October 18, 2000
U2: Lemon
- and i feel, like i'm slowly, slowly, slowly slipping under...yes i do. shit, song cut off.
Sting: Shape Of My Heart
- freedom in the guitar, soothing, but slightly sad. thinking of rum and dancing and white shirts and hairy chests and thatched roofs and sunsets. Thinking of 30-something women listening to this song while they type the boss' memo and dream of better things, dreading the DJ cutting in at the end of the song. Now I'm depressed.
Martin Sexton: Purple Rain (live)
- wow, Martin finally acts the black man that he should have been. His range shows. exciting. first time for me. a sad song, but one that has odd elements of eroticism in it (duh, it is Prince, after all). also sad as it's a montage of high school, of days gone by, of sticky nights in shitty cars and hands down pants and some beer but not enough to really get drunk on and being bad because you're bored, and that's enough. now i'm thinking about sony - was that a happy time? i think so - such a fresh young face, just kissing and busting ass to move up. could i ever do that again? dunno. scary to even think about it. such fire, such DON'T FUCK WITH ME desire to just be the best damn music person ever. 2AM and you need me - i go. need 100 fucking tapes of the crappiest demo - i GO! and i love it! this is important shit! wow, this is good.
Samples: Feel Us Shaking (live)
- here's an environment i never quite became, but i lurked on the sidelines of. no, i never was Mr. Colorado guy with my torn cinchillas and overgrown hair and winter job at Vail, but man, i wanted to be. i sure miss those days, though...getting high just because we wanted to well, get high...dreaming of the mountains i never really would go to, acting relaxed because being relaxed was the way to be. no, it's not me, but it's sometimes who i aspire to be.
Smiths: Cemetery Gates
- woah, it's 1987 and i'm cleaning off a brand spanking new Louder Than Bombs LP in Jon's "yellow room" and we're fighting over who will get the first recording onto Maxell XLIIs cassettes, as the first, virgin recording, is always the best. my jeans are pegged, because, well, they have to be, and it's 4:30PM and you better believe we ain't doing no fucking homework. stickball, maybe.
Night Ranger: Sister Christian
- ok, now we're getting stupid. now i'm 14 and drooling on my couch as i sleep after school, picking my zits and thinking that MTV will somehow make my teenage years not suck so bad. wow, if only i could sit in the back of that convertible and stare at those chicks coming out of private school. but teenage life was never like that, no. not even close. and yet they still spit out the same bullshit images. oh, how i wax poetic. this song really was the defiition of bad, no? who the hell was Sister Christian, and do you think she cared that they were "motorin'"?
Natalie Imbruglia: Left Of The Middle
- ooh, a hidden track. i'm so damn cool! i wanna touch myself. well, maybe later. i confess: i think she's hot. cute voice, little cute body, little pixie hair - it hurts. totally pop and totally addictive. i'm getting chills. but it's something i can't say....though it seems the other way...but it's the games that i can't play...not today....sunflowers blazing by...in some weird ass Euro-version of a Chevy with the windows down, my soon-to-be wife at my side. we're tan, we're hot, yeah! freedom, water flows with ease, we move as one with the breeze. it's bliss. it's smooth. it's just so damn easy to keep doing this. i wanna hit repeat and just repeat and repeat. but it's something i can't say...though it seems the other way....and it's a game that i can't play....not today.
Counting Crows: Sullivan Street
- i'm running up the Summit hill to my parent's house. i live in that house, which is somewhat awkward for a 23-year old - just depressing enough that i can't appreciate the bombness of the place. i bike on the weekend, i work in a $30K / year job, and i'm starting to think about what the fuck the rest of my life is going to be like. i'm not all that confident, but i'm free. i'm looking out over the smoggy city, looking for a home. the damn earthquake came along and sure shook things up good, and turned my already upside-down life just a little bit more. i just don't get this LA place, and i don't know if i care about the stars and the money and the scene or i abhor it...i mean, i abhor it but i'm a total starfucker and i'm confused....i'm almost drowning in her seed, she's nearly crawling on her knees...that damn Adam is a new york jew just like me but he can express himself like i can't. IT'S ALMOST EVERYTHING INEED.......AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! i just love that part. it's the multiple orgasm of my early 20-something angst. woo. hoo.
Natalie Merchat: Verdi Cries (live)
- sadness. dorms. it's goddamn tufts all over again. my headphones are on, it's about 1:14AM, everyone else is asleep, i'm feeling so comforted that there's thousands of kids around me, with me, and yet i'm alone. it's sophomore year. i can see my fish swimming about their sweaty tank. i date, but i'm not committed. i have friends, but i'm cheap and insecure. my life flies by and it's gone. i'm a little of everything, but not alot of something. i care what you think. jeez, these dorms are small. where do i go from here? i'm at the end of a long path that leads to a field where the path disappears into a field of green...with no route in sight. i'm scared, comforted and at peace. i know what i love but i'm afraid to go near it. i want to cry, but of course, i never do.
Radiohead: Fake Plastic Trees
- at this point, slitting my wrists is one of the viable options. i'm such a sucker for sadness. mr. morose. yeah, that's me. it wears you out....it wears you out. i'm just like these radiohead guys....why aren't i a radiohead guy? he and i are walking through the gray damp streets of oxford, past all those horrible government-built row houses that were devoid of cheer the day they were built, looking for warmth. we're in a foreign country, and it definitely feels like it. the history is just overwhelming. i'm sad. i want mcdonald's. i want my mommy. i want to stop exploring and being manly and