Maine Soundtrack

By Jack Stephen

In the middle of a beautiful forest in Maine, my father-in-law passed away on August 3, 2024.

My wife and I headed to Maine. What did we listen to?

One thing is for sure, Maine is very difficult to get to from Colorado. There are no direct flights, and we must always get on a bus or train, and/or rent a car, especially given that my in-laws were in a camper, set up on their friend’s land, in the middle of a forest. We got into Boston about 2 in the morning; the bus would leave for Portland, Maine, about 6 AM, so we had 4 hours to wait. This was the only math I could do at this point. We pushed a couple of faux leather sofas together to make a crash pad. As I was tossing and turning, I heard some faint music on the speaker.

What were they playing? No idea. In the cacophony of this hour and setting, I couldn’t hear much. It was just a collection of noise, sort of mashed together.  

What they should have been playing? “Zionsville” by Khruangbin. This Houston band has put together something awesome. They have a real smooth crisp guitar player. They have some great albums including the collaboration Texas Sun with Leon Bridges. Hearing this track would have made things okay, or at least for a little bit.

Waking up in the Boston Airport, at the ungodly hour of 4:30 or 5:00 AM, is not amazing. As I peered up from our nook, I noticed some other travelers were sprawled about, possibly jealous of our set up. I smelled the coffee from the shop, where there was already a massive line. We hoped in line. Then we headed to the exit to catch the bus to Portland.  

What were they playing: “More Than a Feeling” by Boston. It’s only fitting right? I would say this is a pretty good band with some fucking excellent songs. Tom Scholz started this band and allegedly worked tirelessly in his basement studio, mixing, re-mixing, and tweaking these songs to the point of obsession. I guess there was some CBS lawsuit that kind of derailed the band’s production for a period, I think mostly because Scholz took so long to finish a record. A better way of putting it is “…its been such a long time…” since we’ve seen a record. But whatever, this is how it goes with artistic expression, books, art, movies, and especially music; eventually you must abandon the project knowing that you (the artist) will never be satisfied with the final product. I also really enjoy the tracks “Foreplay/Longtime” and “Peace of Mind,” but I didn’t hear them in the Boston Airport that morning.

We finally made it to the in-law’s RV camper on the Maine Coast. We were close to the town of Boothbay Harbor. This was where my wife and I got married. It was a beautiful day in September, with a slight fog dusting the morning water. I was wearing a cape and a western tie. I watched my wife stride down the deck of her parents’ house escorted by her father also wearing a cape, as well as black-and-white checkered Vans made famous from the movie. They were both smiling and glowing. She looked so beautiful; I thought I was going to cry. How did I end up here? I guess I was lucky and patient because today everything seems perfect.  

What was our wedding song? “Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley (originally written by Leonard Cohen). Jeff Buckley was one of those session guys, who after many years cutting licks in Los Angeles, finally decided to make the album Grace. Incredible album. His unique singing and fantastic guitar are timeless. He sort of slows the song down on his version; he lets it flow. It’s almost a rendition better than the original, but with this song written so well who’s really to say. For my wonderful wife, Hallelujah! Love you.   

We went into town, such a wonderful scene, New England coast in the summer—the line out the door of the ice cream store where my wife had her first job; the smell of seafood; and the feeling of ease. Pure summer bliss, not a care in the world, and I am enjoying this place and time.  Everyone young seems to be staring at their phones; all the old people look like they’re thinking. If we could slow down time a bit, it would be nice to have these types of days go on forever.

What song was in my head? “Summertime” by Miles Davis. What to say? This fucking guy took out a trumpet and turned the music world upside down. His ability to produce, innovate, and reinvent himself were unparalleled, which is pretty incredible considering his massive heroin, cocaine, and alcohol addictions at various times. He had so many style iterations. His album Kind of Blue is widely considered to be the best jazz album ever. (By 2019 it was certified at 5 times platinum.) While the track “So What” is probably the most well-known track on that album, I was always a bit more partial to the track “All Blues.” The harmony gets going with John Coltrane on tenor sax, then almost out of nowhere, here comes Miles with the melody. The wheels just come off this track, in good way. The musicians take their cues and deliver some bad ass improv riffs. Then there’s the track, “Summertime,” from the Porgy and Bess album. It’s got an easy vibe with a splash of melancholy. It’s great, it’s relaxing, but summer’s not going to go on forever.  

Driving around Maine, it was easy to notice what a wonderful place it is. There was a pair of bald eagles swooping above the woods. 

What was on the radio? “Cult of Personality” by Living Color. I’m gonna say it, this is the greatest rock song ever. Prove me wrong. The hook, the intensity, those lyrics—add it up—it’s a crusher.  This song feels like it could almost fit with any generation, but maybe it is even more poignant in this era of the internet with its fast news and spin that skews and blurs. This world seems like it’s all just the status quo, the rich people calling all the shots while the rest of us poor schlubs try to sort it all out. Do you think a fucking rich person gives a fuck about the price of bacon? I guess we get what we pay for, at the grocery store and in the government. Then there’s this song, it really needs to have more airplay—especially right now. “They tell you one and one makes three!” and we believe it whatever it is. Fuck it all, but at least this song is greatness.   

We were sitting in a restaurant on the water, getting ready to enjoy some fresh Maine Lobster, as it was our farewell dinner to Maine. Not sure when we’re coming back. My wife asked me, “Do you recognize the waitress?” I looked over at the portly looking waitress who was kind of showing us a wry grin. “She’s the bartender who banged the caterer after our wedding.” I guess she looked vaguely familiar, difficult to say, as this would have been about 16 years ago. I was glad she did, who cares about rain on your wedding day, did the bartender bang the caterer?  

What was on the radio? “Escape” by Rupert Holmes. This is a timeless song—always easy and always familiar, known to most folks of my generation. Who doesn’t like pina coladas anyway? This is one of the great things about music and art—it is the timelessness of the whole thing because greatness is forever.  

An important aspect of my appreciation of music is my acquisition experience. Allow me to illustrate. I remember listening to Casey Kasem on Sunday nights breaking down the top 40 songs in America. I would hear something that would catch my ear, maybe a song called “Escape.” I would remember the song and maybe the artist and would then pop into the Sam Goody record store in Twin Peaks mall in Longmont and start digging. I love digging through piles of music. Often, I would not find “Escape” on a 45, but I might find something else, maybe something that I was sort of familiar with or that had a cool cover. The record store experience was not complete until I had been through it all, including the cassettes. Or maybe I would pop into Twist and Shout records in Denver and slide into the back room and see what “used” records, CDs, or cassettes were available. Or maybe I would slide into Good Records in Dallas and pick up some old country album. Or maybe I would wander into one of my favorite record stores that no-one knew about “Harry’s Head Shop” on Ferguson Road in East Dallas, right by my house. I would dig and dig and eventually decide to purchase “The Point” by Harry Nilsson. Throw in some rolling papers and I could get out of there for around $6. I don’t think this album ever made it to the top 40, but it didn’t matter, this was something I discovered after all the time I spent in record stores. This album appeared and captured my interest for some reason. I went home, put it on the turntable and just listened. By the time I was on side 2, I felt tears rolling down my cheek. The track was “Life Line.” Such a fucking beautiful song. You can still find me digging through crates in a record store somewhere, it’s makes music mean something a little bit more because it’s not just the listening. A big part of the experience is to get out and discover the music as well, because you never know what you might find. 

“Unless this dream which seems so real, is just a fantasy.”

A vignette: It’s a musty morning. I’m in the middle of a thick forest that is difficult to navigate on foot without a trail, especially after last night’s downpour. A pair of bald eagles glide and swoop as they hunt over the estuary, in hopes of catching a fish out of balance in the brackish water. Two seals poke their heads out. My best friend stops by, and we share a beer on the wood deck we built last year. “Finest Kind,” he says on his way out. My wife mills about in our RV, and I put my head down and go to sleep. I dream about my boat, as I sail away. 

What song is in my head? “Shiver Me Timbers” by Tom Waits.