You can hear a soft but undeniable thud in the first second of “Annie Waits,” the opening track to Ben Folds’ album, “Rockin’ The Suburbs.” That first second and the entire album that followed set the tone for how I would remember the day on which that album was released.

September 11, 2001.

It seems silly and almost blasphemous to mark the anniversary of that album’s release when today has a much more momentous and globally profound anniversary. But for me and for at least a few other people, that album became our cave for months after 9/11. We were 19 and 20, scared of the future, judgmental of our pasts and unsure of the present. That basically describes a lot of my twenties, and particularly my college days. Discovering Ben Folds was rather serendipitous, because he was the patron saint of being scared of the future, judgmental of his own past and unsure of the present. Songs about crazy girlfriends, growing up, suburban nerds and fired journalists would appealed to us, a dorm full of suburban nerds with crazy girlfriends during a time when J-school seemed daunting. And when you consider that the whole album’s theme could be summed up as “musings about growing up and dealing with the pains of impending adulthood,” it seemed fitting for us to discover the album when we did.

Christmas came and with it, New Year’s Day. The visceral reaction to that day was replaced with an abstract “What does it all mean?” perspective, which involved less crying. My friends and I continued our sequences at The University of Missouri School of Journalism, and quicker than we knew it, we were working on projects for the first anniversary of Sept. 11.

And all the while, we were listening to Ben Folds. I saw him live in concert four times between September 2001 and November 2002. My friend Josh saw him at least five times during that same time.

I didn’t realize until now, but my streak of seeing Ben Folds live ended around the first anniversary of 9/11. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Maybe that album was tied too closely to a period that hurt too much for me to revisit on a regular basis. Which is a shame, because that album has some great songs. Of course, one of those songs is about a journalist getting unceremoniously laid off, and that, too, is not something I want to think of on a daily basis.

When it comes to music and Sept. 11, I don’t want to return to that day. I’d rather listen to Bruce Springsteen’s “The Rising” and return to the summer after 9/11. Springsteen’s album, and particularly the title track, provided a hopeful release for the emotions. If music has to take me back to 9/11 memories, I’d prefer it take me to Sept. 11, 2002.

With “The Rising” and other music inspired by 9/11, I can prep myself and think of it philosophically. I’ve been inundated by enough images, sound bites and musings about that day that I’ve been so overwhelmed that I can’t muster up a reaction.

Memory is a visceral thing. It has its own senses: its own smells, its own tastes, its own sounds. Try as I might to numb myself to certain memories, it is those smells, tastes and sounds that triumph, taking me back in time. Sometimes taking me to places I don’t want to go.

But if I go to the actual music of that day, I go back to the sounds, tastes and memories I don’t want to remember. I can try to suppress thoughts, but smells and sounds are stronger than that. And in the case of Ben Folds, he takes me back to a time before I learned how to suppress things.

RELATED: 9/11 in pop culture