Anyhow, here is a brief of interesting occurrences this month.
1) I had writing collaboration drama. Outcome to be determined later.
2) I interviewed the drummer for Interpol and am planning to write an interview story, due soon for a publication. I have avoided plunging in because they are INTERPOL for God's sake. I want to do them justice. And every song I listen to by them, old and new, blows my mind. No, more like it shakes the gelatin of my brain, like something jiggling a jello mold.
"C'mere" is currently a masterpiece in my mind, and I'm playing it on repeat because of its cozy melancholy. It sounds like it's a gloomy, overcast day with lots of thunder, but you're seated near a fire. . .And, in a few minutes, like you're walking on a wet moor, soon to succumb to fever, a la Jane Austin protagonist Marianne Dashwood. Not quite as hysterical as Cathy in Wuthering Heights, due to the emotional detachment of the vocalist despite the near sentimentality of his words.
In "Slow Hands," Paul Banks of Interpol makes uncontrolled love sound both overwhelming and clinical:
"I submit my incentive is romance/I watch the pole dance of the stars. We rejoice because the hurting is is so painless from the distance of passing stars."
Shades of the beautiful hopelessness of Joy Division, but then the song gets downright unabashedly, Tom Cruise jumping on the couch, romantic. It would sound like passion, had the earlier sentences not been presented like a court case.
"And I am married to your charms and grace. We just go crazy like the good old days. You make me want to pick up a guitar, and celebrate the myriad ways that I love you."
By the way, there is something hot about guys that use words like myriad.
Part II of this blog will appear when I am less overwrought and prone to verbal risks and linguistic mania.
In conclusion, I must be getting happy again because I'm starting to fangirl more over bands I like.
So yeah, here's that song. . .
>> next song
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