MUSIC: There's one more kid that'll never go to school, never get to fall in love, never get to be cool

Occasionally, a piece of familiar music takes on entirely new significance due to the way it is used in a film or TV show. Quentin Tarantino is a master of this kind of recontextualizing (if I may use a $10 word) of music, the prime example probably being the innocuous lite FM hit "Stuck in the Middle with You" playing during the torture scene in Reservoir Dogs. Here are a couple of other examples in my life:

An obvious and corny one is Foo Fighters' "Next Year," which was used as the theme song on the TV show Ed. It was more a coincidence of timing than anything else which changed my perception of that song -- just as the title character returns to his hometown after a long absence, so did I return to my hometown around the time of the show's debut. I didn't buy a bowling alley or anything, but still, it was hard to listen to the line, "I'll be coming home next year," and not feel that the song was speaking to me in a new and personal way.

Blind Faith's "Can't Find My Way Home" (which I've mentioned before) was always a sweet and enjoyable tune to me. Steve Winwood's soulful voice over Eric Clapton's haunting acoustic guitar... good stuff. In college, it became a personal favorite, especially after one inebriated evening when a friend and I decided to do some exploration of the Berkeley Hills and literally couldn't find our way home. I kept wondering how long it would take the search crews to recover our rotting corpses, and thinking of that line from the chorus, "I'm wasted and I can't find my way home."

Then I watched the movie Fandango, and the song took on a new meaning for me. The film ends with the loss and heartbreak that come with growing up: A close knit group of college friends, at the conclusion of their last adventure together after graduation, have all gone their separate ways, probably never to see each other again. And Kevin Costner, still pining for the love of his life, has just swallowed his emotions and served as the best man in her wedding to his best friend. After everyone has gone, and he stands alone in the dark on a desert hill, the credits roll, and "Can't Find My Way Home" plays. And now, I can't hear that song without experiencing similar feelings of isolation and heartache. All because of a movie.

A song which became much more enjoyable to me after its onscreen use is Kid Rock's "Bawitaba." No, I'm not kidding. And if you've ever seen the first episode of The Shield, you know what I'm talking about. (If you haven't, go rent the DVD. Now.) I liked the song just fine to begin with, but it becomes a brutal, powerful anthem when coupled with The Shield's compelling anti-hero, Vic Mackey. In the pilot episode, we've seen that Mackey and his cadre of corrupt cops have drawn the suspicions of precinct Captain Aceveda, who arranges for a new cop, an informant, to join Mackey's crew. The crew's big assignment is to take down a major drug dealer. In the final four minutes of the episode, Mackey's crew carries out their raid on the dealer's house in near silence -- with "Bawitaba" blaring on the soundtrack. Mackey guns down the drug dealer, and then -- in the very last seconds of the song, and of the episode, Mackey pulls the gun from the drug dealer's dead hand and shoots the informant cop right between the eyes. Said up jump the boogie.

God damn if that wasn't the most shocking, powerful moment in all of television that year. And ever since watching it, I can't help but invest "Bawitaba" with equal power.

And earlier today, I finally watched Fahrenheit 9/11, which closes with Neil Young's soaring, scathing indictment of the first Bush's presidency, "Rockin' in the Free World." Didn't take much to repurpose it for Bush, the sequel:

There's a warning sign on the road ahead
There's a lot of people saying we'd be better off dead
Don't feel like Satan but I am to them
So I try to forget it any way I can
Keep on rockin' in the free world

I instantly knew I would never hear that song the same way again. Nor, I think, will anyone who sees that film.