song that was playing when they drove up that hill for the first time ever.
It’s Sunday. And just like that another week on the hill has gone by.
As I approach my last remaining hours as a Kenyon student, I can’t help but feel shorted of many things: seeing that first warm day of spring on the hill, saying goodbye to all my friends, a proper graduation. But these songs and these memories remind me that no matter where we are in the world right now, this is still our semester. And this is our playlist: