not what you wanted

Song of the day: Black Rebel Motocycle Club / Not What You Wanted

http://www.last.fm/music/Black+Rebel+Motorcycle+Club/_/Not+What+You+Wanted

You know you've got a lot to learn
You feel it but your heart won't burn
The fear is runnin' every nerve
You're turning to the ones you've hurt
But nothing ever satisfies
You're screaming but your tongue's still tied
You're starving but your love won't feed
And nothing ever sets you free

You know you've got a long way down
You'll feel it when you hit the ground

It's not what you wanted
It's not what you came here for
This place just leaves you cold
Where nothing matters

Pinned inside the walls of sound
You're reaching but your hands are bound
Crying but your love's so sweet
Your singing but your heart still weeps

And no one ever seems to care
Feeling like they walk on air

It's not what you wanted
It's not what you came here for
This place just leaves you cold
Where nothing matters

I can't wait for time to save us
And I can't break your fall forever
'Cause you always take
You always take too much
You always take
You always take too much

It's not what you wanted
It's not what you came here for
This place just leaves you cold
Where nothing matters
It's not what you wanted

It's not what you came here for
This place just leaves you cold, where nothing matters

never hear surf music again / enjoy the silence

Song of the Day: FreeBlood / Never Hear Surf Music Again

This morning I woke up with this gem buzzing in my buzzed brain:

http://www.last.fm/music/Free+Blood/Never+Hear+Surf+Music+Again

Shitdisco and FreeBlood are my top NYC bands au moment. Freeshit Bloodisco to follow?

The thought occurred to me that I might actually want to never hear surf music again, nor any other music for that matter. I habitually use music to silence my own thoughts or reflect them through someone else's creative spurts, thus effectively nulling my own creativity - if any remains, that is. Like most, silence is, to me, both a blessing and a curse. It drives me insane. I used to keep the TV in my apartment on perpetually, regardless of the channel, simply to exist in a space filled with others' voices - a poor man's solution for the rigors of solitude. When I was six years old I convinced my parents to allow me to stay home alone when they went about their eveningtime business, which was most nights. In exchange for my bravery I received the babysitting money. I clearly remember the moment I realized that by keeping the TV on I was cheating. I didn't watch it, the TV did not replace the babysitter - but it calmed me and the habit stuck. All I ever wanted, all I ever needed was there, in the chatter coming from the magic box.

These days I listen to music. Or at least I did. There is nothing like living in a foreign country where you don't understand a word of The People's Language to make you appreciate silence. I've learned to tune out their voices, rolling triumphantly in the Latinesque vibrations of Romanian. I've retreated to the place from which I had managed to escape as a child - my own head. The things I find there now both terrify and fascinate me. I've escaped from the foreign country (Romania) to another foreign turf - my bustling and noisy, mostly unintelligible, stream of consciousness. I hear nothing and it seems that the silence has allowed me to begin seeing the world with open eyes.

It's a sad day and I wish I could just hear surf music again.