Life in 10 Tracks with Erica Weiner
Life in 10 Tracks is a feature series that is all about being injected into a moment in someone’s life through music. In it, passersby reminisce on the tracks that remind them of bad haircuts, breakups, and all of the joyful, poignant moments in between.
Jewelry historian and entrepreneur Erica Weiner founded her eponymous brand in 2006. She started out designing costume jewelry on the Lower East Side, amidst the music scene of the early 2000s. Over time, her interest in jewelry lead to a career selling esoteric antiques and researching the stories behind them, using jewelry as a lens through which to view human history, from the secret language of flowers to the strange and sentimental use of hair in jewelry. Today, Erica lives in the Hudson Valley with her partner and two young kids. Here, Erica shares the song she lost her virginity to, the Britpop that soundtracked suburban drives and a semester in Scotland, and the song that sounds like the smell of New Jersey roads in the summer.
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I met my (still!) best friend Rosemary in kindergarten. I used to walk to her house after school and her late brother, Sean, would be playing The Smiths on a cassette tape in his bedroom. He gave us wise advice when he saw us listening to Guns n’ Roses: “There’s more to life than hair metal. You are too young and dumb to have good taste in music so listen closely: The Smiths are awesome.”
“There is a Light That Never Goes Out” by The Smiths / Listen to the album The Queen is Dead (Warner Music 1986)
It was the early 90s. My sister and I would be utterly bored in the backseat on long road trips. My mom had the genius idea to bribe us to behave with little hourly gifts. Once — again on cassette — I received Madonna’s Dick Tracy-inspired album I’m Breathless and popped it into my yellow plastic walkman. Life was forever changed. I can still smell the hot New Jersey asphalt. This song was a fave. I just listened to it again and realized how musical theatre-y it is.
“Sooner or Later” by Madonna / Listen to the album I’m Breathless (Sire Records 1990)
I lost my virginity to “Summertime Rolls” by Jane’s Addiction in my childhood bedroom one afternoon after school. Is that too much information? My boyfriend at the time drove a 1970s red Volkswagen Beetle, he had a butt cut, and he was a skateboarder. We used to hang out behind the Dunkin’ Donuts and it was really all pretty boring but that’s what the 90s were for me: driving around the burbs.
“Summertime Rolls” by Jane’s Addiction / Listen to the album Nothing’s Shocking (Warner Records 1988)
It’s 1994 and I just got my driver’s licence. With money earned from my barista job at the Short Hills Mall, I buy a black Cabriolet Convertible and drive it around the wooded suburbs with my best friend. We blast this song and fancy ourselves very worldly because we know about this thing called “Britpop.”
“Girls & Boys” by Blur / Listen to the album Parklife (Parlophone Records 1994)
First semester at Vassar College, 1997: my friends would drive down the Taconic and West Side Highway from Poughkeepsie to go to Goth Night at the Bank (RIP) on Bowery. We smoked endless cigarettes, bought malt liquor at bodegas and hung around on stoops.
“Killing an Arab” by The Cure / Listen to the album Three Imaginary Boys (Fiction Records 1979)
In 1999 I spent a semester studying textiles at the Glasgow School of Art in Scotland. That love of Britpop steered me right into the center of a music micro-climate that was unfolding: Belle and Sebastian, Arab Strap, and other bands were making waves and I wanted to be in the middle of it all. I fell in love with a painting student, discovered that I was an artist, and spent Thursday nights drinking £1 Tennants’ Lagers at the GSA student union basement pub and dancing my teenage heart out.
“I’m a Cuckoo” by Belle and Sebastian / Listen to the album Dear Catastrophe Waitress (Rough Trade Records 2003)
I was a camp counselor the summer of 2002. I wanted to go back to my childhood camp in Maine to a place felt safe; I was in NYC during 9/11 and needed to escape. My sister did it with me. We had an idyllic summer listening to Ween. We drank beer with boys in pickup trucks and had bonfires in the woods.
“Piss Up a Rope” by Ween / Listen to the album 12 Golden Country Greats (Elektra Entertainment Group 1996)
I lived in various Lower East Side apartments throughout the 2000s and 2010s, but most of my friends lived in Williamsburg. So much time was spent combing through vintage clothing stores and hanging around in bars. It all was a boozy blur, to be honest, but I was dating a pretty famous musician at the time and we were heavily involved in the EXCELLENT music scene. This song played everywhere.
“Heads Will Roll” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs / Listen to the album It’s Blitz! (DGC Records 2009)
After a sudden divorce in 2011, I moved into my sister’s spare bedroom in Brooklyn Heights and immediately went on Tinder. The first dude I dated was such a sweet, fun intro back into the dating world, and our little courtship was exhilarating. Meeting IRL was delayed because I was going to Penland for a weaving retreat. On the 14-hour drive there, I played this song over and over.
“One Day” by Sharon Van Etten / Listen to the album Epic (Ba Da Bing! 2010)
I listened to this album during a desolate time that also felt hopeful. It’s almost too poignant to talk about, but listening to the song again now, Beck somehow captured this exact scorched-earth feeling of being human and knowing you are going to be ok. The agony of uncertainty.
“Blue Moon” by Beck / Listen to the album Morning Phase (Fonograf Records 2014)
words and images provided by erica weiner, edited by meghan racklin