It's 1995. I'm listening to Tori Amos's Little Eartquakes for the 5,000th time. I'm reading poetry in bed, writing obsessively in my journal, and crying intermitently. Oh, sorry mom, also smoking out my bedroom window.
Basically, in 2012, I'm doing the same thing, only now I'm listening to The Dead, and it's not so bleak.
(Please smile as you read this. Today was shitty. I know this too shall pass.)
My year in music was kind of tame, but maybe that's just life with kids and an old, ipod lacking any updates. But, the albums I did find were pretty stand out, so that's something. Yes, albums. Albums are still very important to me. Singles are great. They are fun. They might even lead you to albums. But a good, solid album--whoo-eee--that's the best.
Fucked Up/David Comes to Life
This was my favorite album of the year. Mike pushed it on me all summer, but it wasn't until things hit the fan that it became the only thing I listened to for days on end. It is the best album to demo a house to, have a small breakdown to, or just wallow in a lot of adult angst.
Adele/21
Yes, I know, I know. Radio ruined her for so many. But I don't listen to radio much.
M83/Hurry Up, Were Dreaming
I heard that radio might be ruining this guy too, but see above. I absolutely love the sound. I want to drive all night to this album. In a snow storm.
Naked and Famous/Passive You, Agressive Me
While talking about M83 and highly polished studio sounds, let us not forget this band, the Steely Dan of the trippy indie sound. I like polished. I like raw too, but mostly I like polished. And I fucking love Steely Dan. (And I'm wrong; this album came out in 2011. Doh.)
The Head and The Heart/ST
Oh nelly, this group knocked me on my ass. Perfect Olivia folk-rock. Damn near perfect album start to finish.
Foster the People/Torches
Pumped Up Kicks was the single that made me listen to the whole album, and guess what? The album is a gem. Super dancey and fun. Just like me.
We Are Augustines/Rise Ye Sunken Ships
I found these guys last month, but the album is very listenable. A bit Cold Play-ish, but Cold Play never hurt anyone, right?
Also worth mentioning Florence + The Machine/Ceremonials and Frank Turner/England Keep My Bones. Lots of Youtube and Vimeo for music watching and I really came to love Pandora.
You are amazingly complicated, funny, smart, and naughty. Your love for me is fierce. But we all know you also love your big sister very much, and Dada, whom you talk about more than anyone during the day.
You sing and dance all the time. I watch you make up little routines. Tonight you danced around on the landing after your bath, singing, "I'm a bad robot." You fell asleep with your ballet slippers on.
Everywhere you go you tote a stuffed animal kitty cat and your blankie. Your blankie is so rank, gray and smelly, no matter how much we wash it. You don't care; it is a fixture.
You have started to tell us stories about a life you had before, when you were bigger.
When I was bigger, I had a purple chihuahua.
When I was bigger, I married Zia in a pink and purple striped wedding dress.
I was Nahla, an African drummer.
When I was bigger I played Red Sox with my friend Connie.
You love to help me. You will clean up, wipe down the table, cook with me, sweep, and throw everyone's trash away. You tell me often how much you like to help.
You get very angry very fast. You become unreasonable in an instant, unreachable.
We have to sing you two songs every night: Pay Me, You Owe Me and Down By the Riverside. You have begun to draw people. You love Abbey but never want her to be near you. You walk around with Bea's chapter books under your arm, and want so badly to be able to read.
You and Bea have finally become friends. You certainly fight and drive each other crazy, but day in and day out, you two are together. You want to be together. You play wildly, but it is so full of fun and love.
You love this song right now. You heard it while driving around Long Island with Julia and Nigel.
I would often see this album in my parent's collection and be stumped by it. I was never sure what it meant to say to me. The other albums all had great, quick, sexy stories. Instant. And this album was none of those things. It didn't bore me, so much as confuse me.
Now, no longer eight or nine, I listen to this album. I think about George in the Beatles or The Traveling Wilbury's, and I can say, without hesitation, he is my favorite.
Stuck in rush hour traffic this morning. Gray, hot, humid. My mind racing. My 10-year wedding anniversary. Homeschooling lessons. Buddah. (Seriously.) So to shut my mind down, I hit the radio and this song came on.
Our house is officially on the market. We have been spending some time driving around little, sleepy towns North of Boston. Farm land and beaches. Old, old houses. It's what we prefer. I know we will find a new home. I know we will. I just think it all is calling us back to the where we started. The boy from Vermont and the girl from the beach. Our new home will have these things. They are the things we return to, the places we will always go to.
For an early birthday present, my totally awesome husband got me front row tickets to see Jeff Mangum at the Saunder's Theater at Harvard. It. Was. Amazing.
I have now seen my top five, most life altering, seminal bands/musicians play live. And with some of my favorite people along for the ride.
In 1999, Aeroplane Over the Sea was that album that kind of blew open the doors and windows to all of the music I have come to love and cherish as an adult. We were in Atlanta, listening to lots of college radio, going to Wax n' Facts and Criminal Records, going to show after show in the city and down in Athens. Bright Eyes, Tortoise, Apples in Stereo, Dirty Three, Pinback, Ghosts and Vodka, Songs: Ohia . . . of how my musical horizons were broadened.
And now I'm watching my little girls dance wildly to Holland, 1945. And I'm going to join them. Maybe you'd like to join us too.