In Praise of the mix CD.

The book below has started me thinking about several things. Hal and Lenore exchange mix CDs and there is something about the mix CD, and I think that in this case it does have to be the physical object rather than the downloaded playlist, that is very tied up with the whole idea of courtship. Obviously this is a not particularly original idea, but it is one that has been much on my mind these last few days.
  For anyone who has the slightest interest in music making a mix CD for someone is an exercise in what to reveal and what to conceal. I guess that in this way it can be viewed as a metaphor for the whole tentative, early stages of a romance. To clarify, I have, in the past ,received mix CDs from friends,casual acquaintances, and various folk with zero romantic interest in me whatsoever.These have introduced me to some of my favourite songs ever, and to groups and artists that I now hold dear to my heart. I'm not claiming that anyone who ever sent me music was secretly a little bit in love with me, just that if ones' intention is to woo via the medium of lo-fi balladry that it becomes a whole lot more complicated.
 The point of using someone elses words to say what you would like to say is that the someone else is always funnier, cleverer, and more articulate than you. If you could write like Nick Cave there would be no need to make a mix CD. Also, emotions, especially when they are new to us and we are in the throes of a first love are singularly terrifying. We fear that we are dull, gauche, repulsive, and worse than any of these, uncool. If the mix CD is a window into the soul it is a window that has been dressed and distorted to present the sender in a way designed to endear them to the recipient.
If the mix CD starts life as an offering it is often destined to end it as a relic, a reminder of times and people long gone. This is often bittersweet. The truely dedicated can spend hours on a mix CD, designing sleeve notes and cover art. That this slaved over object often ends up consigned to a box in the attic only to be found when the erstwhile loved one is packing up their stuff to move on is quite heartwrenching.
My own relationship with the mix CD is complicated. In the past I tended to have relationships with boys with developed fanboy tendancies.One boy once gave me two carrier bags full of music just a few weeks into our courtship. He was fond of the grand gesture but inarticulate. In retrospect this may have been the only way he could tell me about himself. I was smitten, and spent many hours listening to stuff as diverse as early Kate Bush, Tim Buckley and Napalm Death. Some of it stuck.A lot of it didn't. Another, very serious, slightly patronising boy seemed to be on a one man mission to make me more cool than I ever had it within me to be. He was very serious about music and clearly it was important that I, as his girlfriend, reflected this aspect of his life.Gifts became fraught with fear. One Valentine's day he gave me a copy of The Marble Index by Nico. If you're unfamiliar with this work, Songs for Swinging Lovers it aint.
 The irony of all of this is that my lovely husband and I never exchanged mix CD's at any stage in our sinfully brief courtship. Almost from day one we were both convinced of the fact that the other one was cursed with the worst taste in music that anyone ever had. If we ever separate we will never need to have the dividing the CD's discussion. It matters not a jot. He once presented me with a Justin Timberlake CD with strict instructions not to play it when he was in the house but the point is it was an honest gift with no agenda or backstory. Looks very strange in amongst my Tindersticks CDs but I do love a bit of Justin.... something that the Nico boy would find unforgivable.