“Wait, wait…I gotta start the song over…OK, go!”

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“Born on the Bayou” by Creedence Clearwater Revival

As I open my eyes, the feeling of Saturday washes me anew. This song on the stereo can only mean one thing: my dad is making breakfast! Buckwheat pancakes – his specialty. This song carries me out of bed, down the hall…finally, the moment of unveiling as I round the final corner. There he is — in all his weekend-cheer and my little-kid-infused-awe — my dad rocking out at the stove. I can hear this song like it was yesterday. My dad doesn’t do a lot of “singing,” but the familiarity and lyrics permeate his bones and movements. This is his jam.

“Always Be My Baby” by Mariah Carey

Every chance I get, I grab my cassette-player and sneak away. Music has given me that ability: no matter the situation or surroundings…I can always get away. As my finger presses down on the play button, I feel the click as the player receives its command. The music begins to stream through the cheap foam and wire headphones. This song…this is mine. I share it with no one. My first cassette. My first crush. The first five notes, plucked by guitar, remove me from this planet. Encircled by my three sisters…no worries. Encased in a 1991 Dodge Caravan for twelve hours…can’t get to me. I’m with Mariah.

“Sunrise, Sunset” by Bright Eyes

Life sucks as a teenager. It’s, like, the worst. Everywhere I turn, I see something else I am missing. No matter the blessings I have, I can’t help but feel the ones absent…or, as a teenager would say it, “the blessings that have been totally STOLEN from me.” I am convinced that I am slighted and ignored. This song didn’t make me feel better – it just assured me I wasn’t alone. No matter the heart-ache and bitter-hopelessness, crippling and deafening at times…there are 30 million other teenagers who feel as I do. Shared isolation – what a strange thing.

Those are three of the songs from the soundtrack of my life; there are many more. I’ve been surrounded by and affected by music my whole life. Heck, I even met my wife in a singing group – it goes that deep. From birth to earth, I’m all-about that music.

Baby (Ansel Elgort) has lived a disenchanted life: the violent death of parents, foster-care at a young age, crime, debt, a chronic hearing problem. Although he is forced into a life not of his choosing, Baby combats this life by staying quiet and keeping his ear-buds in, constantly DJ-ing his own soundtrack. Music removes him from these less-than-desirable positions. Music is his escape.

Everyone agrees that Baby has a “good heart”, but he owes a debt to a full-time-criminal (Kevin Spacey) that can only be cleared when his participation in “jobs” deems him “even”. What he lacks in conversation and nastiness, Baby makes up for in his driving skills. He is fearless behind the wheel – inventive and decisive. His ceaseless-soundtrack plays right along, syncing each job with its perfect song. He may not be proud of it…but he is darn-good at what he does; his employer (debt collector), on the other hand, knows he has a good-luck-charm, albeit a reluctant one.

Everything changes the day Baby confronts a constant demon of his: Baby talks to a girl! This girl has been the object of his from-a-distant admiration for a while now – Debora (Lily James) is his waitress at his regular restaurant. She sees a sweet, mysterious, handsome young man – not an orphaned, disinclined-criminal with a hearing problem. He can let his personality and charm take center-stage and not his past/problems. He can be vulnerable and innocent. Together, they are vibrant and true…sadly, this is no life for a sweet-heart. As Jamie Foxx’s character Bats says so eloquently, “The moment you catch feelings is the moment you catch a bullet.”

Baby Driver beautifully captures the importance of listening. Baby keeps his ears open and his mouth shut – not your typical ears:mouth ratio. He hears everything – each song with depth, each conversation with clarity, each sound with purpose. Every word he speaks seems calculated and thought-over. It becomes painfully apparent when he meets Debora, who desires conversation – off-the-cuff and flirty dialogue. It…isn’t easy for him. That’s what makes it so cute and authentic; it isn’t scripted and rote – it is new every moment.

Conversation can be an investment and adventure in-and-of itself. Music can be a portal to something different and better. Sounds, familiar and unfamiliar alike, can be welcomed and valued. Each of us has a soundtrack constantly accompanying us, creating the pulse of our life. Listen and follow the beat.

I don’t want to over-sell this movie, but it was near-perfection! I entered the theater excited, but, from second number one, I was captivated. The director (Edgar Wright) has created a notable work-of-art. Every second is pain-stakingly planned. Every action is carefully coordinated. Each cut is seamlessly scheduled. Each sound is placed with perfection. I can confidently say, “I’ve never seen anything like it!” I was in-tune every moment, feeling each note and rest. There is a lyrical beauty to the ebb-and-flow of the movie, never wasting a second but embracing the natural rhythm.

Edgar Wright has composed something truly original and game-changing. It feels like an orchestra – so many moving-pieces but each breathes as one. His vision and writing are virtually flawless. I found myself praising the most unlikely of characters: film editors. I’ve never seen something cut so beautifully – meticulous and smooth. I enjoyed the acting performances by Ansel Elgort, Kevin Spacey, Jamie Foxx, Lily James, and Jon Hamm – each playing their “instrument” effectively.

It is quickly becoming my favorite feeling while exiting a movie theater – how did they do that? I’ve seen the normal – I’ve experienced the everyday. I long for this type of movie = mystifying.