INDIEchouette


I SEE REAL SNOWFLAKES OUT THERE AND I HOPE THEY DO EVENTUALLY MELT
2 March, 2009, 1005 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

joe-knapp1

Paper Snowflakes | Son, Ambulance
[mediafire] [buy]

Snow makes me briefly happy, but coldness generally makes me want to hibernate or die.

Oh yeah, it snowed today as well as last night.

I like Son, Ambulance because they’re one of the more subtly sexual but beautiful bands I started listening to in my mid-teens. By this, I mean that there is some sex in most every song, but that instead of being raunchy, it’s more like a distant but fond memory, kind of nostalgic and never dirty. Listening to Saddle Creek bands often make me wish I could go back and be in high school, specifically sophomore or junior year where I was attempting to find myself but couldn’t do it in a sea of people who really didn’t give a shit. But I was glad to have a few misfits along with me who cared enough to invite me when they wanted to run around suburbia completely confused and confined, trying to trample some form of oppression but not completely knowing what it was. We were melancholy but happy together.

And now we have cars, we live different lives, and I don’t think any of us have found ourselves or anything better than what we once had, but I guess we probably all think we have.

Days like these remind me of the first time I saw Garden State, Kill Bill, and when I started watching Scrubs.  They remind me of when I started listening to good music, started giving a shit about current events.  The day I decided to give up meat permanently.  The moment I sold my soul to Bright Eyes.  Playing Emogame and feeling glad that someone else cared.  Renouncing religion and feeling fine with it.  And now, it seems like I’ve stopped revolting against the “system” so much, but those were just the futile beginnings.  I mean that it seemed so essential to conform to something, even a strict brand of nonconformity, in order to live the life I wanted and get the reaction I needed.

conorI know you’re probably thinking that kids who lived in the suburbs of Richmond, aka Short Pump–the haven of the young upper-middle class, capitalists and consumerists to the core–were hardly oppressed.  And as a bunch of white (or white-looking) youths who lived in big houses and went to the largest and “greatest” school in the county, I would probably have to agree with you for the most part.  There was pressure to conform to the status quo, but that could be satiated by conforming to a different status quo.  But I would say that capitalism and consumerism are forms of oppression, despite the fact that they’re generally directly connected to affluence and having means of buying things.  Like money.  Like the transportation to get there.  They’re oppression in that they expect something of you and demand so much from you and the people around you.  They’re illusions and they often get in the way, making it so difficult to find anyone who gives a shit about the things in life that actually matter.  Books, love, fucking, real knowledge, honest music.  Other people.

I’m listening to Bright Eyes, too, so I feel the need to present you to one of the older pieces that meant so much to me at one point.

On My Way To Work | Bright Eyes
[mediafire] [buy]

Bright Eyes still takes up a good percentage of my iPod.  Even if Cassadaga was a disappointment and even if Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band isn’t nearly the same.  Man, Bright Eyes sounds so good to me right now.  Refreshing and comforting.


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