thirty-five.

[cabaretlights.livejournal.com]

Where the Fence Is Low
Artist: Lights
Album: Siberia
Year: 2011
♥: Sometimes I have a very hard time letting go. So immediately, so conclusively, some things slip away; some things stay. And stay. And stay. And stay, long past their expiration date, long past the time anyone would consider healthy, long past the time they lasted. I look at myself and can objectively say I don't respect you, not right now, and it won't matter. I can make excuses: oh, the lasting effect has to do with me, with how I have changed, not with what changed me, but my head/heart live in symbols, in deeper meanings, in concepts -- I associate too strongly, sometimes.

The one thing I wanted to do this summer was explore the city and find new cafes, to treat Montreal as foreign, bring my book and my headphones from latte to latte. But Montreal -- my Montreal -- wasn't mine anymore. St-Henri, the Summit, the Boulevard, Westmount Park, Walkley, Ste-Catherine and Gladstone --- connotations connotations connotations. I couldn't go anywhere without a twist in my stomach.

On Sunday, I set out to reclaim those associations.

Sun and running shoes and headphones and a vague destination (Notre-Dame) and Lights' freshly-leaked album.

I walked through St-Henri. I stared James Lyng in its concrete face. I stopped for a flawless iced latte at Lili & Oli, read about the philosophy of science. I walked home through Westmount Park, passing Ste-Cat/Gladstone on the way, taking it in, making them mine.

And Lights.
Siberia is the perfect example of a sophomore album: she's experimenting, developing, and succeeding. The light dubstep elements work beautifully; her voice is slowly maturing, her melodies just as stirring, her lyrics a little more adult.
Lights saved my heartbeat, like Florence, on Stage #3.
Now, she (or her song, anyway)'s going to be my inspiration.
She played this song at Osheaga and I liked it a lot, but music needs its time and its place. This will be September 25, 2011; this will be Indian summer, in temperature and in the twist in my stomach.

One foot on the ledge, I'm feeling for safety
Somewhere between 'sure' and 'I don't know, maybe'
I'm off of my rope here, I'm off on my own here
I find my hope here, I find my own here.

The associations still aren't quite mine,
but Sunday was.
I don't feel quite so pathetic anymore.
I'll get there.

post thirty-six theme

[cabaretlights.livejournal.com]

OOPALAY, sorry this is late! I TOTALLY SPACED on the fact that it's my theme this week, despite like already having it planned and everything. SIGH. I hope the backdating works!!

thirty-five

[amethysting.livejournal.com]

Caught In One
Dum Dum Girls
Only In Dreams
2011

That little performance by the tra-la-la-la-ing group, Grass Widow, we saw on Sunday actually influenced my post this week.  It got me thinking about girl groups and bands and performers.  Grass Widow kind-of-sort-of irritate me because they (intentionally or not) project this weird womanly image.  Their voices are soft and lyrics muffled (because what they say doesn't actually matter); the music doesn't really go anywhere--it is a balmy beach backdrop; they are "tough", but come off more like emotionless and boring-- like see-through holograms.

So, between listening to The Raincoats this week, I curled up with the Dum Dum Girls.  I loved their first album, I Will Be, and listened to it pretty steadily in 2010.  Dum Dum Girls is an all-girl group from California.  And, like Grass Widow, they have a similiar sound--that steady drumming, the fuzzy guitars (and on the song "Jai La La" they la-la-la with the best of them), BUT there is something different about this group and their music.  Their second album is pretty focused on a theme...the songs seem upbeat, but they all touch on death ("Death is on the telephone/I lie and say she isn't home/If only he would make a move instead/He sleeps in her bed") and dealing with loss.  The transitions in "Caught In One" are lovely...they make this song less straightforward-seeming.  I love the echoes of Chrissie Hynde in Dee Dee's voice. 

I like the sturdiness of this song--it is pretty without being flimsy or nauseating or empty.