The Remi tapes

A tribute to the lost art of the mix tape, and Remi...

Yes, we can burn CDs and make MP3 files for our iPods, but nothing compares to the glorious heyday of the mix tape.

The joy of spending countless hours finding the perfect selection of songs that would fit on a 45-minute side, timing the "Stop" perfectly and starting the new song at the exact second so you wouldn't have too long of a silence robbing you of precious time later in the tape and even adding just fragments of songs or text.

Making a mix for a roadtrip, making the perfect tape to tell your crush you want to be more than friends, finding comfort in a mix tape when your heart was broken, the ultimate compilation cassette of songs by your favorite band... the love, passion and hours that were poured into finding the perfect collection.

Making a mix CD seems so cold and lifeless in comparison.

While I always loved making mix tapes, it became an art for me when I finally got my beloved first taste of freedom, my '88 Chevy Cavalier.

Remi (named for R.E.M.'s It's the End of the World and I Feel Fine) was nothing spectacular - when I got him he already had 140k miles. He was beat up and antiquated, silver with gaudy blue decal stripes all along the bottom and featured no bells or whistles. He didn't even have a casette player until I bought a replacement, which never fit perfecly and always kind of lounged in the much larger hole where the manufacturer's system used to be.

He had his strange quirks too: You could start him and remove the key - a great feature in the winter when running into the store. On more than one occasion that feature got me into trouble though. If I didn't have enough coffee or was not paying attention, I'd flip the lock on the door, get out, close the door and then realize I left the keys in the ignition, car running.

It became a tradition every new season to make a Remi mix, a tape that spoke of road trips and happiness on the go. They were tuned and named to fit the seasons... "Remi Tape 4: Hopeful Summer Songs" (which featured Dave Matthews "Stay" as the opener. I'm not a fan of the band anymore, but that song still fills me with hopefulness).

My winter 1998 Remi mix always remained my favorite, as it was filled with songs that cut through the bitter chill and was punctuated by Allen Ginsberg's poetry - the opener, Ginsberg's "America" followed by Jeff Buckley's "Everybody Here Wants You."