The first time I listened to this track – and I mean really listened – I was hurtling down Mont Tremblant with a snowboard strapped to my toes, white earbuds jammed under a thick black toque and an even thicker helmet. Day three of a soggy and exhausting trip, and I had given up on trying to keep up with my friends. Still a beginner with raw joints and tender bruises, I had fallen on my tailbone and popped back up so many times, it had lost its significance. I decided to master toes and turns, or “The Dance” as my friends from Nantes called it. Calves burning, snow blindness sparkling wickedly into my unshielded eyes, I strained and struggled and suddenly this song came on, and everything fell into place. I spun like a little corkscrew and turned like a champ. After three days of falling, I was doing The Dance and nothing could stop me.
Marijuana – Chrome Sparks (Brooklyn)
When I got to the bottom, it was time to unbuckle my straps and shed my woolen trappings. I drank in this song like it was written specifically for me – like I actually deserved every bit of how it made me feel. Like a boss. I stuffed myself into the back of a tiny car with bits of vacationing equipment poking into my back and lay quietly for eight hours while these two tracks echoed around me.