Butterflies, Dead.

By: Madi Bickford

There are many things that define a person: their favorite food, their annoying habits, their pet peeves. But I have always found a family member's definition of another family member particularly interesting. For example, how do I view my sister? How does my mother view her, and how do they view my brother? 

My family characterizes each other and their traits through music. Before each of my siblings and I were born, my dad gave us a song. It was randomly and uniquely ours, and somehow we grew into it. The songs embodied us throughout the different stages of our lives. However, my dad doesn't listen to lyrics, ever. Growing up, I never paid attention to the lyrics either. I always imagined the song was about something I could understand while being at that young age. Because of this naive perception, the song was always correlated to my sibling or me. And growing up I never challenged that it may not be. I assume it's a similar experience to getting broken up while a song is playing: well, now that's a breakup song for you. Through this, I realized many of our lived experiences are uniquely tied to our understanding of music. A high note could mean something entirely different to me than it does to you, and a guitar solo that means absolutely nothing to you means everything to me. No matter how common that is, shouldn’t we be concerned about how selfish that is? As a society are we just consuming art in the way it feels most comfortable to us? If we are, is it possible we could live our entire lives missing the whole point of the artist’s intentions? 

     I had never realized I hadn't been listening to the lyrics of our songs until my coach laughed when I told him my connection to one of these songs. “Snow (Hey Oh)” by Red Hot Chili Peppers came blaring over the pool speaker. “Oh this is my brother's baby song,” I said, with a happy nostalgic sentiment for me and my brother's childhood. I was overwhelmed by our fond memories of summer, the beach, hours of Minecraft, and watching Avatar: The Last Airbender flutter like butterflies through my head. “Madi, this song is about cocaine,” he said, just as confused as I was. Jeez, butterflies dead. And it occurred to me that for many years the song had been what my family had wanted it to be about. Our association with my brother deafened us for years. How is that possible? What was my song about? Cocaine and heroin, apparently. When we listen to music, are we really listening or are we hearing what we want to hear?

     “Snow (Hey Oh)” was released in 2006 as the second song on Stadium Arcadium. The first eighteen seconds of the song are purely guitar and drums. In that short moment I'm suddenly transported back to southern coastal Maine. Anthony Kiedis starts singing about his experience with drugs and life, believing that “the things that I tried/Were in my life just to get high on.” He narrates a nuanced and vulnerable experience about the challenges with addiction, sobriety, and how to lead a life. Eight-year-old me ignored him and imagined boogieboarding alongside my brother. I completely disregarded someone’s art and instead explored my childhood. But it wasn't just me; my entire family selfishly entertained the idea that it was ours and no one else’s. No questions asked. 

      I had a similar realization with my sister’s song and its true meaning. A couple of years ago, a live performance of Fleetwood Mac’s “Silver Springs” from 1997 went viral on TikTok. It was fiercely uncomfortable and unraveled the absolute chaos that is Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. It was passionate and gut-wrenching. And all I could think when I saw it was, wait, this is a break-up song? TikTok exploded, and everyone wanted and believed they were the unforgettable girl who would haunt their ex like the witchy Stevie Nicks. 

    “Silver Springs” was released as a b-side, however society did not let this song become an afterthought. My sister has always been a sassy, blunt, and memorable person. It was fitting that this was her song, but the six-year old me had no idea it was related to Nick’s and Buckingham’s relationship. Resentment had no room in my imagination. Although now my sister basks in the glory of being unforgettable, as kids we did not realize the cultural gravity of the song. For me, my sister was and still is my silver spring, something incredible and important. For me, the musical experience that surrounds you when you listen to “Silver Springs” encapsulates her perfectly. Many people have been  confused about my sister's name, just as they’ve been confused about what a silver spring actually was. I thought that was perfect. “Silver Springs” just was, as was she; Tashi. 

     My father gave me “Fields of Gold” by Sting, track three of his Ten Summoner’s Tales (1993). “Fields of Gold” brings up complex relationships, nostalgia, children, and memories of youth. Unlike “Snow” and “Silver Springs,” “Fields of Gold” came with a music video, Sting’s visual narration of his song. But even with that portrayal, “Fields of Gold” was mine. I imagined the song was about my blonde hair, my gold jewelry, and the idea that when I was old, those who I once knew would remember me. It was comforting to think I would be one remembered, and that I had my song to prove it. I disregarded Sting's lyrical emphasis on fields of barley and his own personal experiences with relationships. To this day, I do not fully understand his account because I'm so fully ingrained in my own. When I was little, I imagined that the song embodied who I wanted to be, albeit in hazy images of gold with bagpipes in the background. A woman who was remembered for her presence that radiated like the sun, as if being gold was possible. Now that I'm older and am interested in lyrical analysis, the sentiment has changed slightly.  I still think of remembrance, but as a warm and fond memory in people’s hearts. And more importantly I think back to my childhood and who I was when I hear “many years have passed since those summer days/Among the fields of barley/See the children run as the sun goes down/Among the fields of gold.” It's my golden backyard I see, running with my family, in my imagination. And maybe some of those characteristics are actually right. Sting might nod in a subtle agreement. But I've woven this song so deeply into my lived experiences that I often miss the lyrics even though I know every word.  

      All three of these songs have one thing in common: their long intros. I think these intros gave young me time to imagine  my siblings and their identity in childhood. Nostalgia is a beast and it tends to seep into every aspect of our lives. It wasn't until a few years ago I realized it had caused me to turn three very different songs into my own personal childhood narrations. It was as if I had musically scrap-booked together my own album. 

    Perhaps if my dad listened to lyrics he would've picked songs that were more child-friendly, but ironically, in some strange twist of fate, my siblings and I identify with these songs in any way we can. No, my brother doesn't do cocaine, my sister didn't go through the longest and most public breakup of all time, and I don't really care about fields of barley, but these songs have  done something profound to change our lives. Sting used bagpipes, Stevie starts screaming, Anthony sings of struggle through life and in that we somehow resonate. And probably will for the rest of our lives. But one must stop to wonder if this is self-centered. All of these works of art were carefully curated, and for 20 years, frankly I couldn't have cared less.