Growing up, I never considered my father to have a hip music sense. However, he knew how to get our family excited for a day on the slopes. Right before we pulled into the Sugarbush parking lot, he would blast Crazy by Seal into the speakers of our Saab 900. The song stuck in our head as the perfect anthem for bombing down the hill: “And you’re never gonna survive, unless you get a little crazy.”
My mother, on the other hand, had a more gentle ski anthem. Time after time, my mother would sing The Sound of Music aloud while floating down groomed corduroy. She’d sing to herself, indifferent if anyone could hear her. The hills were alive, and that’s all that mattered to her.
I’ll admit that I have my own personal ski soundtrack as well. My car is filled with old CDs with titles such as “Mad River Tunes” and “Belleayre or Bust” but all of the CDs have one song in common: Sweet Emotion by Aerosmith. For me, Sweet Emotion is the perfect tempo for imagining myself in wide turns in good, fluffy, snow. I listen to it in the car, and then hum it to myself on the slopes all day.
The other day, I was watching an old ski movie featuring little more than twenty-something men ripping down glacier walls. Yet, when my husband hopped on the phone in our living room, he muted the sound to the movie. The skiing looked great, but it didn’t “feel” great. Watching skiers fly down back bowls to silence just wasn’t the same. It needed a little reggae. Or a little punk. Or a little Sweet Emotion.