Current Playlist
I’m down to three songs. Oh well, I guess I still haven’t found my equilibrium. I’m OK with that. I don’t pick the music...the music picks me. Music tells me what I want and need to know.
I’m listening to:
Colin Hay – “I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You”
Remy Zero – “Fair” (both from the “Garden State Soundtrack”)
Mr. Big – “Wild World” (from “Mr. Big - Greatest Hits”)
All three are songs of good-bye. We humans are generally pretty lousy at saying good-bye. These songs do it well. “Wild World” has gotten the most airplay, but the other two are coming on strong.
“Fair” warrants an observation: I listened to “Fair” quite often many months ago. It was a song of hope, then, and I enjoyed it very much. Today, it resonates in a completely different way. Now it is a song of acceptance and remembrance. Neat trick, no? I’ll give Remy Zero credit for coming up with ambiguous lyrics that work for me in different ways. I’m generally not a big fan of obscure lyrics. They literally scream hubris. I think it’s a rather silly device intended to give the impression that the lyricist is so “deep” that only the illuminati could possibly hope to understand (I, myself, prefer profundity expressed simply). Remy Zero seems to have pulled it off quite well, though. The song is like an aural Rorschach test. You discover what your soul is hearing.
Anyway, last night I was listening to these three songs over and over again while resting in the darkness. I fell into a fascinating reverie. I imagined I was riding my bike west on some nameless two-lane road in central Minnesota (hey! it’s my fugue and I can ride where I want…). It is the dead of night and it is raining. I pictured the scene in exquisite detail. I saw the rain sparkling and dancing in my headlight beam. I could feel the wind and rain lash my face. I was riding fast, and the motor was roaring from all four throats. I felt cold, but I was not shaking. The beauty of riding in the rain is that your movements must be gentle and fluid. Several square inches of tire-contact patch are all that are keeping you upright on that slippery surface. You lean gracefully in and out of turns, steering the beast with your knees more than your arms. A cloud of spray envelops you and the night invades your marrow. I wanted to taste the rain in my open mouth. I could picture everything with perfect clarity because I had experienced all of this so many times before. I hunger to find that road and ride in the rain through a dark Minnesota night. All the while, these three songs can play in my head...filling me with longing, melancholy and, ultimately, acceptance. I want to ride until I feel the sun begin to warm my back, see the road emerge from the misty gray. I want to ride until the day breaks fresh and clear and the road leads me to where I need to be.
I’m listening to:
Colin Hay – “I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You”
Remy Zero – “Fair” (both from the “Garden State Soundtrack”)
Mr. Big – “Wild World” (from “Mr. Big - Greatest Hits”)
All three are songs of good-bye. We humans are generally pretty lousy at saying good-bye. These songs do it well. “Wild World” has gotten the most airplay, but the other two are coming on strong.
“Fair” warrants an observation: I listened to “Fair” quite often many months ago. It was a song of hope, then, and I enjoyed it very much. Today, it resonates in a completely different way. Now it is a song of acceptance and remembrance. Neat trick, no? I’ll give Remy Zero credit for coming up with ambiguous lyrics that work for me in different ways. I’m generally not a big fan of obscure lyrics. They literally scream hubris. I think it’s a rather silly device intended to give the impression that the lyricist is so “deep” that only the illuminati could possibly hope to understand (I, myself, prefer profundity expressed simply). Remy Zero seems to have pulled it off quite well, though. The song is like an aural Rorschach test. You discover what your soul is hearing.
Anyway, last night I was listening to these three songs over and over again while resting in the darkness. I fell into a fascinating reverie. I imagined I was riding my bike west on some nameless two-lane road in central Minnesota (hey! it’s my fugue and I can ride where I want…). It is the dead of night and it is raining. I pictured the scene in exquisite detail. I saw the rain sparkling and dancing in my headlight beam. I could feel the wind and rain lash my face. I was riding fast, and the motor was roaring from all four throats. I felt cold, but I was not shaking. The beauty of riding in the rain is that your movements must be gentle and fluid. Several square inches of tire-contact patch are all that are keeping you upright on that slippery surface. You lean gracefully in and out of turns, steering the beast with your knees more than your arms. A cloud of spray envelops you and the night invades your marrow. I wanted to taste the rain in my open mouth. I could picture everything with perfect clarity because I had experienced all of this so many times before. I hunger to find that road and ride in the rain through a dark Minnesota night. All the while, these three songs can play in my head...filling me with longing, melancholy and, ultimately, acceptance. I want to ride until I feel the sun begin to warm my back, see the road emerge from the misty gray. I want to ride until the day breaks fresh and clear and the road leads me to where I need to be.* * *
* * *
posted by Jonas | 11/14/2005 06:06:00 PM
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