My favorite song is Built to Spill’s “Carry the Zero,” a go-to answer whenever I am asked about the topic. Although I constantly cycle through tracks which evolve from transitory obsessions into works of fluctuating interest, a distinction is drawn between infatuations and all-time favorites. Favorites seem to necessarily begin their lifespan in the prior realm, yet are imbued with staying power and continuous relevance to one’s listening habits; the accumulation of experience here is pertinent to their status. Extensive emotional connection to the song might therefore appear paramount, given that favorites contain years-long appeal and relevance to one’s life.
This model of interpretation seems reasonably applicable to some cases, yet I struggle to map my own favorite song onto this structure. I am led to believe that there is another component behind a favorite piece of music, rather than the context of its discovery or personal meaning. In fact, prior to this article, I could hardly claim to know what the song’s mathematical metaphor was about. I had the words memorized, but my attention always drifted toward their melodic potency rather than any communicable lyrical content. I associate the song with my burgeoning interest in ’90s indie rock, yet I remember little of the original listening context aside from it being during the earlier stages of quarantine. An exciting narrative is possible, but it would feel artificial compared to the dull reality of that situation.
My previous favorite song was Yes’ masterpiece “Close to the Edge,” a sprawling, 18-minute epic which contained various passages that immediately floored my 14-year-old self. This sense of revelation was not present in “Carry the Zero,” despite my eventual recognition of its appeal. According to Last.fm, I first heard the work on May 29, 2020, only beginning to listen to it regularly 79 days later; I have no recollection of what happened during this period and what reignited my interest in this track. This gap is a relevant divide between these two experiences, given that the space between first and second listen of “Close to the Edge” lasted under two weeks, a factor I would attribute to its extensive length. Similarly, it took until sometime during 2022 for me to recognize that “Close to the Edge” was no longer my top song pick, making “Carry the Zero” seem as if it originally lacked the instant experience of quality necessary to its designation as the favorite.
Of course, “Carry the Zero” does provide emotional catharsis and sonic engagement to me as a listener; I could never understate its continued power in that regard. However, the lack of a touching story underlying its place as a favorite piece of music feels baffling as someone whose life has been shaped and soundtracked by my listening. YouTube user DP-nr6xi states: “I’m 48 and I love it!! Skateboarding brought me all this music!! I’ve been skating for 40+ years and I still get emotional if not more when I hear this or anything that brings me back to the good life! Life is precious, enjoy all of it, seriously, it’s a fucking trip!! I’ll be gone one day but at least I can say that I lived!!”
This is a traditional sentiment behind musical memories, and I find it endearing even without ever meeting the individual. Despite my discovery of this song during the pandemic, some of these elements ring true, yet I also associate the work with my everyday evolving existence; the good, the bad and the mundane all congeal here. I do not enjoy all of life like DP-nr6xi does, but I do enjoy every listen of “Carry the Zero.” Rather than taking this commenter’s approach, it would be more fitting to analyze what I hear in the sound of “Carry the Zero” and examine its long-lasting appeal to myself.
It is conceptually unsatisfying to dismiss our favorite songs as relative, subjective choices outside of broader trends which influence that decision-making process; we can certainly identify relevant factors which shape these choices. However, the frustrating impossibility of summarizing a singular approach to understanding this phenomenon is relevant to the instrumental component of musical creation, lacking the representational quality of textual or visual art. Music is slipperier than other artforms with regard to the evasion of intended meaning and purpose, enabling decoded receptions which veer from dominant interpretations or pressing themes. This is still possible in other mediums, as visual and written work can be non-representational. Despite this, I find that as a writer, communicating their emotional value and aesthetic qualities is an easier undertaking. Music leaves itself open, and the means by which we understand our favorite songs should be regarded similarly. Lyrics may not even correspond to one’s life in order to remain impactful. Built to Spill’s vocalist Doug Martsch sings “And now it’s coming back / Hasn’t it come too far?” on “Carry the Zero,” yet this could not be further from the truth regarding the work’s continued reappearance in my life. I wonder what my next favorite song will be, and I eagerly await the variable means by which it will come about, if at all.