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Wednesday, June 28, 2006
My mind is absolute muck right now. I suppose it doesn't help that I'm lounging in a comfortable chair and I smell like smoke from work. I just feel...ick. It's a mix of understimulation, antisocial behavior, and the lack of people or things in general that has placed me in a vacuum. I'm thinking, but nothing very notable.
Which is why I'm going to post. I need to flush the noodle; a mental oil change.
I shall ask you a question: are the certain songs that put you in a mood that is somehow contradictory to the intended tone of the song? For example, "Your Redneck Past," which is the least serious and personal song off of Ben Folds Five's "The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner" conjures up nostalgic feelings within me. If you don't know already, the song is about consumerism and hiding your true identity. What gives? It's the melody, I suppose. The piano part in the song, although upbeat, almost sounds lonely.
It shouldn't suprise me that things like this should happen. In most cases, when I listen to songs, I listen to the music first. Obviously, lyrics are important, but what about jazz or classical music? It's fairly easy when looking at someone to determine whether they're a lyrics or music first person, even though you and I know both that it's a little more grey than that.
Most likely, those who are reading this are chums of mine, and know (or have lived through, and for that I am so sorry) about my exhausting 9th grade Weezer obsession. If you don't know me, or somehow doubt the existence of this past era of delusion, look towards the beginning of my archives. It's sick.
For instance, my favorite Weezer song, "Only In Dreams," does not have the greatest lyrics. It includes the line "crush your pretty toenails into a thousand pieces." Yeah, I know. However, the drive, crescendo, dynamics, and overall atmosphere that the song creates is astounding. When the song climaxes, it feels, well...rewarding. As if the rock gods that you've been paying homage to with heavy air guitar for the past 6 minutes are paying you back ten-fold.
The mood is undeniably inviting and downright human. It's a blend of hunger, despair, hope, and inevitable dissapointment. Even though the journey of the narrator is made in vain, the journey is made nonetheless, and you can sense that the leap is still gratifying even if it leaves him with an empty stomach hinted by the final resolve.
The song still gives me chills whenever I listen to it, and I'm not even embarrassed to admit that...on this blog that no one reads...
Whelp, time for a movie viewing part for three: Me, Myself, and Ice cream. Cheers.
9:38 PM | Jacquie |
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Me in a tree. Circa 1990.
Blog Buddies.
Fight the Boredom!
Ancient Ramblings.
End Credits.
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