happy birthday, maman
i have a feeling that pete yorn's music for the morning after is this fall's album. it's weird because the past two autumns, it's been new albums only: sophomore year was x & y; junior year was how to save a life (and, arguably, continuum). interspersed throughout was definitely ryan adams (at least love is hell), so i guess that sort of counts as old-ish. but this is something i've been listening to intermittently for years in my mum's car, and all of a sudden i'm blasting it every day (in MY car, no less, ahaha). there are only a couple of songs i'm not a huge fan of, and there are, predictably, the stand-out favorites that can rest happily on repeat. but the album as a whole is starting to form those irrevocable ties to my life-- the ones that mean that, in a few years, i can listen to "sleep better" and there i am again, thinking about this or saying that or feeling [insert silly emotion]. (see post about musical deja vu.)
i've found that, to cope, i either write shit out or make a fucking playlist. the art of the mix tape-- the term is used here for artistic purposes, of course, as i think i bought my last cassette tape in 1997-- is a precise art indeed. pete yorn is featured prominently in several of my most recent creations-- more incriminating evidence. also allison crowe's voice makes me want to claw my face off in envy.
i tried making it james morrison, but it was too... well, i suppose i can't try to make something fit the season. anyway, much as i love that voice-- too bouncy, too contrived. i will never be a music critic because that made about as much sense as the fact that yesterday i came home, promptly plopped on the couch with spaghetti, grapes, and mango smoothie, and proceeded to watch the hills and paint my nails.
hellooooo, late october! i've missed ya.
i've found that, to cope, i either write shit out or make a fucking playlist. the art of the mix tape-- the term is used here for artistic purposes, of course, as i think i bought my last cassette tape in 1997-- is a precise art indeed. pete yorn is featured prominently in several of my most recent creations-- more incriminating evidence. also allison crowe's voice makes me want to claw my face off in envy.
i tried making it james morrison, but it was too... well, i suppose i can't try to make something fit the season. anyway, much as i love that voice-- too bouncy, too contrived. i will never be a music critic because that made about as much sense as the fact that yesterday i came home, promptly plopped on the couch with spaghetti, grapes, and mango smoothie, and proceeded to watch the hills and paint my nails.
hellooooo, late october! i've missed ya.