Your Life is a Concept Album

Several years ago, with a landmark birthday pending, I decided that I would record an album of autobiographical songs to mark the occasion. The project never reached a stage where I was satisfied, though several of the songs have shown up elsewhere (a bit like how Brian Wilson tapped the fated Smile sessions for portions of Smiley Smile without the being a generational genius part). However, one takeaway from the process proved revelatory.

In order write the songs for the album, I first needed to identify the twelve moments that felt worth singing about (yes, I know I wasn’t truly limited to twelve songs, as there are no actual space limitations on albums anymore, and really the entire concept of “album” is a bit antiquated, but let’s pretend that we’re back in the heyday of the LP because some of us can’t stop thinking that way). The great pizza I used to get from that guy in East Northport? No, probably not. The ’77 Yankees? Again, no, though I still love ya, Thurm. But my wife causing me to redefine romantic love? You bet. Holding my first child for the first time? No question about it. And so it went. The song about words and music being two of the driving forces in my life. The one about losing my parents. The one about rediscovering home after losing my bearings. The ones about each of the other kids. The one about realizing that the biggest of my dreams had come true.

We could argue about the merits of the songs themselves (or we could if I ever shared the set with you. Who knows? Brian Wilson finally released Smile 38 years after he abandoned it. I’m guessing that’s 114 years for non-geniuses unless it goes the other way if your standards are lower), but the takeaway is pretty impressive, if I say so myself. The process of boiling my life down to a dozen narratives led me to a level of reflection that opened my eyes in many ways. That last song I mentioned, “What I Have Now”, was cathartic in the best possible way.

I’ve used the process repeatedly over the years. When I’ve collaborated with others on nonfiction books, we often start by creating “the album.” When a close friend was considering a memoir, I suggested that she give this approach a shot. It’s my go-to when I need to distinguish between the things I’m merely fond of and and the things that truly matter. I haven’t figured out how to use it to declutter my office, but someday I might.

Meanwhile, I think this totally works as a fun thought experiment. Everyone’s life is a concept album. Maybe not as great as Lemonade but almost certainly better than Thick as a Brick.

So, what’s yours? What would your twelve songs be about?