They are so fashionable and they try so (too) hard.
My hatred for music videos which revolve around party scenes knows no bounds, and that extends to Happens In The Dark by Jedward, despite the fact that my love for Jedward knows no bounds.
This song feels so vibrant and positive, but it deserves a music video which more accurately reflects how zany (cultivatedly so, but still!) these twins are.
Now, if you want to watch a PROPER Jedward video, look no further than the Lipstick video.
It has the great costumes, the peppiness, the hilariously choreographed dance scenes (plus bonus cartwheels) and some bits that are just out of left-field. They're dancing on the subway, for fuck's sake. There are shoes with teddy bears.
Also, the hair is better.
It is beautiful. Melancholy and gentle, it rocks you like a lullaby. Our boys are at their best when they are being reflective. More than most bands, they can sing about real life, not just the esoteric, and make it feel genuine and important. They remind me of William Blake, in that respect.
Actually, maybe there's even more of a direct parallel there: to see a world in a grain of sand / and a heaven in a wild flower / hold infinity in the palm of your hand / and eternity in an hour vs we're still watching /your rainbow through the shower / and we still see you / in every sunflower. Perhaps they are Romantics.
In Drive-by Summer and Starlings Over Brighton Pier, I hear more echoes of Music In Mouth than I do of Bloodless Coup. I wouldn't go so far as to call it a ~return to their roots~, at least not before hearing the whole album, but it is kind of exciting. It's a style that works for them, and their commentaries on the human condition are so delightfully fresh, lyrically intriguing, and, often, funny that it never feels stale.
Listen a bit longer for bonus Rocky Took A Lover. Be excited with me for the new album, out in late June.
Today, this blog reviews videos, not music, and not the skillful melding of the two mediums.
So, uh, Unknown Mortal Orchestra. Swim And Sleep (Like A Shark). Not terribly safe for work.
While puppet masturbation carries its own unique set of horrors, I was honestly most scared and confused by the laughing horse.
Puppets: not just for children's birthdays anymore. And honestly, really over-used.
I hadn't listened to much Tegan and Sara for a few years. Then came Heartthrob. It is an enthusiastic and vital celebration of emotions, and the worst of them. Now I'm All Messed Up is one of the strongest songs on it.
now I'm all messed up/sick inside wondering where/where you're leaving your makeup
now i'm all messed up/sick inside wondering who/whose life you're making worthwhile
There is so much raw emotion in this song. It feels painful, and it feels honest, and it feels relateable. I think that is one of the strongest aspects of Tegan and Sara's work; they have always remained in touch with the everyday and the emotional. Now I'm All Messed Up is one of the best examples of that in their entire discography.
There is a part at the end where contrasting voices will the other away and then take it all back: go/please stay. I haven't felt so emotional during an upbeat song since No Children.
The strongest part of this, though, is the video. I made my boyfriend (the editor) sit and watch it, knowing he wouldn't like the song, because the editing is *amazing*. The water and ink spots and handwritten lyrics are masterfully woven together and blended with the music. It is gorgeous and, for all that it is "just" ink and water, it heightens the drama of the song. Droplets burst to match the music and it is magnificent.
There are songs that I come back to. The Animals' We Gotta Get Out Of This Place is one.
It was 1998 when I first heard this song; I would have been twelve, and just becoming musically aware. It was late one night. Back in those days, 89.1 did a countdown at midnight - maybe not midnight, but late at night - and I stayed up religiously to note down the top five songs in my Little Women notebook. I had that notebook until my last move, the important one. I wish I still had it. The back had an extensive list of my (probably now, in many cases, embarrassing) favourite songs, and the front had two sets of lists. It had 98.1's Top 5, and Rick Dees and the Weekly Top 40's Top 10.
I know that I could just look all that up online, but it's not the same.
Anyways, I remember re-hiding my notebook under my mattress that night, and lying back down. I couldn't sleep, but I couldn't turn on a light and read because I shared a room with my sister, so I just closed my eyes and listened to the music.
we've gotta get out of this place / if it's the last thing we ever do /
we've gotta get out of this place / girl, there's a better life for me and you.
I remember feeling changed after I heard that lyric. Lying in the dark, and feeling, at twelve, as though yes, I do have to get out of this place, and yes, that is okay; no, I am not alone.
And that's the best of rock 'n' roll. The song still sounds amazing, even after close to fifty years, but that's not even the heart of it. It doesn't carry any less weight. It still resonates. It still gives me chills.
Escape is a universal constant.
I've held onto this song through my years of running, and I think I'll keep holding onto it, albeit in a different, more nostalgic way as I grow up and older and into myself and my place. Make a home. I won't forget the things that made me and the songs that shaped me. I won't forget the songs that made me realise that, for better or worse, I was not alone; even more than that, my feelings weren't unique, they weren't even unique to people living in my decade. People had lived through this, and found a way out and through, and had done so for years.
I made a point of never buying this song in any form because I knew that, when I needed it and whether I realised that or not, I would hear it on the radio. I think I will soon be ready to buy this, and say yes, I am able to need this song and what it means to me, and it is okay to have it now; I do not need to wait for it to have meaning because the meaning is inherent and inseparable from the act of listening to it.
I am coming back to it now because my boyfriend and I have, as they say, gotta get out of this place. It's not so dramatic as trying to get out of the ghetto, but I feel like the message still applies. He's trying to move here, I'm just trying to move out on my own. We want to start a life together. It feels hopeless, but I guess we can't really afford to feel hopeless. The Animals would probably prefer that we don't.
So we'll just keep working for it, for that better life.
I bought tickets to see Alt-J at Echo Beach. It's not until September, but I am QUITE EXCITED. I really wanted to see them during their Spring tour, but I missed out on tickets due to....being broke at the time, lol.
So, September!
I've never been to Echo Beach. I'm quite nervous; there isn't much about it in the way of reviews on Google.
9:36pm
I've been thinking more about this. When I said I bought tickets, I meant that I bought tickets - plural - for myself and my boyfriend. After the debacle that was Bell X1, it meant a lot that he agreed to come with me this time. We've always made a point of trying to share that which was important to us with each other, but I feel like that has kind of...fallen off. We've fallen into habits. He doesn't read my blog. That kind of trivial thing. We both want to get out more, and he wants to learn to appreciate the things that I care about - the bands that evoke strong emotional reactions in me, the bands that make me gasp out loud when Songkick sends the tour notification, the bands that I will find the money to see. I want to do the same for him, with the things that he cares about; I do, or I try. We'll maybe try harder. For now, though, we'll just go see Alt-J - Johnny Marr if I can find the funds - and maybe try going to see some local bands instead of going to a movie some nights.
We'll try again, because we love each other, and we want to understand why things are so important.
