Last winter when Tom and I had Collier’s car on loan while she was in northeast Oregon, we heard a lot of bad songs on the radio. And when I say Portland’s radio is bad, I mean, it’s really bad. Like, the-late-90’s-looked-like-a-musical-renaissance-bad. Anyway, at least 3 times a trip, whether it was a drive to Astoria, or a drive to Trader Joe’s, we would hear songs on the radio that made me very excited because once upon a time, I had the cassingle!
I used to have a whole box full of nothing but cassingles. I like to think they were like b-sides, and I would get especially excited if some favorite song of mine had an “instrumental version” of same song on the b-side, the better for me to be able to embarrassingly perform it at some talent show or other, like my own personal karaoke bar.
My frequent ejaculations about owning so many cassingles eventually became a running joke between Tom and myself that he suggested numerous times I write some sort of memoir (or at the very least, start a blog) about my love of cassingles. I was resistant, unsure of what I could possibly say about so many such unremarkable throwaway pop songs, but then I realized I don’t actually have to say anything! I can simply say I owned it, post some video of the song, if it’s available, and leave it at that. And possibly throw in some banal reminisce.
So in no particular order, I present to you the first of my new series of blog posts, I had that cassingle!, “California Love” by 2Pac. I bought this cassingle at Hastings in Fayetteville, Arkansas one night, cruising around with my then boyfriend, whose respect for me, I think, dropped by about 5 notches after my paying actual money for “California Love.” Well, fuck him. I have fond memories and a better boyfriend now, and he no longer has me, or “California Love.” I still love this song. Even as recently as last winter when we heard it on the radio driving around a frozen Portland, I blared the radio and let my cares wash away. I’d like to say we broke up over “California Love” that summer night long ago, but it wouldn’t be true, even though the story would have a much better ending if I’d made him walk the 20 miles back to his house.