44. Song No. 245: “All Your Way,” Morphine
This album was one of the last things fed to Slothrop the iPod, and was the direct result of a trusted friend’s recommendation. Ever since I realized that differing musical tastes are far from the most damning complaints a couple can tease each other about for the rest of their lives, having friends to share music with has become increasingly important. My best friend and I have always had eerily similar tastes, which set the bar awfully high; while no one else quite matches our compatibility, I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how often unexpected friends and hubs’ buddies love so many of my favorites just as unabashedly.
The first time two of my husband’s friends visited our long-ago dorm room of an apartment was after my terminal social awkwardness made for a tepid-at-best first impression. Fortunately, the things I love make up for my inability to mesh with new people, and the clearly-mine band posters lining the stairwell entrance betrayed that the three of us had scads of shared favorites to rave about; almost 14 years later, I think I’ve been to more concerts with either one of them than I have with my own husband, and sharing music remains the tradition that keeps on giving.
Another one of hubs’ friends turned out to be close with a number of my own hometown friends, offering the rare gift of instant warmth and establishing about how often we’d still be finding commonalities almost a decade and a half later. Music accounts for a loooooooooot of our shared interests, and more often than not, he’s why I’m still discovering new and wonderfully boundary- or genre-pushing bands to love at 36.
Morphine was one he was adamant I give serious listen to, and rightfully so. I’m a helpless sucker for any time a saxophone makes an appearance, I looooove the moody velveteen vocals, and I am not even a little ashamed that the first few bars of this song almost always make me go “Wait, what Dave Matthews song is this?” in the best, most complimentary way possible.