The Loss Of Summer

What used to be my favorite season of the year has now become the season that I dread. I like the heat. I like wearing shorts. I like baseball, drinking outside during the day and the beach. The summer is also the time where I like to slow things down. Unfortunately the late teen/early 20's version of Slice just assumed everyone else felt this same way when planning out the rest of his life. It's disheartening to learn that it's not the case.

Today is the day that New York teachers finish work for the summer. Now for two months I'm going have a constant reminder of how I fucked up by not becoming a teacher. Not only do I have a few friends who are teachers (who are nice enough to send me text messages during the day telling me how awesome it is not to be at work), I'm engaged to a teacher so it's now right in my face 24/7.

Although it'll be at the forefront of my mind every second of the summer I'll try to keep it out of the blog. I even get tired of hearing my self complain about it out loud.

Hold Steady on Sunday!

Getting Inside Hymn -- Ocean of Noise

First off, I think I may need to further explain my selections for 'Getting Inside Hymn.' It's not solely based on one particular thing, be it lyrics, music or instumental or vocal proficiency. Granted, any combination of the aforementioned usually are a huge factor in transending a 'song' into an 'experience.'

The best songs, I think, can create a mood: romantic (Sinatra), relaxed (Jack Johnson), fun (New Pornographers), pensive (Sigur Ros). Of course, bad songs can elicit an emotional response, too. But not the ones that I like to feel, save the conflicted feelings I get when hearing 'I Kissed A Girl,' my summer '08, 'fat girls and mopeds' guilty pleasure.

So, in the lamest of distinctions, I don't just hear a good song... I feel it.

One of the more recent tracks that broke through the senses was 'Ocean of Noise,' by Arcade Fire. The album from which it derives -- Neon Bible -- is rock solid. It's well crafted, ambitious and dramatic in the best possible way. To me, the drama is most amplified in 'Ocean of Noise' (with Intervention, and it's Pink Floyd- bleek lyrics via a children's choir a close second). The lyrics of my favorite track are pretty solid on their own merit:

In an ocean of noise,
I first heard your voice,
Ringing like a bell,
As if I had a choice, oh well!

Left in the morning
While you were fast asleep,
Into an ocean of violence,
A world of empty streets.

You've got your reasons,
And me I've got mine,
But all the reasons I gave
Were just lies to buy myself some time.

In an ocean of noise,
I first heard your voice,
Now who here among us
Still believes in choice?
—Not I!

No way of knowing
What any man will do,
An ocean of violence
Between me and you.

You've got your reasons,
And me I've got mine,
But all the reasons I gave
Were just lies to buy myself some time.

I'm gonna work it out.
'Cause time won't work it out.
I'm gonna work it out.
'Cause time won't work it out for you. I'm gonna work it on out.

I gotta say, 'You've got your reasons, And me I've got mine, But all the reasons I gave Were just lies to buy myself some time' is some real good shit on the page. But when the lyrics are married with the slow-burning, haunting build of the music, the listener (or me) is transfixed.

The mood it elicits is a mixture of lust and loss (call it 'luss'). It's four-plus minutes of yearning and self-reflecion (or is it denial?) drenched in lovers' sweat. I want to have sex to this song, but I fear being crushed in its emotional wake. Not to mention the four-plus minute running time... I'm no superhero.

Getting Inside Hymn

I love music. If I had to choose between being deaf or blind, I would give up my eyesight only because I couldn't imagine a songless world. Plus, being blind would greatly increase the talent pool, rendering any woman with less than a discernible amount of facial hair a ten.

Given the fact that I'm willing to relinquish my vision, it's obvious that music has a profound effect on me. Not all music, mind you. I'm indifferent to 90% of the stuff that people listen to, and if it elicits any emotion, it's usually anger. I don't think of myself as a music snob... I'm not comfortable being painted with that brush. But I do have a certain prerequisite -- a buy-in factor -- to enjoy music. Being introduced to the Beatles at an early stage (and henceforth convinced that they are the best introductory course in music) in my development, I am a sucker for good melody and tight song structure. The Beatles discography is really a microcosm for my musical development. From straightforward pop (Meet the Beatles), to more challenging, boundary-testing fare (Rubber Soul, Revolver), to experimental (White Album), to the lavishly produced (Let it Be).

The list of favorites are too long to list and, frankly, too boring to read. However (and this is the point of my new blog series... I can't believe I typed 'blog series'), there are some songs that I find so transfixing -- so otherworldly -- that I almost want to climb inside it for its duration. It's a four-minute vacation -- a brief respite -- from the confining walls.

A great song can make you disappear completely. Unlike being blind, where everything else disappears completely.

Upon further review, I really hope I never have to make that decision.

So, that's the premise. Each installment will take a song and explain why I want to live in it. Given that I've threatened to start this series for four months now, I will be happy if I make it past three installments. Three counts as a series, right?

Tune in (you see it!) soon as I attempt Getting Inside: Ocean of Noise by Arcade Fire.