I’d like to say that I’ve had plenty of free time lately and that I’ve just been lazy. Those of you who know me in real-life know this isn’t at all true. I’ve been stuck up my boyfriend’s ass... He’s adorable and he is so super-good to me, I can’t help it. I’ve also been working two jobs, trying to chip away at some of my lingering hospital debts from the past couple years.
I’ve also been to shows. Granted, not quite as many shows as this time last year. But last year I was single and I was manically depressed and I was drinking like, 4 days a week. I was also heavily involved with a music project that is no more (as best I can tell?) But I have, in fact, gone to shows. I have also found myself pondering the more important musical mysteries of life: Now that
Gotye is getting pop radio airplay in the states, does this mean I can’t like him anymore? Odelay or Guero? Graceland or Rhythm of the Saints? If I had only $50 for a ticket to a show and both David Byrne and Morrissey were in town on the same night; who would I choose? And the ever present worry: Will I *ever* see Radiohead live?
I find myself reminiscing about the way I perceived music when I was a child. (I have spoken about this in my ancient format of this blog.) Mostly how extremely literal I was with lyrics. “Don’t go breakin’ my heart” was obviously about
Dr Frankenstein and a patient needing a hearttransplant.
“You Can Call me Al” was obviously a call for help, a literal job posting for a bodyguard position needed for Paul Simon. I was almost always wrong, but I listened incessantly to certain songs over and over again until I solved the mystery of the songs. I spent the majority of my childhood on the floor of my family’s living room with dad’s gigantor headphones and massive record collection trying to solve the mysteries of Steppenwolf and The Beatles. (Don’t even get me started on “Ob-la-di ob-la-da” and where my little kid mind went with that.) Until I was about 7 years old I fervently believed that every time a song came on the radio the band was, in fact, in the studio performing their song, then packing up and leaving and moving on to the next town to play that song. Then my Grandpa died and then I understood the impracticality of that belief. Then I started getting all mopey.
Pathetic Segue into a random song/idea/thing I have been thinking about:
The Moment David Byrne Changed My Life – A brief analysis and editorial re: the Talking Heads song “Burning Down the House.”
This video was one of my favorites as a child. I knew from a very young age I liked quirky. I liked standing out and being unpredictably expressive. I recognized this trait in musicians, artists, and friends very early on. Imagine me, 6 years old, watching Byrne’s odd antics and projected face rolling down the road while wearing a tiny black beret, snapping my fingers, being all like
“yeah man, I dig it.” maybe not literally, but probably.
I grew up, I kept Talking Heads on my radar, but I didn’t lose my mind over them the way I did over
U2 or Moz until much later when Byrne’s solo album
Look Into the Eyeball came out whilst I was working at the Record Exchange. I played that cd to death in the store and was rabid to get the promo before one of my coworkers, which I did. I love that album, it re-kindled the love affair. I retroactively became a massive TH/DB fan. I researched, I read, I watched old interviews and became obsessed with the Jonathan Demme film
“Stop Making Sense” (which, if you have spent any time with me when I am drinking, I am sure to pull out and make you watch.) The live album remains to this day, my favorite live album of all time, even beyond U2 or Moz (followed only by
Under a Blood Red Sky, which, let’s be honest, is practically mandatory.)
Basically, the song burning Down the House is about nothing. It’s just a bunch of random exciting catch phrases thrown together. There are
tons of references to
this fact online. And when I think about this, how I never really questioned the meaning of the song when I was a kid, or even as an adult, and I realize I am enjoying the music for the music, the sounds for the sound, and the art for the art’s sake – voilà. There is it.
l'art pour l'art. Oscar Wilde, Igor Stravinsky and David Byrne. It all starts coming together about now, don’t it? Now go listen to I Zimbra; now go READ about I Zimbra. David Byrne is a god damned genius and my hero in every way. I am lucky enough to have met the man twice now. He is kind and brilliant and I love him… YAY!
In the weird-ass self interview that David Byrne conducts to himself in the special features of Stop Making Sense, I felt my brain grow three sizes like the Grinch’s heart.
“I try to write about small things; paper, animals, a house. Love is kinda big. I have written a love song, though. In this movie I sing it to a lamp.”
On a side note: here are some of my adventures for the past few quiet months.
I’ll be around, folks. I promise.
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| Saw an amazing Talking Heads coverband in Asheville |
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| Had a show at Deep South wherein I screamed at Jay (apparently) and lost my favorite jacket :( |
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| Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas |
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| Met Scott Thompson from Kids in the Hall... NICE! |
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| Took Jess to see They Might Be Giants |
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| Saw Birds & Arrows PLUS Gray Young play a U2 song together and managed to live to tell the story |
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| TREASURE FINGERS! |
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| COC at Lincoln Theater |
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| Chopped my hair off again. Taking lovely pictures, as per yooshe. |
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| Coffee Time with Abe (aka Jess) |
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| This dog is ridiculous. |
