“Writers are liars, my dear, surely you know that by now? And yet, things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.” - Neil Gaiman - Dream Country
This
week I thought it would be fun to explore the music from some movies
that have made their way onto my personal favourites playlist.
The criteria for this is simply a piece (or pieces) that have specifically
been written to accompany a motion picture.
Artist: Daft Punk
Movie: Tron: Legacy
Favourite Tracks: 'End Titles' and 'Solar Sailer'
Why?: A movie with motorcycles (OMG, Peanut is finally talking about motorcycles!), deadly Frisbees, guys in glowing skin tight outfits and hockey helmets and it's all inside a computer? Say no more!
The original 1982 'Tron' movie blew me away. The 1980s were clearly all about throwing as much fantasy and science fiction at my impressionable mind as possible. I am a child of 'Star Wars' as much as I am of 'Star Trek'. I still have anxiety about the horse named Artax from 'the Never Ending Story'. 'Blade Runner' still shapes the way the world looks where I write my own dystopian science fiction. I still have a crush on the Gobin King from 'Labyrinth'. I could run on. Stories in science fiction and fantasy had an enormous affect on me as a child. Fantasy meant unicorns and magic were real. Science fiction meant traveling beyond the stars at warp factor nine or faster than twelve parsecs.
When Disney announced way back (the movie came out in 2010), that they were going to work on a sequel to 'Tron' I was thrilled! The original movie was groundbreaking even if it failed at the box office. It was a visual treat. Remember those light-cycles? I wanted one back in the 80s. And if I couldn't have one, well, I'd settle for a regular motorcycle. A simple quest story placed in a virtual world filled with so much story telling potential. And that's where 'Tron: Legacy' went. The concept of a digital world, a micro-universe within computers. There are a couple of scenes in the movie where Jeff Bridges talks on about how this digital universe could cure all the world's problems. It was a beautiful thought all around. A digital universe meant that an appropriate soundtrack should be overlaid right? Who better than Daft Punk? Many of you will be familiar with the piece 'Derezzed' which takes place in the bar fight scene, and featured as a music video with Olivia Wilde, was released as part of the film promotions. But that song is the earworm for the movie. It's the piece that sometimes leaves you confused, because the rest of the movie's soundtrack has a completely different feeling.
If you saw the movie and barely remember the soundtrack, that's fine. The soundtrack often sits in the background and is designed to colour your mood to better fit what's happening onscreen. Not every one of them can be a John Williams overture of dramatic proportions. I think Daft Punk did a wonderful job of fitting the mood of the movie with their compositions. Remember, 'Derezzed' is part of a bar fight.
Tron's universe was a dark, oppressed digital world, that suddenly is filled with hope on the arrival of the hero after what would have been several generations in our timeline. Daft Punk did a good job of mixing an electronic sound with some impressive orchestrations. Listen to the piece 'Recognizer' or even 'Adiago for TRON' for some beautiful orchestrations. For a push into a more digital soundscape, 'Armory', could have been a backing track to a menu screen in a video game, and 'End of Line' incorporates video game sounds into the track. But for me, I have two favourite go-to tracks. One of my favourite pieces is the 'End Titles', which is a great piece of electronica, that sums up with entire soundtrack with a dance floor ready beat. I think it neatly wraps up the movie. It is also one of the louder pieces of the film.
As you all should know by now, I ride and pieces with lots of volume changes don't work that well. It's also a bit of a meditative piece for me because of the repetition as a dance-able track. It helps me get myself into a mental state where I'm able to focus on whatever I need to focus on, like, riding through downtown traffic. *quietly admitting if hooligan riding is involved, this is the track I'll queue up*. This
being a blog where I've called myself Motorcycle Peanut, I suppose I
owe some discussion about the Ducatis featured in the movie. Slight
problem though. I'm not a fan of Ducatis. So I'll tell you Sam's bike is
a Ducati Sport 1000 Biposto, which was discontinued shortly before the
film's release. It's a pretty bike, as with most Ducatis. And Kevin's
older bike is the Ducati 750 SS. I was never a fan of rounded fairings
so it got an automatic no from me. If you're a Ducati fan, there you go.
I'll stick with dreaming about a Busa, Ninja or HD. (Just don't tell my
possessed motorcycle. She's already tried to kill me a couple of times
now!).
The other favourite? 'Solar Sailer' is posted below. It fills in a beautiful scene in the movie, where they make their escape on what's essentially a ship with a giant sail. This is where Jeff Bridge's speeching about how the code could fix the world comes in, all the while, you start to take in the complex beauty of this digital universe, despite the darkness, it's gorgeous. It's a piece with a lot of volume changes so I don't listen to it as often, but I think it's a lovely atmospheric and dreamy piece that stands alone quite well. As for the movie, I would strongly recommend it. But watch the first one and keep in mind when the movie was released. (1982!)
Favourite Lyrics: No stop signs, speed limit Nobody's gonna slow me down Like a wheel, gonna spin it Nobody's gonna mess me around Hey Satan, paid my dues
Why?: Today is the anniversary of the bit of Dragon slaying Paul and I did two years ago. This song, I promise you, is on repeat in every store in Deal's Gap, North Carolina. This little 11 mile (18 kilometer) stretch of interstate highway 128 that we came down to ride on, is known as the Tail of the Dragon. It consists of 318 curves and many of them are hairpins. You don't ride this bit of highway lightly and it was the life affirming trip I wanted to take to prove to myself and to Paul that I was fine and I could handle anything life (or my motorcycle) threw at me.
This song will forever be associated with this trip we took. We rode the entire round trip of 2,700 km + in just over 4 days, with one day (including a couple of hours after the sunset) of playing on the dragon. Aside from this, the songs a rockin' tune anyway. Great for any road trip. :)
9 States and 1 Province for an 18 km bit of wheeeeee!
Sexy beasts... and the guy riding the Harley is pretty sweet too.
I’m fortunate. My shift at work allows me to ride home at night.
It’s the beginnings of summer now. It’s still cool at night. In fact, this spring has been exceptionally rainy and cool.
But it was pleasant and warm today. But I can feel it in the air. Rain is coming but I want to enjoy my ride home, so I don’t rush.
There is something about riding at night that I’ve always enjoyed since I started riding. I’m going to try to explain it. So bear with me.
First, it’s cooler at night. I can be fully geared up and not be uncomfortably warm.
Later in the evenings, things are quiet, especially on the week days. People are home and sleeping and everything feels relaxed. I ride along what is normally a bustling busy street, and there are only a few cars around me. I don’t have to be as defensive, as if everyone is out to kill me. These people in their high end cars are only out now because they need to get somewhere. They’re not unhappy, not stuck in traffic. And it seems that they don’t want to tangle with a biker, so they give me space.
Things at night smell different.
During the day, the sun cooks everything. You get this miasma of scent. It’s a muddled, crowded, dusty, smell. It’s not necessarily a bad smell, but things, subtle things, get lost in the mix. The heat of the day releases the smell of human presence and for me, that’s a stressful smell, especially in a large city.
At night, things smell different.
You can’t enjoy this from being in a car. This is why dogs stick their heads out windows. With the heat of the day gone, the strong odors are gone and you can smell nature and it’s pure. The scent of flowers surrounds you. Summer is coming. You can feel it, smell it, taste it.
The ride home takes me past sleepy neighbourhoods of large homes with perfectly manicured lawns where everyone has settled in for the evening. It’s a work night after all. Of course, these gardens have an obligatory lilac bush. And it’s almost June. The lilacs are starting to bloom and their perfume is beginning to fill the air.
I ride past these personal oases, and everything is floral, beautiful, pruned and clipped. And as beautiful as these gardens are they are missing something.
Further along, I’ve left the subdivision and am going down a country side road past vast fields of sod. The heat rises from the fields and I can smell the earth, and the grass. There it is, that missing thing… the fresh earth, unkempt, dirty, innate. There is a mist coming up from the fields. There’s rain in the air, but not yet. There’s steam from the earth releasing it’s heat from the day. Another lone biker passes me going the other direction. I can smell the exhaust. He’s running a bit rich and then the small of exhaust is gone. He, no doubt, is enjoying the evening as I am. Someone else had traversed through here already. I can smell a cigarette. And it’s gone.
The trees on each side of the road are towering here. It feels like a corridor, I can’t look up at the sky here, because the fields and trees attract wildlife so now is not the time to be star gazing. There are lights at the end of the road that make the the end of the trees look like a portal.
I can concentrate on my other senses. Riding is my meditative state. I’m able to listen to music and really hear it for what it is. And if it’s a song I’m super familiar with, it falls to the wayside and my mind starts filling my head with inspirational thoughts, plot bunnies and the occasional “I wonder what’s for dinner?”
The highway smells different. There isn’t so much exhaust right now. The cars running around this time of the night are few and far in between and I don’t feel threatened by them. There is construction, so I get the occasional whiff of asphalt and tar. Not many people are aggressive right now. You don’t need to be. No one is around. There are no crowds. It’s night and it’s calm. I’m alone with my thoughts. The highway passes under my tires like water in a fast flowing river and I’m flying now.
Warning: Long post ahead. Swearing involved. TL:DR: I got into a motorcycle accident a few years ago. I knew at the time it was gonna make one hell of a story. There was swearing involved. I said some funny stuff. My family and friends are wonderful. My husband is awesome. I’m still riding my motorcycle and visited the place where that sign <--- lives a year later as a reward for living.
I dislike sad anniversaries. I generally don’t choose to recognize them l and would rather focus on the happier things in life instead. But in most of the crappiest of times, I’ve come out better at the end. That being said, May 13, 2016 is a day that goes down in my books as probably one of the shittier days in my history. I feel that I should probably acknowledge the day because, if anything, a lot of good has come from it.
We were on our way to PD13 (Port Dover, Ontario, for Friday the 13th). It was raining. My bike hit an oil/debris spot on the ramp. I slid and no matter what I did, the bike continued heading towards the guardrail. My bike then hit the high kerb, my foot came off the peg. My foot had come down and my leg hit the wooden post on the guard rail and sent me flying (at least, this is how I remember it).
Here’s where things go slow motion:
When I was flung off the bike, there wasn’t any kind of life flashing before my eyes moment. It was the following thoughts that went through my head:
Goddamn, that hurt. (when my bum knee hit the guard rail post(?) Whatever it hit, it was hard and it hurt).
Aw shit! This is going to hurt! (as I was going through the air and knew I was going to hit the ground or guardrail hard and I knew i wasn’t going to die from this.. yeah. I knew I was going to survive. I was just hoping that it wasn’t going to leave a mark).
Oh fuck… Paul has to watch this happen. Fuck fuck fuck…
For the split second I had to comprehend that my beloved husband was behind me on his motorcycle, having to navigate the ramp and stop safely and watch what was happening to me, I felt so guilty. So shitty. So bloody determined that I really needed to stand up as quickly as possible after crash landing. (Spoiler: I did not stand up right away).
Emus do not give birth.
I hit the ground and proceeded to sound like an emu giving birth (FYI: This is apparently what I sound like when I get the wind knocked out of me, as per one of my good friends who told me so years before).
I was connected on my two way radio with one friend who said the first words out of my mouth, (once the emu birthing was done), were: “What the fuck was that all about?!”
So I was lying there, mad (and out of breath). Mad that I’d slipped. Mad that my bike was probably broken. Mad that I really really wanted to get up but my first aid training told me to stay put, lest I have a neck injury. Also, mad that no one was running a GoPro. I was pissed! Really! I just flew off my bike and landed on a guard rail. Internet worthy stuff! Sigh. I really just wanted to get up and look to see if my bike was okay and then hop on the bike and either go to Port Dover or go home.
And then Paul’s very worried face appeared above me.
Fuck… I can taste blood in my mouth. It’s probably residual from a nose bleed I had earlier in the day from blowing my nose too hard. Or I bit my tongue, but I gotta tell him because he’s going to be the one to assess me right? Why did it have to be Paul?
'Tis but a scratch!
“My arm feels weird, My head and neck feel ok. My leg feels weird… and I can taste blood but I think that’s because of my bleeding nose this morning. Otherwise I’m okay. How’s my bike?” “Your bike is fine, it’s standing upright. It didn’t tip.” Paul was very upset but surprisingly keeping it together and doing what he does best. Taking control of a bad situation.
Yeah right. Fucking liars. Think of a better lie! But here’s the kicker. My bike WAS fine. It had ridden along the kerb, stalled and stayed upright against the kerb. There is a tiny dent on the bottom of the tank and a scuff on the frame. We have since renamed my Precious bike Christine. I still ride her as much as possible. She’s my spirited (yes… I know what I did there. She’s a Honda Shadow Spirit) iron horse from Tennessee that will never be broken in. :) And she's Christine so I have no choice but to love her).
Paul makes beautiful music with this bike
The ride to the hospital involved Paul following my ambulance in his bike, and apparently a police escort helping keep traffic away from him. The ambulance driver hit a pothole. I yelped (my ribs were broken) and he apologized. How nice of him. What a sweet kid.
“Yeah, yeah. I know it’s not you. I blame the ministry of transportation... fucking government cutbacks..."
I could hear Paul’s bike (FYI, it’s a beauty, it roars and he was rev bombing to keep people away from him because he didn’t know the cop wasn’t trying to pull him over).
Remember that scene in Days of Thunder, where Tom Cruise is getting an MRI done after his accident and asks “Could someone talk to me? When I'm driving, I've got a guy on the radio who talks to me.” It was his bike, that sound, that Harley-Davidson roar was Paul talking to me, that gave me focus in this highly confusing and seriously inconvenienced day so far.
Alien Abductions feel like this
In emergency, you are not afforded shame. They cut all my clothes off to assess me. It is the oddest experience lying on a stretcher, cold and naked with a neck brace on having a bunch of strangers milling around you looking worried. I imagine this is what an alien abduction probably feels like minus the probing. There was no probing... go away you sick people.
I dislike being worried over.
“Excuse me?”
Four worried medical professionals suddenly surround me, worried looks. I can see up their noses. It's weirdly hilarious.
“Um… I just wanted to say, I am really sorry I didn’t shave my legs. I really wasn’t expecting to be here today.”
Laughter, visibly relaxed people.
I should have mentioned the bikini waxing part too, but … I wanted to see Paul. I wanted to tell him, I was okay and maybe could he go home and make sure the cats had food? And have cold beer ready for when I get there.
I won’t relate Paul’s side of the story here. I know this was one of the shittiest days of his life and that he was sad and I know he was worried. And I know, indirectly, I was the cause of it and I’ll always feel shitty about that. (Opens thesaurus.com - types in ‘shitty’ - there are no results. Did you mean shirt? - Well shit! I'm all out of synonyms for poop. That’s just crappy.💩)
It was a long day… I was in the hospital around 9 am. I didn’t leave until Monday. (mostly because the person that could have sent me home (It was someone who had to assess me and make sure I could go home) didn’t work after 5 and not on weekends. Tell me again how cutting back funding for healthcare makes sense? I took up a hospital bed for three days when I could have been home relaxing with my cats!!)
Injury count: A bruised lung, four fractured ribs on my left, fractured sternum, dislocated and broken right shoulder, broken left thumb that required surgery and wires to hold it into place while it healed, (it was grossly awesome, picture link at the end so if you don't like gross don't click on that link…) broken right toe and bruised left knee that wouldn’t hold much weight on the other leg, so I was a hobbling mess.
It's just a flesh wound. Can I go home now?
Many lessons were learned that day (and over the next few): Lesson 1. It’s cold in emergency when you’re naked.
Lesson 2. I threw up on a nurse. It hurts like hell puking when you have broken ribs. I can apologize and throw up at the same time. *Promptly adds this to my list of skills on a resume* Nurses (my mom was a nurse) are generally awesome and overworked and inadvertently abused by people like me. Again... very sorry.
Lesson 3. Surgery on thumbs is performed by a plastic surgeon. The opportunity to enhance the two bad girls on my chest missed. When I woke up from surgery, I had pulled my gown open and looked down at my chest and commented that my boobs were still the same size, which was much disappointment. There were worried looking friends and relatives around me when I woke up. I didn’t like that. I made that joke. It was funny. They laughed at my missed opportunity to go up a few cup sizes.
Lesson 4. My husband brought my iPhone and headphones in. I had music to keep me company for the next two days. I’d like to lie to you and tell you it was Talk Talk or Duran Duran that kept me going. I honestly don’t remember if any of their songs came up. I honestly don’t remember what music was playing (Plus, anyone who's paying attention... I didn't get that into Talk Talk until last August). Given my mood, I likely stuck it on classical and listened to selections of Beethoven and Nigel Kennedy playing Vivaldi. I wanted to go home. I wasn’t comfortable here. I had to pee.
Lesson 5. I HAD TO PEE! My body forgot how to pee (I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since 6 that morning. And after surgery, I was drinking water and juice and stuff.
I don’t do bedpans. I need to pee. They got me set up with this portable toilet seat thing. I sat. Nothing happened.
Fuck me. I’ve forgotten how to pee.
Another good friend of mind had related her tale of peeing when she had gall bladder surgery. She is my post-surgery pee guru.
“I just let gravity take over” she said. I'll lie and tell you she appeared to me like Ben Kenobi on Hoth. All glowing and mystical, repeating that I needed to go to the Degobah system.
And just like that, the pee flowed.
Koreans are as awesome as we are nuts.
Lesson 6. My cousins are loving, crazy and awesome at the same time. Koreans are all the same. What you can’t fix, feed. They brought a stores worth of Korean noms and started chattering about everything and anything and bickering among themselves like we were all at home. It was great. I love them.
Lesson 7. Bikers are really friendly people. The lady in the next bed’s husband bought me a piece of lemon meringue pie from Fran’s restaurant next-door because he wanted to make me feel better after hearing I’d come in because of a bike accident. For the life of me, I can’t remember his name. I know his wife was really sick. I really hope she recovered and they are happy. Also, some awesome friends made it a point to get me that Friday, May 13th, 2016 patch. It is one of the most important patches I have. Oh, and a T-shirt. I was humbled.
Lesson 8. Don't try to do chores like sweeping when you have that many broken bones. Your body will remind you pretty damn quickly that you should flake out on the couch instead of trying to sweep. I got winded after 30 seconds. (I was sweeping because I was determined to get back to normal... bad idea).
Lesson 9. Murdoch Mysteries is on Canadian television at least three times a day (or it was in May 2016). Itis a really good show and I highly recommend it. It kept me company for the six weeks I was recovering. True to my fangirly ways, I obviously developed a giant crush on Yannick Bisson and Jonny Harris.
Lesson 10. The song 'It’s My Life' by Talk Talk is no longer about a human relationship. It is now squarely a song which I sing loudly and often at my bike that may or may not have tried to kill me. Don't judge me. I'll sing what I want.
Lesson 11. When I got home on Monday, I sat on my bike. Despite the fact she just tried to kill me, I was happy and whispered that as soon as I was able, we’d be traveling again and in six weeks time, the moment that cast came off my clutch hand, I was on it and riding (the clutching was about amateurish and terrible for the first day, but what better way to build the strength back up in my thumb than doing stuff like using the clutch on my bike? Motorcycle physiotherapy!)
Lesson 12. My brother and his wife are awesome baby sitters. They babysat my sorry ass during the time Paul was at work until I was well enough to sort of fend for myself. My nephew was also awesome and kept me company when he wasn't at school.
Lesson 13. If you need to sneeze or cough with broken ribs, hug a pillow. No thanks to anyone at the hospital who never bothered to tell me this. Thanks to another friend who informed me of this.
Lesson 14. I have some wonderful friends in my life. Everyone who came by to see me in the hospital, who dropped in to see me after, messaged me, called me, sent well wishes, and presents! Thank you! You made this Peanut feel all warm and fuzzy. I'd go further but I'll turn into a snivelling mess a la Mike Myers in Wayne's World where he promised he wouldn't cry.
You can actually see where my cast was.
Lesson
15. When you fall, you get back up again. You shouldn't be afraid to
ask for help if you've fallen a little further than you expected. It was
annoying having to ask for help during my recovery. But thanks to
everyone who did help me. As for getting back up... damn right I was on
my motorcycle the moment I got home from getting that final cast removed
from my clutch hand!
Lesson 16. I will never doubt that my husband loves me. Ever. I remember everything he said to me over those few
days, both verbal and non-verbal. *warm fuzzies*
Whee! Wheee! WHEEEEEE!
Lesson 17. Life is what you make it. The following year, Paul and I rode for two days (no trailer for us!) down to Tennessee (where my bike comes from) and North Carolina and slayed a dragon. It was seven states and one province worth of bugs, dirt and awesome and the kind of reaffirming journey that needed to happen to remind us that we make a pretty decent couple and can do anything we want to.
Blog visitor bonus! This scene from True Lies is how I like to remember my accident. While I wish my motorcycle event was as awesome as said scene, in real life I was not the fleeing terrorist. I was Arnold Schwarzenegger and my motorcycle was the horse. And there were injuries. If my life were to become a movie, this would be much more audience pleasing:
As promised, slightly gross photos of my thumb after the cast was removed in the link: (Yeah.. don't click if you're in the least bit squeemish. I don't think the photos are super gross, but hey. I don't gross out easy).
Edit update 1: Yeah, yeah.. I know Lesson 4 doesn't sound like a lesson. I was going to make some comment about the healing power of music, but as it was three years ago and the time when I wrote this post, I actually had to pee and seriously derailed my train of thought.
