Special Sounds; Reminiscing on Queenstown

Ultimately, music is just a collection of organised sound, curated for human ears. It feels far more sacred than that, though. Each song carries a personality of its own. Some, particularly special pieces, act as bridges, with deep roots back to memories you never knew could be so perfectly articulated by a song. Today, it just so happens that I was transported back to New Zealand.

Between the wonky bass lines of King Krule, the glossy delivery of the Marias’ Heavy, and the deeply symbolic What Once Was, the tapestry of what was an incredible trip reforms in my head. I’m back on our freezing cold balcony in Queenstown, in 2024. Beanie on, notes of Tennessee Honey liqueur on my tongue, leaning on the railing to get a better view of one of the most magical sunsets I’ve ever seen. It came and went in an instant, but it was a boys’ trip for the ages.

I can see us walking down into town to catch the bus, after the day prior standing roadside at 5am, waiting for a ski shuttle that would never arrive. I was trying to capture some fun blurred shots whilst we waited.

I listened to a lot of music, on a lot of buses. I stared out as we traversed winding turn after winding turn up towards The Remarkables, with the most gorgeous, sweeping views of the valley town, as the sun crept over snowcapped peaks.

That fairytale orange hue stuck with us all the way up the mountain.

Yes, it was a little icy. But it didn’t matter all that much. I’m not a snow sports aficionado; as long as I was there, carving tracks alongside mates, life was perfect. Let there be only bluebird days! It made the sunset views from some obscure vantage points off the top lift all the more magical.

That was nearly two years ago now and, you know what, it feels like two years is the appropriate measure for that elapsed time.

When we feel longing, we’re always quick to reminisce about how time has sped off without us, passing more rapidly than we could ever envision. But then, on the flip side, passing time during periods of discomfort often feels like wading through molasses. Nevertheless, two years feels like exactly that—two years ago.

Then, if I wind the clock back four years, I find myself absorbed back in my previous trip to Queenstown. Same beauty, but a different adventure. Also, naturally, underscored by a entirely different suite of songs. Shoegaze drones—à la Slowdive—soundtrack my trip from 2022 in a dreamy haze; blurry in the broad strokes, but crystal clear in the minutiae.

Memories are often like that. Little things stick with you, even though the larger context may fade. You forget about everything so quickly and life moves on. Amongst it all, I always find that music can bring me back better than anything else. I can close my eyes and arrive back at those memories. I never quite realise how strong those subconscious connections can be until they hit me. Certain songs have been stored in your mind and assigned with specific patterns, places, and people. It often takes detachment for those connections to re-emerge.

I wonder what music will soundtrack this very chapter of my life? You’ll probably find out in a couple of years’ time.