Archive for the 'Life’s Lyrics' Category

Losing my music

NS November 8th, 2008

I realised something the other day that both startled and saddened me — music is no longer a significant part of my life. I don’t know exactly how it happened but it has. I’m sure it was a gradual process but sometimes it seems like it happened overnight. I’ve never been a music fanatic or anything but it was a part of my everyday life, certainly. I bought music, sought out new artists, cherished the ones I already knew, attended concerts, listened to the radio, read music magazines, talked about it with other people, went to see live bands in bars and spent time thinking about particularly poignant lyrics. Nowadays I would struggle to name more than a handful of bands that are neither mainstream nor old news. Not only am I not on the cutting edge, I’ve fallen completely off the edge. This doesn’t bother me for the reason you think it might (that it makes me feel unhip or old or something). It bothers me because it means I’m not growing in my musical tastes and letting my existing ones stagnate.

Ever since I stopped working almost three years ago and so stopped using my iPod on a daily basis, I find I can go days or even weeks without turning on the radio, popping in a cd or firing up iTunes on my computer. And when I do listen, I usually just stick on what I know. Maybe because it’s familiar and comforting, maybe so I can sing along. Or maybe it’s because I’ve gotten too lazy to care about finding new sides to myself that could be explored with music. Whatever it is, there’s no denying that I let it slip down my list of things to do and of the things I love.

I actually downloaded my first song from iTunes just a few weeks ago. Usually I just pinch music off of my husband. There are three-year-olds who have downloaded more songs than I have. I don’t know why it is but it seems that my interest in music waned at about the time everything went really digital. Of course, this also coincided with me becoming a parent and so maybe part of it is that I just had less time and money to source and buy new music. And when I did have time to think about music I’d realise that I didn’t know where to go to find it anymore. It certainly wasn’t in a shop, like it used to be because I couldn’t afford to buy numerous cds anymore. I certainly couldn’t afford to take a chance on unheard of bands and singers. And I didn’t really know where to go to find it online without paying for it before I’d even heard it or where it was easy to navigate through the genres. I guess when you look at it that way it’s not hard to see how I let it get away.

Now, I’ve always been something of an oldies and classic girl when it comes to music (most of my favorite artists are from the 50s, 60s and 70s) but I like newer music too. There’s nothing like the feeling you get when you hear a totally different kind of music to anything you’ve heard before– the way it makes you hold your breath until the song is over, your pulse race, your feet tap and your heart melt. It’s like falling in love and jumping off a cliff and having a good cry all at the same time. It doesn’t necessarily have to be new music, just new to you. And that’s what I miss — experiencing music that is new to me. I was looking at my iPod playlists and realised that the only music on there by artists who have become known only in the last few years were put there by my husband. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t know who any of the big new bands in the last three years were. The only other way I hear new music is through a few bloggers who put songs on each of their entries, like A Free Man and Jen. I’d like to be able to find new artists myself too though, not always rely on other people to do it for me.

So tell me, what does music mean to you and how do you go about finding new artists to listen to? Do you attend live shows, read news and reviews, ask friends, visit music sites, browse actual CDs in the stores, or what? Share your expertise with me! And while you’re at it, a few recommendations wouldn’t go amiss. To give you an idea of my existing tastes, I’ll tell you who some of my favourite artists are:

Joni Mitchell, the Beatles, Ani Di Franco, Tori Amos, The Shins, Imogen Heap, Frou Frou, Zero 7, Simon and Garfunkel, Carly Simon, Kaiser Chiefs, Snow Patrol, Belle and Sebastien, Jack Johnson, Dave Matthews Band, Tom Petty, Tracy Chapman, Cat Power, Jeff Buckley, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder and Al Green.

Suggest away!

The look

NS October 10th, 2008

As brought to my attention by The Curvature, yesterday was John Lennon’s birthday. I watched the accompanying video (‘Imagine’) and the thing that struck me was not how brilliant that song is (because I already knew that) but the way John and Yoko look at each other in the last few seconds. You can see this subtle yet intense, complicated yet simple love between them. The way the corners of her mouth lift into a barely-perceptible smile as he gazes at her intently, a smile meant just for him and not the cameras in front of them, reminds me of what my mother said to me nearly nine years ago when I told her that I was marrying The Noble Husband.

Given that I was only 20, had dropped out of university to move across an ocean to be with him and we’d only been living together for five months, I was nervous about telling my parents and expected a little resistance. But I underestimated them. Though I could tell they were a bit apprehensive about it and sad that I would be staying in England, they also knew that I was an adult now, a woman in love, and that nothing they said would influence my decision. Little does my mother know that what she said that day did in fact influence me. She said: “If he always looks at you the way I’ve seen him look at you, I know you’ll be happy together.”

I’ve never forgotten that and whenever I need reminding of what brought us together in the first place, I take a moment to catch my husband’s eye and silently smile. When he gives me ‘that look’ I know that we’ve still got whatever it is that brings two very different people from different parts of the world together, much like John and Yoko. I couldn’t imagine my life without him, and I wouldn’t want to.

Just like a nursery rhyme

NS July 9th, 2008

TNC is an excitable, busy child, a typical toddler. She runs, jumps, climbs, clambers, explores, pokes, pours, and all of the other typical two-year-old behaviours. She still gives me hugs and kisses when I ask but they are becoming more fleeting, a quick peck and a pat on the back before she’s off again. So yesterday when she curled up on the sofa, stuck her thumb in her mouth, patted the space next to her and said “Lay down Mummy,” I stopped the cleaning I was doing and immediately obliged. I kept waiting for her to tickle me or jump up, teasing me with her feigned stillness. But we laid there for a few silent minutes, looking into each other’s eyes, and I began smoothing the hair back from her face very gently. She closed her eyes and said “Sing, Mummy.”

Now, normally I can belt out a dozen nursery rhymes and kids’ songs at the drop of a hat or think of my own appropriate tune but for some reason, my mind went blank. I wasn’t sure what kind of song the moment called for. Not Row Row Row Your Boat or the raucous Five Little Monkeys, surely. But what, then? At that moment I realised the radio was on in the kitchen and I listened to hear what was on, hoping for inspiration.

It was Madonna’s Like a Prayer.

Without even thinking about it, I began softly singing along, turning the foot-stomping, gospel-singing indignation of a song about the complexity of religion, discrimination and race into a gentle lullaby meant to sooth my beloved girl.

I hear your voice, its like an angel sighing
I have no choice, I hear your voice
Feels like flying
I close my eyes, oh God I think I’m falling
Out of the sky, I close my eyes
Heaven help me

Like a child you whisper softly to me
You’re in control just like a child
Now I’m dancing
It’s like a dream, no end and no beginning
You’re here with me, it’s like a dream
Let the choir sing

Who knew that a controversial pop song from the 80s could have such meaning or would be the backdrop to a moment I will remember for a very long time? Thank you, Madonna. And thank you, TNC, for letting me hold you in my arms for five minutes on a Tuesday afternoon, cherishing the stillness and nearness of you.

I love sarcasm

NS May 16th, 2008

Watch this

And then this

God, I love sarcasm.

On the up

NS April 9th, 2008

Wow, what a difference a week makes.

After feeling at my very lowest for numerous weeks now, so down and dark that I couldn’t see how it would ever get better, I am renewed. Spending time with my parents after nearly a year’s absence and witnessing the relationship between them and TNC blossom and grow into something beautiful lifted my spirits more than I ever could’ve hoped. Having two extra pairs of hands around the house to help care for TNC, do chores and help lug shopping home made me feel part of a family and the community again. It helped that we got a few good days of sunshine and blue skies too, along with the couple days of rain and the one day of snow (snow in April! in London! Madness).

I feel like a new woman with a new lease on life — patient, positive, enthusiastic, happy. I am seeing my daughter through a new pair of eyes, ones that do not see only her limits and inconveniences. I feel genuine joy again at seeing the world from her perspective and remembering that this time is so incredibly precious that I would be a fool to wish it away. Spring is here and warmer weather is so close I can almost taste it. I can certainly hear its tune — slowly strumming, increasing in volume, plucking and wheedling its way into my soul. I feel blessed and ready to give again.

All of this renewed spirit has also enabled me to begin to pull myself out of the hole I had been digging for myself with regards to my career. Too depressed to feel worth anything to anyone, I had sort of given up on the writing thing for awhile. But a feature I wrote recently for a popular website has gotten quite a bit of attention and some new opportunities have presented themselves to me. This time I’m not going to let them pass me by, too scared and downtrodden to go after my dreams. I will succeed at this. I will. It is all I’ve ever wanted to do and all I can ever imagine myself being. It is my life, my blood, my heart. And so, you see, I have to make it work. The only other option is where I was two weeks ago and that’s not a place I ever want to go to again.

Though he writes for children, Dr. Seuss, to me, still has one of the best motivational speeches out there. An excerpt from Oh, the Places You’ll Go!:

All alone!
Whether you like it or not
Alone will be something
you’ll be quite a lot
And when you’re alone
there’s a very good chance
you’ll meet things that scare you
right out of your pants
There are some, down the road
between hither and yon
that can scare you so much
you won’t want to go on
But on you will go
though the weather be foul
On you will go
though your enemies prowl
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl
Onward up many
a frightening creek
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak
On and on you will hike
and I know you’ll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are
You’ll get mixed up, of course
as you already know
You’ll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go
So be sure when you step
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life’s
a Great Balancing Act
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft
And never mix up your right foot with your left
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed)
KID, YOU’LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!
So…
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea
you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting
So…get on your way!

« Prev - Next »