6/21/12

Something about 12-hour days ending with hot, sticky summer nights makes me want to hear this song over and over again.

The lush and steady rhythm guitar part reminds me of thick, heavy trees in the dark; that slide after the chorus reminds me of driving down the lake to that hard-to-find-in-the-night cabin; the words make me wish I was holding someone's hand who understood the meaning the same way I do.

We're all tired, worn, beat, afraid of one thing or another. It's not easy to "make it" these days, even in the eyes of yourself, much less the world. The former, to me, is the much  more important standard, when it comes to what matters.

But it's hard to walk by a row of mirrored windows without glancing at yourself at least once.

For whatever reason, I am beating myself up less tonight than normal, and failing to fight the tired. Instead, I listen, drink and dream. It's true, I am this sentimental. At the least, I've stopped apologizing for it. At the most, it's making all the difference.

If only it wasn't so often interpreted as weakness.

"Oh this earthquake is shaking our hands
Free at the wrists just as we started a dance
The hardest thing next to diamond rings
Is the coats we have to wear just to make ends meet
I got this year and fifty more to beat
It's enough to make you give up, she says
I know, I know, I know...so let go

As we sleep in this broken Cadillac
We watch the world leave

It doesn’t look back
I gotta say that, when my heart attacks
Don’t return it, it will fire right back
So let’s just lie here as they paint us black

The nervous ticks only the holy get
The country treats as the cities get sick
The lunatics and the Harlem tricks
The country treats as we all get sick…"
~American Low

Cassino, Sounds of Salvation

6/18/12

"The sun lays low on a solemn city
All I see is sexual red
The last rays burst through between the train cars
And shine directly on my head

So come and find me in this moment
And expose a passionate man for what he is
We'll cut loose our gold
Cause we need fire
And only kindling can buy it
Wildness is our treasure
So boldly surrender
To me and to the night

On the lash
And lashing out
It's evil's sway tonight

A candle's pulse is no companion
When all you see is sexual red
You burn away your dreams inside a journal
And leave those primal words unsaid

I'll run to find you in this moment
And expose a passionate woman for what she is
We'll cut loose our gold
Cause we need fire
And only kindling can buy it
Wildness is our treasure
So boldly surrender
To me and to the night
On the lash
And lashing out
It's evil's sway tonight"

~Evil's Sway 

Japandroids, Celebration Rock

Doesn't this song just make you want to live faster? Make you want to give in to temptations hidden somewhere deep in your ribs? Tough, thrashing, raw, everything about this song screams wild, yet stings of vulnerability.

So tired of realizing, oh, yes, everyone *is* a coward. In fact, the only man I ever loved who proved to me that he could stand up for what he believed in, is written off by the world.

What does that tell you about our society's priorities, and the insecure paranoia of the weak to control?

I may be insecure, and paranoid, but I'm not weak. You don't have to know me well to see that.

I know better than to mistake vulnerable for weak, and yet the world remains guarded. But I've learned to know better than interpret rebellious moments as conviction, so I say take it where you can get it.



Sidenote: I read some archives on this blog over the weekend. Nine times out of 10 in 2008-2009 I wrote about nonsense, but every now and then, I surprised myself. Then again, 2010-2012 has had a fair share of nonsense, too.

6/15/12

The song just stills my heart. It freezes me. Puts me in a moment I remember somewhere back in my mind beyond the to-do lists and present paranoias, past the judgement and despisement...somewhere where love and safety and happiness were synonymous, somewhere where I never thought I would be.

I do not think that is a feeling that you duplicate. I am not holding out much hope. But I suppose that's why sad songs are good for the soul. It means maybe something else is out there.

"Desire has known us well
Living dreams is living hell but
They brought us through the times

I wanna light myself on fire

I spent thirty years not knowing you
I can't afford to waste more time
Running 'round the world
When all I know is you're my girl"

~Girl 

Lovedrug, Wild Blood

6/15/12

I'm probably making this judgement with far too much rash, speedy assumption behind it, but "Sythentica"  probably isn't as good as "Fantasies."

Not even sure how I feel about Metric, they sort of fit into a scene I don't know much about, but I do know I like several of their songs I've heard here and there over the years. I know who Emily Haines is. This song I like especially. It's afraid, brazen, tense.

I'm sick of watching people being too afraid to be real for five seconds. It's socially acceptable in far too many situations, most of which are probably holding everyone back.

Then again, who am I to say I've lived out my every whim? Who could say I'm not the scardest one on the stage?

"I tremble
They're gonna eat me alive
If I stumble
They're gonna eat me aliveCan you hear my heart
Beating like a hammer
Beating like a hammer

Help I'm alive
My heart keeps beating like a hammer

Hard to be soft

Tough to be tender
Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train
Help I'm alive
My heart keeps beating like a hammer
Beating like a hammer

If we're still alive
My regrets are few
If my life is mine
What shouldn't I do?
I get wherever I'm going
I get whatever I need
While my blood's still flowing
And my heart's still
Beating like a hammer

Beating like a hammer..."

~Help I'm Alive

Metric, Fantasies

What did the critics say? 

6/12/12

When you start yelling at the computer about bad headlines on local broadcast websites, you know you're overtired.



This is when "Your Favorite Weapon" comes in handy, during that minute when you need to curse loudly at the world and most everyone in it. When you have to roll your shoulders back, hold your head like royalty, and go about doing your own thing.

" Call 911.
I'm already dead but someone should be caught
and held responsible for this bloody mess.

Call homicide. Take the case to court.
Her lips taste like a loaded gun

and I'm her number one chalk outline on the floor."

~Sudden Death in Carolina

Brand New, Your Favorite Weapon