Songs of the Dead: Music That Inspires Memories

Music is memory. We all have songs that transport us back to a particular time and place — or a particular person. When I hear “Fireflies” by Owl City, a spark of freedom ignites in me as I imagine my sixteen-year-old self driving to school on a frosty, dark morning in my banged-up Ford Taurus, chasing the possibilities ahead of me like so many fireflies.

My life is mapped out in music notes. “Sweet Child O’ Mine” by Guns N’ Roses sends me to a muddy field near my middle school, where I’m trudging across with a baguette in hand, my best friend throwing back her strawberry-blonde hair in a laugh, both of us wearing baggy black T-shirts and no makeup.

To fall in love all over again, I only need listen to Yann Tiersen’s “La valse d’Amélie (Version orchestre)” or Foster the People’s “I Would Do Anything For You,” and I will be a freshman on my snow-covered college campus with warm chicken spaetzle in hand from the dining hall, heading back to my dorm to check for his latest message.

Of course, songs are not simply markers of happy nostalgia; they paint the spectrum of human emotion, from memories of bittersweet longing and painful breakups to car rides with friends and wedding days. And death, too: funerals, wakes, the favorite songs of those who can no longer hear them.

For me, it doesn’t hurt to listen to the songs of the dead, even if they bring to mind tragedies and music libraries cut short. Three songs in particular serve as memorials, records of a life.

“Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol

In October 2006, an elevator in an Ohio State dorm descended with its doors open and a group of students inside. Eighteen-year-old Andrew Polakowski tried to climb out of the elevator — but the car dropped, crushing him to death.

Andrew was a business major from Erie, Pennsylvania. Everyone said he was social and friendly. He had wanted his dorm neighbor to teach him to play “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol on the guitar, and his…