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2003-10-28 - 4:14 p.m. i want to be forgotten - the strokes the strokes show, last thursday: the music was great. the band was basically phoning it in. they sounded fantastic. i couldn't put my finger on what was wrong with the show, then, it came to me. they weren't having fun, so, i didn't have "fun". that's what was missing, the goosebumps, the oh-my-god-i-can't-believe-i'm-lucky-enough-to-be-here feeling. you see, i'm a music junkie. not in the i-can-tell-you-what-year-such-and-such-came-out-AND-on-what-label, but, in the more simple i love, love, love music, and i obssess about bands, and i have posters on the wall, and i buy all the magazines, postcards, ephemera i can. i discuss music in the way that a more intelligent person would discuss politics, or philosophy. i love it. i live it. i need it. certain songs make me cry. certain songs make me dance, and sing, and shout! certain songs remind me of friends and relatives, some still with us. some not. "hey nineteen" by steely dan reminds me of eating pizza with my parents, while i listened to that 45 over & over. i had a donnie & marie poster prominently displayed on my wall as a kid. i devoured my parent's copies of, hotel california, rumours, and saturday night fever. in jr. high, i loved the s.o.s band, and social distortion. rick james and the stray cats. i have always been a fan. more than a fan. well, it's more than mere fandom to me. music is everything. happy, sad, angry, dreaming in bed. it doesn't matter. music is everywhere. it's in car alarms (annoying techno), in grocery stores (muzak), and at baseball games (na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-heey-goodbye!). we couldn't get away from it if we tried, but, who the hell'd want to? i know i'm not special. i know i'm a small part of something so much bigger than i can even imagine. we love it, right? we download, lend, borrow, and, of course, BUY! hundreds and hundreds of albums, 7"'s, cd's. we spend way more than we should. but, what else would we spend it on? if we were gearheads, we'd buy fancy doo-hickeys for our cars. we know better though. cars come and go, but the music that comes pouring out of them, well, that's forever. part of our personal histories. hearing just a snippet of certain songs can put me back in diapers, jr. high, graduation night, the first time i had sex, or, the last time. "loving a stupid little piece of music so much that it hurts", yeah, that's about right. the strokes didn't take that from me. no one could. maybe it's different from thier side. maybe being in a different city every coupla days is too overwhelming. maybe, the after party from the last show was too good. who knows. i don't. i probably won't ever. i'm not gonna bitch. we're all only human. think of the funnest thing you've ever done. think of the joy, the wonder. the sheer fucking awesomeness of it. now, think of doing it everyday, for weeks, months. maybe, not so much fun, huh? i love the strokes. i love 'em like a teenaged girl. complete with crushes on band members (nick & fab). i'm not picking on them. i'm listening to "room on fire" as we speak. have been all day. it's fucking great. when i listen to this years from now, well, that'll be when i remember today, writing about how much i love music. in all it's fanatic, goofy splendor. telling a bunch of people whom i've never met how much of a fan i am, and not feeling shy, or embarrassed, cuz i know they're fans too. i read it in their diaries. later |
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