I was reading a great music blog, the fabulously titled http://musicmaven.wordpress.com (not to be confused with this site), and came to a conclusion: It is very difficult to read about other people's favorite music without forever making the connection between them and the songs they mention. I don't know the woman who writes that blog but even from a few entries I've gotten enough information and now every time I hear the Everly Brothers I'm going to think of her mother... well, maybe not, but at least the next few times I will. Music is like getting an ulcer in your eye - it's really sensitive.
I think about this a lot. I'm the latest victim of "Fanbertdom" over on the American Idol front, as I'm sure anyone who reads this blog knows (which as we all know is no one) yet my mother loves him too so I always think of her when he's playing. My mother and I have a huge music connection since she's the one that introduced me to so many of the bands I love now, specifically Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. It's hard to forget that when it's right in my ear.
I think of my piece of garbage ex-boyfriend when I'm listening to "Poison Cup" by M. Ward and I think of my friend CJ when I hear John Frusciante since I first heard him in CJ's car. I think of my aunt when Jay and the Americans are on and my cousin during Fleetwood Mac's "Gypsy". These are all passing thoughts though since this music I'm mentioning is so good - it definitely stands on its own as well - but it does work as a security blanket. You know how blankets get that certain scent of the person who owns it? Same goes with music, scents attach to it well.
I'm listening to "Whole Lotta Love" right now and my god, does that stand on its own. My father looked like Robert Plant so it's hard for me to say that Mr. Plant is one of the hottest people to ever live on this planet, but whatever, I already have a lot of Freudian issues so I'll just add one more to the list. Maybe one day I'll have to scan a picture of my dad on to the site. I've been thinking about him a lot and memories I have of him. I get so choked up, it's almost not worth it though. He was a professional drummer they called "the wolf" with his own business card.
Anyhow, I'm seeing The Shins on Sunday (see how I swiftly changed the subject) and I couldn't be more excited. I'm living a very angry existence right now because of roaches I made a $2200 decision not to live with. James Mercer makes my heart race. So do roaches but in the opposite way.
And to finish up, I'm obsessed with the song "No Tell Lover" by Chicago. OBSESSED. It is incredibly sexy, which is the only kind of song I ever become obsessed with. I should make a "song to love" post about it but what is the damn point? No one is reading this. Just me. Thank god I amuse myself so much. Life would be much tougher otherwise.
Also: The Hold Steady is playing at Starland Ballroom! How did they choose such a noble show? A show I would almost pay to go to.
Okay, one more thing... I've been listening to "The Geese of Beverly Road" by The National lately for the first time since I've fallen in love with them. This is deemed a favorite by so many National fans and I'm starting to see why despite its 5 minute length and very sad horn section that makes it a good suicide record. It also really makes me wish it was Fall and close to Halloween which isn't good since 1. it's not even summer yet and 2. I'll be closer to a REALLY old age once it's Halloween again.
This does lead me to something I must do though. I know this is a music blog and I don't like to reveal too much about who I am other than a lover of all music but since it's the end of the semester at the university I attend and I was deeply inspired by a specific professor and I'm still young enough to get away with obsessing over gorgeous men (which has always been one of my favorite past-times), I'm going to write a little ode to him:
This is off the cuff so bear with me..
Your unbelievable wisdom and intellect were apparent from the first day: I sat in the classroom full of way too much coffee and a poor apparel choice because of the early morning hour thinking I had made a terrible decision in classes when you walked in dressed in a leather jacket later taken off to reveal a stunning ensemble complete with a gray sweater vest and 'scholarly' blue button down shirt. Your tan loafers perfectly broken in and a full head of raven black hair that you slowly, smoothly ran your hand through, probably not realizing that one gesture would invoke a semester-long infatuation. At first I thought you looked a little snooty, taking your glasses on and off and placing them on top of a yellow legal pad next to an expensive looking pen. Then you spoke and were funny! With a strong Spanish accent and very pensive expressions, every word sounded important and deeply thought out with dashes of wittiness and self-deprication. You would casually look at your notes, take off your glasses once again, and sashay across the classroom, never losing your stride. At first I tried to listen to what you were saying but then I got wrapped up in all these little mannerisms - the glasses, the legal pad, the pen you continued to play with - suddenly I was a creepy, old man making googly eyes at a 15 year old wearing a short skirt at the park or something. Because to me, glasses and sweater vests are short skirts.
I'll be honest: intelligent, well dressed, older gentlemen have always been a huge weakness for me but this was a special circumstance. For some crazy reason, your absolutely stunning appearance, whether it was more of the blue button downs, the denim jeans, the strange Texas, suede look, whatever - motivated me to actually learn about your topic. I got an A in the class, spent late night hours on well developed essays, successfully focused on not mentioning you in my end-of-semester evaluation paper by name, and didn't daydream too much about the way you said "bueno" in class (well..).
And I even read your work online which turned out to be some of the best writing I've ever read in my life. That was when my mind shifted entirely. Instead of just blushing at your endlessly amazing collection of professor-chic clothes and the deep lifelines framing your bright blue eyes, I made the connection that you are one of the few that truly are what they portray. Not just another hotshot professor but a man of such accomplishment and intellect that I am very envious. So next semester if I look at you like a homeless person at a filet minon, it is not just because you are the loveliest thing this side of the Jersey border, you are an inspiration.
(take that as a humor piece, please)