September 12th: This Day In Music History

Do you know that feeling when it seems like important milestones keep happening on the same day year after year? Although (likely) coincidental, I can't help but to think how or why. It is an interesting reflection; some events may be joyful and euphoric, while some may be filled with feelings of melancholy. This mixture of good and bad can lead to confusion when the day rolls around. September 12th is one of those days for me.

On September 12th, 1952, Neil Peart of Rush fame was born in Hamilton, Canada. If you have been following this blog, or have talked to me even just once, you would know my love for Rush. They have shaped how I interact with the world around me; I reference their music in tough times, as well as in moments of triumph. Neil being the wordsmith of the band, I naturally was drawn to him as inspiration. He is a notable person in my life, and I cannot imagine a world in which his lyrics did not exist. Luckily for us all, they do. Each year when his birthday rolls around I use it as an excuse to revisit his legacy. Although I do that the other 364 days of the year, it feels special on the day of his birth. Although he has now passed, Neil's birthday is a day of celebration and remembrance for me.

On September 12th, 1975, English rock band Pink Floyd released their ninth studio album, "Wish You Were Here." Growing up, this was the Pink Floyd album that I listened to the most. I spent a lot of time with "Dark Side of The Moon," but WYWH felt different to me. I connected with it on a deeper level, and gravitated towards it more frequently as a result. The album has gone on to become one of their most notable efforts, as well as one of the most influential concept albums of all time. Whenever I go back to visit the work within I get hit with waves of nostalgia and am instantly transported to a carefree moment of my past.

On September 12th, 1995, Bay area punk band Jawbreaker released "Dear You," an album that divided fans upon release and spelled an almost immediate demise of the band. Riding the high from their all-time classic 1993 album "24 Hour Revenge Therapy," the band went on tour with Nirvana. In the eyes of their punk fanbase, they were selling out. The fans saw the writing on the wall and feared that a big whig label executive would snatch them up and broker the deal of selling their souls in exchange for fortune and fame. Hearing these worries, and staying true to the DIY nature in which they came up, Jawbreaker began dismissing these rumors onstage, often heard saying, "We will never sign with a major label." Only months later, Jawbreaker had signed with DGC Records for what ended up being their swan song. "Dear You" was unlike anything they had done before - it was clean, it was well funded, and it was recorded over a span of weeks, not days. The seismic shift from their early days split fans quickly. In one extreme instance, fans bought tickets to a show and sat with their back turned to the stage for the entirety of the set. Fast forward to 2018, I stumbled upon the album while at the University of Iowa as a freshman. As the backstory was unknown to me, I viewed the album as a masterpiece worthy of gracing my earbuds every day on my walk to classes. Songs like Save Your Generation, Accident Prone, and Chemistry spoke to my still developing mind. Highly cathartic and influential, I can't imagine my college years without Jawbreaker's "Dear You." As a result, Jawbreaker has become one of my favorite bands, and this album's release date will always hold a special place in my heart.

On September 12, 2003, Johnny Cash passed away at the age of 71. One of my richest memories involves a Johnny Cash CD, my trusty portable CD player, and singing in the deepest voice my 5 year old body was capable of. In the years following I would sing Johnny's songs sitting around the summer campfires with my siblings while visiting my grandparents. These memories are full of innocence, love, and s'mores. Though his music is simplistic in form, his words pull at the heartstrings in ways my young mind could not understand. As I have gotten older his words take on new meaning. The Man in Black's passing casts a dark cloud on this day and leaves a void that only his bass-baritone voice can fill.

While not entirely serendipitous, September 12th is a powerful day for me. I appreciate the memories flooding in and enjoy the day of reflection. Serving as our own personal time machine, music has the ability to take listeners on a journey through bygone time periods complete with the roller coaster ups and downs of elation and woe.