Have you ever listened to a song and had a “that’s it!” moment? Maybe you’d heard the song over and over in the past but the meaning applied to your life in a new way. Or, maybe you were going through some stuff and a song just spoke to you. What’s the song? Who’s the artist? Do you still listen to the song? Is it still as powerful when you listen?
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at the risk of being assumptive, i’m going to go ahead and say that up until this past week, few of you reading this could honestly consider yourselves “proud of the USA” after a eight-year-long barrage of bad news that often felt eternal.
in this great lost anthem, which marries american rock’n’roll sounds with punk rock attitude and sentiment, the mice’s bill fox voices his disconnect with both US history as we’ve been taught it in school and at home, and the present state of affairs. fox directs his angst towards his father — “dad! i’m not proud of the USA!” — as he decries major generational points of contention: blind patriotism, the questionable means in which america was procured from native peoples, and the country’s insignificance when compared with roman and babylonian empires. although fox wrote this song over 20 years ago, it rings timeless as ever, especially the lines concerning fear of the unknown: “there’s a world out there!”
after eight years under a president who’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t read the paper and hadn’t been out of the us for most of his adult life, barack obama impresses with his welcome intellect, pragmatism and worldliness. there’s little that hasn’t yet been said about this past week’s events as we try to assess their significance. but on wednesday morning, as the headlines confirmed the news of his election, the strange thought befell me that — in two months at least — i’d no longer hold the sentiment of “fuck the president.” and all day, i saw people dressed — seemingly unironically! — in patriotic garb. usually for us left-leaning twentysomethings, any display of “patriotism” comes with an air of sarcasm: “america, fuck yeah!” obama’s victory can’t, won’t and in no way professes to solve everything we are and continue to be up against. but the fact that americans felt a change in regime, morale and general outlook to the future was needed on such a universal scale that the conservative old guard couldn’t take that necessity away from us. and i think that’s something worth being proud of.
the mice — "not proud of the USA"
http://www.mediafire.com/?ytnmtd1nzzw
What you're describing to me has happened a few times, but never ever so profoundly as when I heard Joanna Newsom's album Ys for the first time. I loved her from the moment I heard The Milk-Eyed Mender for the first time, and so when Ys came out I got it the same day.
I was going through the end of a four-year relationship. It was with someone I'd been with since I was 18, lived with and planned a commitment ceremony with.
It was an intensely painful breakup for me, very lonely and wrenching.
It was winter in Chicago and I still remember putting that album on and listening to it the whole way through, just still and soaking it in, and then starting it again. Her words, the melodies, the rhythms, *everything* was perfect. Absolutely gorgeous.
I fell deep in love with that album and today if I listen to it it puts me right back there but still feels healing.
I am not extremely musical. I have been in musicals, in choirs, and attempted to play in middle school band (french horn and clarinet, respectively)... but never learned to read notes. Sometimes, when singing, my voice squeaks. I can't control it.
So... I was very, very excited when I wrote a song as a senior in high school. I even wrote the tune.
My "that's it" moment came when I was a camp counselor at the summer camp I had been a camper at for eight years of my childhood. We were singing camp songs around the campfire, and I recognized a tune.. It was the same tune that my "written" song was to.
I then realized that, although I wrote the words, I didn't write the tune to my song. It was the same tune as a camp song I had grown up with.
Oops.
I wrote a song a couple of years ago that had no lyrics and only two guitars complimenting each other. The simplicity of it is beautiful and the mood is distinctly reflective of my state of mind at the time I wrote it.
Quite often I find myself in a pensive and morose state where the healthiest thing for me to do is just cry - but I can't seem to. Listening to that song is the one thing that can push me over the edge. I cry, I feel better. The meaning it carries for me is abstract and nobody else that I've let listen to the song is at all affected in the same way, but for me, it has a very relatable and personal power about it that makes it the most evocative song I'll probably ever hear in my life. Whenever I need to cry, I just listen to that song and I know I'll start to feel better.
When I was struggling with my queer identity and didn't feel like I fit in in the Straight or Gay world, a friend of mine gave me a mix cd with a bunch of female artists singing about women.
In the middle of the cd was Ani DiFranco's 'In or Out.' I listened to the song on repeat for hours. It embodied everything I hadn't been able to verbalize about feeling forced to fit in somewhere.
I listen to a lot of Ani when I get frustrated with the state of the world and how women are treated. Whenever 'In or Out' comes on, I unconsiously start singing all the word. When I realize what song it is, I usually crack a smile. It's such a good memory, remembering when I finally felt sane again after quite a few years.
For my birthday one year, one of my best friends made me a mix cd full of songs by female artists singing about women, female power, feminism, etc. My friend made me this mix because I had recently told her that I was bisexual.
What she didn't know was that I was severly struggling with my new queer identity. I felt like I was being constantly pushed or pulled in and out of the Straight and Gay world. I felt like I had to belong to one or the other and that didn't work for me.
In the middle of the mix, was Ani DiFranco's 'In or Out.' I froze when I heard the lyrics, backed up the song and started again. I bawled. I played the song on repeat. I listened until the words were burned in the back of my head. I never felt more relieved.
I had felt absolutly insane up until that moment. Like I was making up all of the feelings about feeling like I was being forced into a category- like I had to choose.
And here it was, in beautiful, articulate songwriting- I wasn't crazy! Someone else felt this way. And I wasn't making these feelings up.
I listen to Ani DiFranco alot when I get frustrated about the state of feminism in our world today. And whenever 'In or Out' comes on, I unconsiously start singing outloud. When I realize which song I'm singing, I smile.
It's so nice not to feel crazy.
I fell in love for the first time at the age of 16. Then my heart was broken and I spent over three years repairing myself. I found I couldn't trust anybody and I wanted so desperately to learn how to do this again so I could be comfortable with myself and with someone else. After several failed attempts I began to think I would never be able to open up to another person again, never let them see me at my most vulnerable and know all my secrets and fears--really know me for me.
Then it happened and I met someone who seemed to be the most honest, real, genuine guy that truly cared for me for me. This is something I hadn't felt in years and I believe that as hard as I tried to fight it, I let myself fall for him. Until he hurt me too and for a few days I was a complete mess. I kind of still am but not to the extent I thought I'd be.
So when I heard Kate Voegle's latest song "You Can't Break a Broken Heart" I realized that I don't think my heart had ever fully healed, the reason why this time it hurt but just not as deeply.
Lyrics like "so try your best now baby, try your best to break me, you can't break a broken heart" and "no damage you can do now, I'm immune to you now, you can't break what broke apart...there's nothin you can do to me nomore, you can't break a broken heart" spoke to me in ways no family member, friend or therapist ever could. Maybe it's a good thing, having a broken heart-- but probably not. Voegle's lyrics are heartfelt and each time I listen to it (it currently has more than 31 plays on iTunes) I am saddened but get a sense of peace and understanding...music really is the perfect medicine.
I was on the downslide of an acid trip. I heard tanks outside my window and saw concrete walls being built up as humanity continued to destroy and enslave itself. I saw the rule of law, the rule of nature, and all things beautiful and colorful destroyed. Then I listened to "Who Could Win A Rabbit?" by Animal Collective. The song is about vibrance and the rat race of human endeavours. It's about nonsense and chaos as the words begin to melt and the ribs turn into habits or rabbits. The chaos of the song is about what nature is: a manifest is-ness of life. The song is a joyful non sequitir and a hymn to disorder.
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