I really understand the satisfaction of finding a song that's been stuck in your head, but you just can't remember the name. You hum it to everyone you know, but no one can figure out what it is (or, they make fun of you because you got the words so, so wrong).
Eventually, when you find it, there's a sense of relief. Even when the song doesn't become your personal anthem, you've found it, and that counts for something.
Meet this man from Congo. Him and his mother had a tape that they had got from a Chinese grocer there, and they used to listen to it all the time. They emigrated to South Africa, and the tape was lost along the way. After his mother passed away, he looked for the song that reminded him of her. But he couldn't find it.
During his 20 years of working as a cab driver, he would ask many of his foreign passengers if they knew the song after humming it to them. Twenty years later, someone recognized it. This is him reacting after hearing that song again.
The point isn't the song, but what it represented to him, and how he felt he lost some big part of his memory by losing the song. I've felt betrayed by music, but I've felt more betrayed by myself by forgetting songs. I felt that I'd let myself down when I didn't have a backup of my music collection. When I didn't have all the songs I'd put on that awful, mean CD I made for Jimmy, and I couldn't remember their names because I'd tried to forget.
So many of our memories are linked the songs and the sounds that we've used to tether them to our minds. Don't forget your music, kids.