Performer: Porcupine Tree
Songwriters: Steven Wilson, Richard Barbieri, Colin Edwin, Gavin
Harrison
Original Release: Deadwing
Year: 2005
Definitive Version: None
Remember how I said that I
might add things to the list late in the game if I found something that
undeniably should be on here? This is one of those times.
I recently got Porcupine
Tree’s Fear of a Blank Planet, the album that came in between Deadwing and The
Incident, in 2007. I can’t recommend it enough. Of the album’s six songs, five
would be contenders for the list, assuming I was restarting it now and at least
three for sure would make it.
Way Out of Here would be
around 900. The song that goes here—635A, if you will—is Anesthetize, the
album’s three-part, 17-minute centerpiece, which includes a guitar solo by Alex
Lifeson of Rush. It’s entirely possible that that song should be higher, around
500 or so, but I’ll be conservative and put it here. The third song will get
its own entry. It might be top 300 when it’s all said and done.
Anyway, as far as this song
goes, by May 2011 when my newfound love of Porcupine Tree was in full bloom, I
was getting pretty frustrated with my hearing problems. I had been to two ENTs
and made something like eight doctors-office visits in the past two months. I’m
not one to go to the doctor if I have a cough, so I was embarrassed that it
appeared as though I were.
I followed my second ENT’s
instructions to the letter. As soon as he took ear surgery off the table, I was
on board. He believed GERD was behind my ear problems, which Laurie’s aunt, a
former nurse, agreed was a possibility. So I took a nasal spray, an
acid-reducer and cut out spicy food. Nothing.
Around this time, Laurie and
I learned that Chicago’s main reggae bar, The Wild Hare, was closing at the end
of the month. Laurie had been, years earlier; I had never been. She said it was
a pretty cool dive that had great music. We had talked for a long time about
going, but, you know how it is. We always figured we’d have more time. Well, it
was now or never.
It was fairly crowded but
not wall to wall when we arrived on the warm mid-May Friday night, and the
music was thumping. But it wasn’t what I was expecting in that it didn’t appear
to be divey at all. It actually looked fairly modern. Laurie said the owners,
who were closing to move to Ethiopia (?!) had done a lot of work to the place
since she had been there. The music sounded good, although it definitely would
be a monaural experience for me.
As far as I was concerned,
there was only one way to handle this: a mai tai. There’s nothing like a
rum-based fruity drink to make you feel like yer down in de islands, mon. I had
the bartender make it Vegas style—with a splash of 151 (the proof) rum on top.
Laurie and I danced for a
while on the main floor, got a second round of mai tais with extra love and
moved upstairs where it was less crowded. In fact, we were able to get seating
in the front of the balcony where we had a great view of the stage.
I don’t know whether it was
the music or the high-test drinks, but I’ll never forget sitting there,
enjoying the music as much as I could with one good ear, when I felt a soft pop
in my right ear … and suddenly the music was in stereo.
I didn’t say anything at
first, but unlike previous times when I would bend over so I could hear out of
that ear, my right ear didn’t immediately close up again. I turned to Laurie:
My ear just opened up. She gave me a huge hug.
We stayed until closing
time, and we weren’t alone. We hadn’t hung out in Wrigleyville for a long time—that’s
a younger person’s scene—and I hadn’t missed the crowds. The sidewalks were
overflowing into the street as a result of all the other bars on Clark closed
at the same time. But unlike other times, it didn’t feel oppressive and
intimidating.
Instead, I felt wide awake and
alive for the first time in two months—almost euphoric. It was a great feeling.
And with that, the first
year of this endeavor comes to a close. Thanks for reading.
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