No. 094 - LCD Soundsystem’s “Freak Out/Starry Eyes” changed my life
A song in a fish shack and a movie star in a Whole Foods — P. Henry’s unforgettable family trip to Vancouver
This Song Changed My Life is an independent music publication featuring weekly essays from people all around the world about the songs that mean the most to them. Created (and illustrated) by Grace Lilly.
Enjoying the series? Support here to keep the good stuff coming 😊
• 4 min read •
I think of the year 2012 as the one I “found” music, but 2014 would be the year that music found me.
My freshman year of high school was notable. The Mayan apocalypse was on the horizon; my sister was entering college in Atlanta, which left my mom and me alone in the suburbs while my freshly divorced Dad moved into his divorced-dad-apartment one town over; and my best friend since Kindergarten introduced me to this free music application called Spotify that, in his words, “had everything but the Beatles.”
During this time, I was listening to the White Stripes while perplexed at my friends’ reverence for Phish at the age of thirteen. I was so overwhelmed at my choices in an ever expanding music library that I liked many bands in name only. The Apples in Stereo, Broken Social Scene, and Penguin Cafe Orchestra — I would linger on their album art while still listening to “America’s Suitehearts” by Fallout Boy. An invisible wall had separated me from unlocking the secret to consuming this treasure trove of deeper, more “adult” music.
2014 was a year marked by more extremities than I had known previously. I had my first crush on a boy after he slapped me across the face then gave me a tender hug to apologize (I can remember the buzzing on my cheek while pressed against his shoulder), my first kiss at a sober cast party after a game of spin the bottle, and my last family trip for a full decade when my mother took my sister and me to Vancouver after losing her job.
What sticks out in my memory is wandering on a misty dock in a gentle rain with my mother and sister, the three of us huddled under a large umbrella as the wind pelted us with icy droplets. My sister had led us to what was supposedly the best fish and chips on the western coast of Canada, a small shack lined with space heaters that provided a delightful reprieve from the weather. While eating oversized pieces of golden fried haddock, I could only focus on the song coming from a set of speakers drilled into the ceiling corners — harsh drum beats that went on endlessly until a sharp drop, leading directly into a cacophony of synthesizers and lovingly offset vocals.
My sister encouraged me to ask the hot young staff member at the counter what song was playing, and I had a hard time registering the answer, “FreakOutStarryEyesbyLCDSoundsystem,” as a real sequence of words.
I arrived back at the hotel and spent the next two hours on YouTube watching videos of the band performing at their “final” Madison Square Garden show, James Murphy getting sweatier in his suit and tie while Pat Mahoney drew from a reserve of somehow infinite energy to butt up against the glitter-pop bubbly vocals of Nancy Whang. This led to my discovery of “Dance Yrself Clean,” “Get Innocuous,” and the rest of a now legendary catalog of Brooklyn-hipster music that would define the rest of my high school days.
There was a piece of me that was left behind at that fish shack in Vancouver, a carapace that my soul emerged from that was more porous and open to receiving. It would be a month into the school year when I accepted I was queer, still years away from the realization I was transgender, but there was a moment of clarity the day after we ate at the fish shack.
I was still reeling from the discovery of a new band to obsess over when my family entered a Whole Foods and my sister pointed out the Oscar-nominated queer superstar Elliot Page looking over the ice cream. She knew that Page was my favorite actor at the time and urged me to say something, but I kept my distance. I had known that he had recently come out as queer, and I was anxious about potentially disrupting a moment of peace for him.
When I look back on this moment now, when what trans people want is to peacefully exist with everyone else, I’m grateful that I allowed him that, even if he’ll never know it.
I will always remember his outfit due to its misguided attempt at something of a disguise. An oversized American flag tank top with a red bandana tied around his head, mirrored aviator sunglasses, and baggy jeans. Knowing what we do now about him, this could have been, more than a disguise, an attempt at gender euphoria.
In the hazy mystique of remembrance, I see a halo around his head, the outline of his body glowing from the fluorescence of the freezer cases.
For just a moment across the store, in the electricity between two trans people who hadn’t yet known what they were, I too had starry eyes. ◆
About P.
P. Henry is a librarian-in-training at Queens College and writer of all kinds. They can be found on Letterboxd @sleeppea. You can read their short story “Mirror” in The Icarus Writing Collective here.
⭐ Recommended by
Sal Kimura (No. 072)
Every TSCML writer is asked to recommend a future contributor, creating a never-ending, underlying web of interconnectivity 🕸️
This Song Changed My Life is open to submissions. For consideration, please fill out this simple form.
Diary 💗 Music in Movies: Ocean’s 11, 12, and 13 🍿
Why I can't stop listening to the soundtrack of Steven Soderbergh’s heist trilogy. Read→
Categories
Friendship • Family • Coming of Age • Romance • Grief • Spirituality & Religion • Personal Development
Recommended
Top 10 • Grace's Favorites • Secret
If you enjoyed this post, “like” it & leave a comment 🧡
If you like this publication and want to learn more about me and my other projects, check out my personal newsletter, Weirdly Good <3
Explore
After a summer of revelation and romance, Angelisa Cunniff still sings along — No. 093 - NIKI’s “La La Lost You” changed my life
After a winter of loneliness, hopelessness, and overwhelm, Alison Ameter knows she’ll be alright — No. 092 - Alabama Shakes’ “This Feeling” changed my life