Why I Hate Music/cisuM evoL I yhW
Sometimes I hate music. It blares out of the car stereo at me, talking too fast and too loud. Carrie Underwood. Led Zeppelin. Pitbull. Pitbull. Cabs and pilots and fighters and machines and tools. Drums. High frequencies. Low-pass filters. Sidechain compression. Tuned backing vocals. Reverbed whistling. Adam Levine.
People I know worked on that record, co-wrote this song, played that beat. Wait, I helped write a song with this guy; he did not credit me. Chart envy. Acclaim envy. Airplay envy. Childhood dreams. With or Without You. I can’t live. Pixies cover Leonard Cohen and it sounds like the Killers. I know too many songs. I know that chord. Pop punk harmony coasts along the PCH in parallel fifths the entire time. Modern country, you give love a bad name. Indie rock, I’ve got a broken face. Modern love walks beside me dancing in the purple rain. I covered this live, played it in the original key. Macho. The sixteenth note pattern isn’t as tricky as it sounds. I’m in dire straits. Can’t live without my radio, radio, do you remember rock and roll radio? Who ate all the mid-range? E, C#minor, A, B. I didn’t stop believing. I held on to that feeling, to the rasp in Steve Perry’s voice.
80s808s80s808s80s808s80s808s80s808s80s808s80s808s
Sometimes I love music. George O’Dowd’s ache. Haggard hearts on a Mexican radio. I plead guilty. I’m on the hunt. I’m after you. Saxophone everywhere. Heat on the street. Billy Idol croons. New bands. Old sounds. Old bands. New sounds. Inspire. I want to write. My mixes can sound better. Didn’t think about letting that much mic noise stay in during the vocal pauses/I love how murky this is/Grace notes on a bone dry snare push their way up to the front of the mix.
Kate Bush. Outkast. Friday, I’m in Love sounds so different than I remember. Beautiful, beautiful, pop. My angel in the centerfold, who can it be now? We can dance if we want to. All night long. The rhythm of youth. The rhythm of the night. Lionel fucking Richie. Did Ryan Adams eat all the good songs? There is a light that never goes out in our house in the middle of our street. Earth, Wind and Fire and a bridge over troubled water. This is as loud as the stereo goes. My god, the breakdown in Video Killed the Radio Star. Sta-a-ah-a-ah-a-ah-ar. I thumb CDs burned and scratched and piled three-high in cracked cases. I hold the stylus down to halt the scratches on the third vinyl copy I’ve owned of Joe Jackson’s Night and Day. There’s always a place for the angry young man. These are the good times. Pentatonic muscle memory. Ground control to Major 7. Lou Reed to me.
If you enjoyed reading this, please click the ♥ below. This will help to share the story with others.
