twenty-nine.

[cabaretlights.livejournal.com]

Hours
Artist: Evaline
Album: Woven Material
Year: 2011
♥: I have not had a good summer. Well, I mean, define "good" -- most people look at me strangely when I say that, especially after explaining that it's been one carefree day after another (especially my "drunk or hungover" stage in July) -- friends, wine and g&ts, books, sunshine, good food, free time. But "good" has to be defined on your own terms -- and I didn't have a good summer. That doesn't mean it wasn't an important summer -- but I've felt that I've been waiting.

I hate waiting.
The only good kind of waiting is when you are standing on a precipice, about to take a step, about to fall. This summer has been a kind of relaxed, sitting-back-on-the-platform, letting-things-brush-by waiting. I have not been waiting on my own terms, and that's the difference.

I sat in that cafe in Mile End, before we met up on Friday evening, and I was just so frustrated with myself, as I've been all summer. I've figured out a lot about who I am, but I can't figure out how to get back to who I was. Harlan Ellison wasn't helping, the hipsters biking by weren't either, and then my iPod shuffle came through, for once: Hours.

It starts fairly altrock typically, but in that powerful genre I tend to devour, so I didn't hit skip. I loved his voice, how he warbles the first few lines. I loved the layers, the whining guitar, the abrupt shift to a quiet verse ------- and then the chorus.
You know, by now, that I am a sucker for a certain type of hook. My sister can pinpoint songs I'll like based on the notes in the chorus hook; certain melodies just pull me in and break me down -- the chorus to Hours is one of them. Couple it with lyrics that are EVERYTHING I need to hear at a particular moment:
Uncover your eyes, uncover your ears
Uncover the endless hours spent on --
You're waiting around for something new
You're waiting to be used.
My heart stopped beating for about ten seconds.

Time to stop covering my eyes. Time to stop waiting.
Music as revelation. Music as so powerful you can't ignore it anymore. Music as written for you, even if it's not written for you. Music as kinesis.


Am I back to who I was? No. I'll never be that person again. Is this summer any "better"? No. It was a mindfuck. But Evaline, you Placebo-endorsed piece of art rock -- thank you for the reminder that that doesn't matter. Life often sucks, everything changes: but at least you don't have to delude yourself, and at least there's always something beautiful to keep you going.

twenty-nine

[amethysting.livejournal.com]

Fuck You, Stupid Bitch
Deep Dark Robot
8 Songs About a Girl
2011

I happened upon this song awhile ago, actually.  I think my iPod likes it because it continually pops up on shuffle.  The sound of this song reminds me of Louis XIV or Eagles of Death Metal or some kind of long-haired classic rock band playing in a scuzzy bar on a Tuesday night.  I think that, and the chorus, is kind of what drew me in.  Oh and the weird voice; Linda Perry's (of 4 Non-Blondes fame) almost-whine.  It's the kind of song that makes you want to take a swig of Jack (from the bottle) and yell out, "Yeah!  Rock 'n Roll!".  Or, maybe that is just me. 

I decided I was going to post this song on Monday because it so aptly reflected my mood.  Then Wednesday rolled around and I thought it was a little too gauche, too angry, too obviously in your face.  But, alas, by the end of a long day, and after slipping on my headphones and hearing that jangly guitar opening I decided I would go ahead and post it. 
The first few verses sum up the Geoff situation pretty well, I think, which is around the time when I first heard the song:

"And now I'm left here speechless
With my foot in my mouth
And a fairly overactive mind
Now you've got me feeling shame, shame, shame,
Fuck you, stupid bitch"

I love how the way a song applies to your life (or the way you choose to interpret the lyrics to make it apply to your life) changes all the time.  Right now I'm not listening for the relationship context and am just stuck on the "fuck you, stupid bitch" aspect--irregardless of what area of my life that applies to (it's applicable to so many things!). 

It's a darn good walking song--it manages to put a little bounce of confident attitude in my step when I'm feeling the exact opposite.

post THIRTY theme

[amethysting.livejournal.com]