How We Love the Evening
2020 Letters: #11
This is the eleventh instalment of a series, 20 Letters, where I share letters I wrote and sent via the post, throughout 2020 and 2021, to people in my life. Read more here.
Dear MS,
One of my many goals for 2020 is to write and send 20 letters. This is letter #11. Most of my letters have been inspired by lyrics and, for a change, I thought it’d be cool to write a songwriter about a song of theirs that I admire. I love so much of Elliott Brood’s music but Mountain Meadows will always have a prominent place in my heart since that period was when our friendship cemented. “Woodward Avenue” is one of my favourites because it conjures a unique feeling in me that few songs do: artificial nostalgia. When I hear the song, I am transported to a past, simpler time in North America. A booming city — Detroit or Windsor? — of the mid-twentieth century. The scene of men wearing white jackets and wide-brimmed hats and women in long skirts, coming together at a church hall for a sock hop. I have no interest or knowledge of this time, so it’s bizarre that it’s such a clear and specific image. It’s like I’m remembering a black-and-white film or a historical re-enactment from visiting the Henry Ford Museum as a kid, neither of which I can recall actually seeing! The last verse is the most vivid, if you’ll indulge me to quote you:
“And how we love the evening
in gaslight flooded streets
we pour into the dance halls
where the floors jump through our feet”
Music is incredible for producing so many different images, emotions and reactions. Are there lyrics that conjure artificial nostalgia in you?
