and Words
Hanging out on the corner
He’s got no place to go.
She sits in an empty bedroom
Playing the radio.
Every day they’re regretting
All the things never tried;
Every day they’re dyin’
Just a little bit more inside.
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
I attended high school where I first discovered Triumph. They played hard rock, but they felt different than other bands of the time. Other bands had image or even some dirt. They sounded cleaner. I started with this album, Thunder Seven. I imagine that I initially had it on cassette, though I only remember playing it on CD. Subsequently, I attended two of their concerts, the tours for this album and The Sport of Kings. The stage shows were phenomenal.
Since my teens, I listened to this band, mesmerized by the sound of their music. These days predated the streaming applications and even digital music, in the form of MP3’s. Playing music meant that you needed to carry the physical media, typically in the form of cassettes or CD, so I needed to be selective. Triumph was a persistent part of that collection. This continued through college and beyond.
My college roommates and I had great fondness for this album. It got regular play in the stereo in our dinky on-campus apartment. This disc has a strange fascination with time, with tracks like “Time Goes By”, “Time Cannon”, and “Killing Time”. Though through a strange twist of cosmic irony, I didn’t notice until years later.
These roommates and I met during freshman year. Most of us lived on the same floor of Pearson Hall, separated by only a few doors. We spent most of our freshman year together. While we didn’t necessarily attend the same classes at the same time and place, we enrolled in the same class with the same standardized tests. These included courses like Chemistry 101 and Electrical Engineering 117. By the end of that first year, we were a fixture.
Late that year, while we planned our living arrangements for sophomore year, a slot for an on-campus apartment opened. A modest 2-bedroom, 4-resident apartment that sat on the opposing end of campus to the engineering building became our next home for the years that followed. Though that apartment was subpar for how much we paid, I granted us the flexibility of staying on campus. We could schedule morning and afternoon classes on one day and easily come home to relax in the hours between classes.
Music became an instrumental part of how we spent our leisure time. It often flowed through those speakers in the living room of that apartment. Playing music through speakers feels distinctively different than through headphones. There were instances where I yearned for the moments when my friends would be away for the evening, so that I could play music at insanely high volume and in complete darkness.
On those moments when we played music, one group which we could consistently agree on was Triumph, especially this album. Naturally, it didn’t necessarily fit everyone’s mood all the time, but it rarely got objections. It never felt like a compromise. While I also grew fond of Spanish music during that time, I’d have to pick moments of solitude to listen to it.
Years later, as I listened to this song on my pair of Sony MDR-V6’s, the music and notes played the same ways they always did. The words sounded familiar, but instead of merely hearing them, I listened to them for the first time. The words mirrored the pervasive, regretful sadness from the music. It spins the tale of a life of regret, though specifically a life of inaction. Only to subsequently realize that you’re quickly running out of time.
In that quiet moment of self-reflection, the song lifted me from its music and words. It elevated me from that instant and forced me to reflect upon my own life. Pictures of moments in my life spun in my mind. First, they flashed figurative pictures of forks on the road, where a decision was imminent, like what to do after graduation. Then they gradually morphed into more subtle scenarios, do I continue down this road or choose to take this turn?
Would I regret never trying my hand at writing? Would picking a career as an exceptional test engineer versus a middling developer ultimately bring me happiness? In that moment when my chest is pounding and I’m filled with doubt, should I lean in for that kiss? Should I respond to the e-mail from a random woman asking me about the Seattle weather (hint: we now share a house together)?
It is in that spirit that I first started writing this blog.
As I reflect on this song, it perplexes me that I listened to it so many times without understanding the lyrics. Were the words always there? How did I not notice them before? It’s almost like the first time you see the arrow in the FedEx logo, between the ‘e’ and the ‘x’. Was it intentional, the way that Disney injects humor that resonates with adults and passes undetected by children?
Was it all happenstance? One moment on one particular day led me to finally reflect on those words. It could’ve easily been on any of the dozens (if not hundreds) of times that I played this tune before. Was it fate or random chance?
However, I choose to believe that I heard those words when I was finally able to reflect on their significance. For years, I persevered on my course. I ambled, one foot in front of the other, allowing momentum to carry me. No, it wasn’t filled with inaction, but never venturing out of your comfort zone is its own form of inaction. And suddenly, on one day it literally sang to me.
I can only express gratitude that it came to me before I ran out of time. I listen to those words, “every day they’re regretting all the things never tried”… knowing that I was able to avoid this fate.
May this post similarly inspire you. Carpe Diem.