Synchronicious

B will never know a life without portable music; on the contrary, the explosive popularity of portable media devices (alongside her good fortune at being born to a pair of tech-savvy, music-obsessed parents) guarantees a scored future. As long as she's smarter than her old man and doesn't autoinduce tinnitus, I'm excited for her. There's nothing like that moment when the soundtrack synchs with the moment at hand, bringing everything into relief.

A couple of weeks ago, I drove my dad to the airport. I was borrowing his car while he was away and while I was grateful for the loan, his cigarette lighter's broken, which means that my iPod car-radio adapter is useless. Fumbling through his console compartment turned up an unmarked blank tape and, crossing my fingers, I popped it in.

I was rewarded with an audio flashback from yesterdecade: the Matthew Good Band's jangly, crashing dissection of adolescent awkwardness, "Generation X-Wing" &mdash great driving song. With the sunroof open and the engine humming at 2500 rpms, life was pretty sweet for the next four and a half minutes.

After the sun had gone down and C had started in on the Sysiphian task of putting B to bed, I dropped my own car off at the garage and was walking home along Sherbrooke street. Aggressive sifting of my digital playlist revealed the Stones' "Laugh, I Nearly Died" as the perfect accompaniment to a lonely late-night stroll.

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And sometimes the msic and the moment are so comletely out of synch, it's crushing: vid Stewart Copeland's reaction to his little indie band's first gig on their current tour.