♪♫ ♪ ♪♫

Run
Air
Talkie Walkie
2004

In trying to save money for my post-graduation trip to Europe, I stopped buying CDs.  This was a show of willpower because, all through CEGEP and university, I lived for Tuesdays.  I recorded album release dates in my agenda and made regular pilgrimages to Sam the Record Man, east of McGill on St. Catherine street. (I really miss that store--its uneven linoleum floors; hand-lettered signs; framed, autographed posters; its worn-in appeal).  I couldn't bear the thought of missing out on all of the new music that was coming out, so I submitted a steady stream of purchasing suggestions to the library--Talkie Walkie being one of them.  

Talkie Walkie is one of those albums that immediately defines a period of my life--a time that is still sharp etched in my memory.  As much as Tori Amos's Scarlet's Walk is associated with studying on the ground floor of the McLennan library, Talkie Walkie was Redpath's soundtrack.  Thank goodness it isn't tainted by the fact that I listened to it non-stop while working on the daunting final assignment for the archeology class I was taking at the time (everything about that class made me miserable; I very nearly failed). 

The sound of this album, and of this song in particular, mirrored the way I felt--strange and slightly off-kilter.  The simple lyrics and use of repetition that characterize most of these songs was like salve on a wound; a familiar pattern I could get a firm hold of.  I've always thought (and loved) that the opening of "Run" sounds like the music that plays in a castle in SNES's The Legend of Zelda (haha, no, really though).  Maybe that is why it evokes a sense of danger, of being highly attuned and alert.  The vocals sound digitized, but do not lose their warmth.  The lyrics describe a couple lying in bed; the speaker begs his lover not to leave because, when she does, he feels "sad" and "strange".  Lines like "stay like this/on the hills/of my chest" are so simple, but cement that image so effectively.  I love that the beat echoes footfalls.  Not to sound over-dramatic, but, in a way, Talkie Walkie was my synthetic heartbeat at a time when my own was alarmingly disjointed.