Some albums are played a few times, then forgotten; others are meant to travel with you throughout your life, celebrating your triumphs and consoling you in dark times. Their music becomes intertwined with memory, keeping moments alive long after the moments themselves have passed.
I am fortunate to have several albums that have traveled with me throughout the years, continuing to bring meaning to my life. These albums are more than pieces of music; they’ve become old friends who I can always trust to be there when I need them. Most importantly, as I’ve changed, my relationship with these albums has changed with me. Music I have known for decades can still reveal something I wasn’t capable of hearing before.
Sting’s …Nothing Like the Sun is an album that has been with me for the past 38 years. During that time, I went from an art student to a working artist, making mistakes, refining my skill, and embracing the vision that has brought me to where I am today. While recording …Nothing Like the Sun, Sting faced challenges of his own, including the death of his mother, a loss he brilliantly articulates in “The Lazarus Heart.” Across the album’s twelve songs, Sting explores pain and grief while also turning outward, most notably in the heart-wrenching “They Dance Alone,” which addresses the mothers and wives of Chile’s desaparecidos, whose loved ones vanished under the Pinochet regime. Sting’s exploration of these themes gave me an awareness of grief that prepared me for the pain I would experience years later when I lost my own mother.
Rolling Stone referred to …Nothing Like the Sun as “a powerful, often hypnotic album.” From the exuberant opening notes of “The Lazarus Heart” to the close of the hauntingly beautiful “The Secret Marriage,” …Nothing Like the Sun enthralls and captivates. As I sit and work, its music wafts through my petite atelier, bringing with it memories of midnight soirees under the Golden Gate Bridge and super chicken burritos from Chabella’s downed with Beringer white Zinfandel.