Tangerine Tales

… once upon a time in 1988, I was thirteen, I remember I bought my first ever CD. „Watermark“.

I had leard the single „Orinoco Flow“ on the radio repeatedly and was blown away by the song. Utterly fascinated.

I think my parents were especially glad that it wasn’t some strange punk rock noise explosion but instead this calm Irish lady by the name of Enya that I played on repeat on our newly acquired CD player. A player my parents had been severely fighting about – my dad wanted one, my mom thought it was too expensive and unnecessary (they both had a shitload of vinyls). My dad went over mom’s head and got one anyway („I have a buddy and he gave me an incredible deal!“) and damn! My mom was pissed. Until she heard her first jazz CD – that a friend gave her, because, obviously, she couldn’t give in and buy a CD for herself (that would have meant that my dad was right).

Some years later, my parents separated, got divorced after 23 years of marriage and both moved into new places.

Guess who kept the CD player though she never wanted it in the first place?
Yup.

It still works, by the way. After thirty years. The damn player lasted a whole lot longer than my parents‘ marriage.

Which is true for Enya’s song, too, btw. Still works, especially with a fresh coat of paint: