Music and memory hold strong connections. If a researcher were to ask you about music-related memories you could probably answer easily. Think back to a favourite song from your childhood (and perhaps the memories this evokes), how you picked the song for your wedding's opening dance, or perhaps what song helped you grieve for a lost loved one. It is precisely such relations, connections and moments that are addressed, scrutinised and discussed in Lauren Istvandy's The Lifetime Soundtrack. Istvandy concisely, yet richly, maps musical memories of interviewees and presents therewith an extended discussion of how music and autobiographical memories are intertwined.
In popular music studies, a volume focusing on memory and music is much needed. As Istvandy points out herself, only a small body of work already exists on music and memory, yet this is often buried in studies of cultural memory or the sociology of music. Nevertheless, if we look at current trends and developments in the music industry (like the marketisation of re-releases), there is a clear focus on how to (re-)engage audiences and thus memories of a musical past. Think of trends like ‘heritage rock’ concerts, bands like The Rolling Stones or ABBA's avatar performances, or the continuous popularity of decade parties. More so, the revival of Kate Bush's ‘Running Up That Hill’ in 2022, owing to its inclusion in popular Netflix series Stranger Things and consequent circulation on the popular Gen-Z app TikTok, illustrates how musical memories can also cross generations.
Istvandy maps musically motivated autobiographical memories and their relationship to everyday life in richly illustrated and theoretically concise yet dense chapters. She builds on one-to-one interviews that were semi-structured, with 28 young and older adults aged 18–82, of various cultural backgrounds yet all residing in Australia (particularly the region of south-east Queensland, the second-largest state of the country), and offers an insight into how music links to place, family, friendships or relationships, and events in one's lifetime. To structure these topics, Chapter 1 introduces the theoretical framework with the original concept of ‘lifetime soundtrack’. Although the chapter expands Istvandy's understanding of the ‘autobiographical music memory’, driven by the sociology of music, there are few connections to previous work on music and ageing or fan studies, which would have strengthened the discussion. Chapter 2 is devoted to the start of one's lifetime soundtrack: childhood, adolescence and young adulthood. Here, the home and bedroom spaces play a pivotal role in music discovery as the interviewees sketch in their narratives, often linking music discovery and early appreciation of music to parents, caregivers or older family members. More so, this bridges neatly to Chapter 3, which focuses on the emotional investment of music through the notion of affect: complex relationships are unpacked here, from the role of other family members who reminisce about their youth to loss and interactions within families. One very touching interview involves a divorced mother who used to play Shirley Bassey in her home repeatedly, which led to a lifelong appreciation of the singer by her daughters (p. 33).
Chapters 4 and 5 take a small step away from the very personal by discussing, respectively, the technological developments that help store and archive music memories (sometimes also challenging real-life situations vs. those ways in which we remember them), and a more embodied or ‘work’ perspective on these issues. Chapter 5 in particular focuses on the 12 participants in the research who are musically trained as professional or amateur music-makers. This reveals some negative aspects of music memories, which Istvandy succeeds in capturing through telling quotes from her participants. For example, interviewee Ryan, who learned to play the saxophone as a child and was forced to listen to John Coltrane (whose music he found too complex at the time), still associates this sax player with negative emotions today (p. 100). There is also James, who does not enjoy playing covers anymore and whose resentment signals the emotional labour of repetition involved in playing music professionally (p. 105). Contrary to the rather positive music memories in the previous chapters, Chapter 5 interestingly reflects on these more challenging and complex feelings tied to autobiographical memories of music, which is a nuanced and refreshing perspective on the function of music memories in everyday life. Chapter 6, as the last of the empirical discussions, reveals the impact of ageing on music consumption by discussing the ageing body and mind, the development of one's musical taste (e.g. music being a popular pastime in youth, or why a certain song was picked for a wedding) and how this might inform future decisions (like what music to play at a funeral). In her concluding chapter, Istvandy makes a plea for more work connecting music and memory, particularly ‘in a time of increasing availability of music’, in which there has been a surge in ‘the ability to use soundtracks more reflexively than ever’ (p. 140). Additionally, the author claims that The Lifetime Soundtrack offers a conceptualisation of, and a vehicle for, researching musical memories in everyday life beyond anecdotal snippets.
The strength of this book lies in its rich presentation and discussion of the interview fragments: the participants’ narratives are presented abundantly and offer strong illustrations of the notion of ‘the lifetime soundtrack’. Although it is sometimes distracting to read through lengthy interviews, they do shore up Istvandy's arguments and observations. The quotes offer clear and lively illustrations of the theory. Even if the conclusions drawn from these personal memories seem self-evident sometimes, this is because the testimonies are often surprisingly universal and relatable to one's own music memories. This makes this book highly accessible and enjoyable to read, including for an audience outside of academia.
