Fears to Remember

The sounds of the track take me back to all of those sweaty, exhausting nights spent in the Cornerstone Dance Tent.

I wrote about The Brothers Martin — the long-awaited reunion of Ronnie and Jason Martin (Joy Electric and Starflyer 59, respectively) — back in August. A new track from their forthcoming album (January 23, 2007 — mark your calendars) has been posted to their MySpace page. As good as it might be, my fave track still has to be “Fears To Remember.”

I originally described it as resembling a “lighter, fluffier Lansing-Dreiden,” but I think that might have sold the track a bit short. The sounds of the track — those buoyant, joyful synthesizer lines, the melancholy melodies, Ronnie’s wispy voice — take me back to all of those sweaty, exhausting nights spent in the Cornerstone Dance Tent.

It’s the sort of track that would’ve had Nolan (my fellow Opus cohort back in the day) and I screaming at the top of our lungs as soon the first notes came across the speakers, as we danced late into the night with all of our friends, most of whom we’d only met that week.

Hanging on the wall of my office is a gift that Nolan gave me years ago, perhaps one of the finest gifts I’ve ever received, and one of the simplest — a glass-and-wood frame with four pictures chronicling our various exploits. The two bottom photos are from Cornerstone, the very bottom one taken after a night of whooping it up at the dance tent with our friends. We’re unkempt, dirty, and wearing sweaty clothes covered in red electric tape (we were celebrating the release of a new Joy Electric album that night).

Those were wonderful times, almost painfully so, and I know that even if I were to return to Cornerstone, as I keep meaning to do every year, it will never be like that ever again. Indeed, it never can be.

But ah well, that’s what the music is for, what it’s always for. Listening to “Fears To Remember” puts me right smack dab in the middle of those glorious wee hours of the morning, hours spent dancing in what seemed like an endless worship service. I remember all of the faces and names (and, being Cornerstone, the smells), the sheer exhilaration of pushing ourselves past the borders of sleep, delirious and yet absolutely, perfectly happy.

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