Peaches (The Presidents of the United States of America song) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Follow the music. I’ll meet you by the toilets.”

That’s the text I got from inside the concert that my friend claimed I had to see. I hadn’t planned on going anywhere tonight, but his enthusiasm was contagious. “Get down here, man. I got a ticket for you. No money out of pocket.” Those were the magic words. I grabbed my keys and headed downtown to see The Presidents of the United States of America. The band. Not the surviving office holders. In case I’m not being clear, Jimmy Carter was not there. But, after a short drive, I was.

I forgot how much I liked this band. That self-titled album from the mid-nineties is full of undeniable jams, many of which they played while I drank beer and sang along. As soon as they started playing, I was having a great time. I was sixteen again, driving my hatchback in the sun while ‘Kick Out The Jams’ played on the tapedeck.

When we enjoy art, we internalize it. Whether it’s a song you like that becomes associated in your mind with driving to your girlfriend’s house, or a beloved book you reread every year and always seems to transport you back to the beach house where you first opened it’s cover a decade ago.

Is there a work that never fails to make you feel good? A book, a song, a picture or a sculpture that has become inextricably linked for you to a feeling of contentment? Is it as silly as a record about peaches and spiders that drive cars?

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