When I think about 90s, the first thing coming to mind is almost always a song, most often Trash by Suede.
Britpop could mean a world to a teenager like me, who felt marginalized in a social environment where popular music meant other types of music.
The first thing is almost never the favourite one. It takes time to dig out what favourite means to each of us personally.
I tend to believe that almost anyone’s favourite memory of any time period tends to be an ephemeral moment with family, friends or even strangers, where unexpected yet powerful chains of meaning were revealed.
My dad travelled to Europe in the 80s, when he was exposed to many pop songs of the era. There are two songs that he specifically loved, one heard from the radio on a train, the other from a party.
He absolutely loved the songs and managed to record the latter on a cassette in a noisy, partying environment.
The party music was being played through a stereo cassette player-recorder. Without any other feasible means to manage, my dad borrowed another cassette recorder, placed it face-to-face towards the one playing and managed to record about half of the song with a blank cassette.
Over the years, he would play it from time to time, indulging in his own nostalgic memories. He would always say – Isn’t that great? This is so great!
I didn’t particularly love that song until mid 90s, when I was exploring “Western” pop music through pirated cassettes (yup, then in China, that was how you do it). I listened to everything I could mange to get.
One day I bought a new cassette album and played it on the large cassette player in my parents’ bedroom.
About 20 seconds in, my dad suddenly walked in, looking unconventionally excited. He asked: “Where did you get that?!”
“That’s a new cassette I bought.” I said.
Then he almost screamed: “That’s the song! That’s the one I recorded!!”
I didn’t believe him.
So we took out his old, fragile cassette to compare and that was it — the song turned out to be Head Over Heels by ABBA. It’s indeed the one he always has and loves.
For an ephemeral but overwhelming moment, my dad and I stood there in silence, listening to the song, with a shared, tranquil appreciation for the profound power of music.
That is my favourite thing in my memory of the 90s — father and son sharing a brief moment of emotional triumph over an unexpected revelation that links back to some of the most cherished family memories.
We later found out that the other song he heard on the radio was ABBA’s I Have a Dream.
He still loves them.
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Noah Fang 
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