I had a really nice moment with an old friend the other day. It started while I was working, and I noticed a snippet online about Kate Bush. I have forgotten what the information was, but as I read it, I heard a song in my head, and it fired off a memory (as music does so well), and my mind was slanted for a moment, and when it returned to center, I decided to fire up Spotify and head out for a walk.
“The Hounds of Love” was my friend for the walk. I remember being into Kate Bush a little when The Dreaming came out, but when I somehow got “The Hounds of Love” in my hands as a cassette, it became part of my drive to Norfolk, and back, so I got to spend some time with it uninterrupted. It was unlike the rest of my playlist at the time, and it burrowed into my mind and took up residence there, and still does today.
So as I walked and listened, it was not a nostalgic trip through old memories; it was a time warp to where my mind was at that time. It’s hard to explain, and it feels like something soft and undulating with a surface texture like sandpaper, just so you can feel it’s there. The album moves around and ends on a very bright, happy note, splashing away like a wave sliding back into the ocean.
Afterwards, I was thinking about the album’s reemergence in modern culture, spurred by its use in “Stranger Things.” I’m happy for Kate Bush to get some recognition and financial benefit, but part of me is possessive of it for my generation. We spent time with it, integrated it into our lived experience. It wasn’t a quick drop associated with some other cultural phenomenon, and it feels wrong to see it rolled around and seized by kids.
But I know this is silly. It happens all the time, and my generation did it with previous generations of music, so there is nothing new or unusual about this. So what is it with this album? I can’t put my finger on it. There is a connection that transcends the radio play, and I think it is the ethereal quality of her work. It’s not a rocking anthem-riddled album. It’s a stroll, a dance, a dirge and then a farewell. Although I was never obsessed with the album or the artist, it occupied a place in my brain. It still does, and it was a nice place to visit. It launched me down a mental journey about time and how it leaves us with a secret oasis whose comfortable banks are reserved for us alone.
