and the cover of the nme

"but for the cum in your hair,
the cocaine on your teeth,
you'd be just like the girls,
that i kissed on the heath.
your mother left and you're all alone,
and the world is at your feet,
you smell like ash, mildew and hash,
can barely even speak.

and it's so sad that you're so sad,
and you're so bad for me.
i followed your perfume as you ran down the street.
i caught you and held you and pushed back your fringe,
and swore undying loyalty.
we'll make a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,

you and me.

i followed you home,
knocked at your door,
offered myself in the kitchen,
then passed out on the floor.
and when you shout, i get terrified,
and then i love you more.
you sound middle class,
but I'll let it pass,
i don't understand you at all.

and it's so sad that you're so sad,
and you're so bad for me.
i swallowed my pride with a pill and decided to give you back your key.
you caught me and held me,
and i took your hand and swore undying loyalty.
we'll make a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,

you and me.

under the covers forever,
everything well within reach.
a small price to pay for our freedom,
and for our celebrity.
such ornaments and gorgeous things,
like string lights at the beach.
intensive care and conditioned air,
and our faces on tv.

and it's so sad but they're so glad,
that you're so bad for me.
the dark days ahead and the blood on the bed,
and the cover of the nme.
they gave us a cheque and took us by our necks,
and swore undying loyalty.
we'll make a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,
a new art for the people,
you and me."

every so often i stumble upon a song that i just cannot stop listening to, even if it cuts deep beneath my surfaces. things you understand in ways you may not want to understand, and hurts that you try to run from, and forget. and yet you feel it, in-between the notes, or in the trade off of voices, the lyrical refrains. so, what do i do? i listen again, as if picking at a sore that never seems to heal. one part the girl i once was, one part the things i see now. i'm not so sure i want to get this song in the ways that i get this song.

and i hit replay, again, and take it for what it is. a new art for the people, yeah? because the people just want blood and magazine covers, and love that is nothing but bad for each other. misery loves company, and fame, doesn't it? and yet i want to be a writer who finds art in happiness, in hope, and in love that heals. it is just the way i choose to see the world.

and i've lost myself completely

pacific coast highway (demo) ~ courtney love

"i knew a boy who came from the sea,
he was the only boy who ever,
knew the truth about me.

i'm overwhelmed and undersexed,
baby, what did you expect?
i'm overwrought and so disgraced,
i'm too ashamed to show my face.

and they're coming to take me away now,
what i want i will never have;
i'm on the pacific coast highway,
with your gun in my hand.

i knew a boy who left me so ravaged,
do you even know the extent,
of the damage?

my dirty little secret died,
in between the sheets,
and the promises that killed me,
from your eyes.

i'm bloody and totally bound,
i don't know what to do with my hands now;
i surrender, i give in,
i'll kick down your door if you don't let me in.

and i've lost myself completely,
i look to you, my true desire,
i'm on the pacific coast highway,
god how did you fall so far?

your whole world is in my hands,
your whole wide world is in my hands."

not the best video, as i'm not quite fond of a slide show of images, especially when so many are watermarked. but, this is the only full version of this song that i can find at the moment. this is a demo from courtney's upcoming album 'nobody's daughter', and i have fallen for it pretty hard. lyrics that rattle at the core of my insides, as i sit up far too late into the night still sick, and longing for a conversation with the sea.

hey moon, please forget to fall down

northern downpour ~ panic! at the disco (video w/lyrics)

the song

"if all our life is but a dream,

fantastic posing greed,

then we should feed our jewelry to the sea;

for diamonds do appear to be,

just like broken glass to me.

and then she said she can't believe,

genius only comes along,

in storms of fabled foreign tongues;

tripping eyes,

and flooded lungs.

northern downpour sends its love.

hey moon, please forget to fall down;

hey moon, don't you go down.

sugarcane in the easy mornin',

weathervanes,

my one and lonely.

the ink is running toward the page,

it's chasin' off the days;

look back at boat feet,

and that winding knee.

i missed your skin when you were east,

you clicked your heels,

and wished for me.

through playful lips made of yearn,

that fragile capricorn,

unraveled words like moths upon old scarves;

i know the world's a broken bone,

but melt your headaches,

call it home.

hey moon, please forget to fall down,

hey moon, don't you go down."

reading david copperfield with coffee in my hand, and you tell me that i shouldn't drink so late. i remind you that it's early, that it is nearly morning, and turn the page. but the moon is still hanging, dangling, keeping the night company.

just one more page then i'll let my eyes close.

(damn it darling, when did my taste in music let in a few emo notes?

but the lyrics, isn't it always the lyrics with me?)

music is my oxygen

sometimes i wonder to myself what my life would be like if i didn't love music in the way that i do. if songs were just something that played in the background, or was the source of mindless sound. what if i was not moved so deeply by a lyrical refrain, or a particular chord change. who would i be then? would i still consider myself a writer? would my emotions ebb and flow the same way? would i have the same friends? would i be a mother? a wife?

i try to think back to a time where music was not a part of my life and i come back completely blank. from my earliest memories there is music embedded in them. from the songs my mother sang in the kitchen, or in the car while she shuttled the kids in her carpool to and from school. the songs that i somehow attached to made up ideas of my father, put together as a soundtrack from albums that i would find in my mother's collection that i knew she never played, assuming they must have been his.

the contents of countless mixed tapes gave language to words i never could quite speak, especially when i was the shy girl who was far too filled with insecurities to tell people exactly how i felt, or what i dreamed of. the stories i made up in my head while driving in my first car, how the music helped bring them to life, becoming my muse, and my inspiration. even the pages of my adolescent journals, cringe-worthy and melodramatic prose about forgettable crushes, it was the music that would spin on my record player that became the soundtrack of those yellowing pages.

even now, i lose and find myself in shuffle on my music player. i fall for albums, lyrics, singers, songwriters and bands. some more than others, the ones that make a mark on my soul, and become part of a collection that i often believe i will carry with me always. those key songs that i would slip into a time capsule, or take along on that proverbial desert island mix. conversations on music are the ones i treasure, and are the core to connection that i share with the dearest of people i meet in this life. i have a hard time fathoming not feeling this way, and ever truly understanding a person who is unmoved by a song.

i don't really care what genre of music you choose to relate to. i've never been able to be one of those music snobs that turn my nose up at someone's love of music, even if it isn't something i find a connection to. and, i have never been satisfied with hearing only one kind of music. one of my most dreaded questions is when someone asks me "what kind of music do you like?" i'm ever tempted to answer with "how long do you have?" or with a frustrated shrug of my shoulders and a "how can i possibly answer that?"

there is always a new song to discover, and ever an album near forgotten to get re-acquainted with. a stumbled upon song that you find yourself singing along to, even though years and years have passed since you last heard it. or, every once in awhile, a song you already know, though you swear you've never heard it before. perhaps they are the tunes i heard when i was a wee child, or even those in-utero albums my mother (and yes, probably my father) played in that tiny house we first called home. it was on charlotte drive, around the corner from my grandfather's welding shop, the one that had the soda machine that sold glass bottles of coca-cola.

i wonder how my children will feel about music as they grow. i know max has rhythm in his blood, an uncanny knack for beats and timing. and veronica, she prefers music she can spin around to, ballerina music that julia finds for her on one of those stations on our cable television, the classical one. she also seems to love the music david plays in the car when they drive together. i remember one afternoon when we were off to somewhere, and i caught her sweet little girl voice singing along to sufjan stevens chicago. and julia, well she seems to have inherited my obsession with music, though much of her taste seems closer to david's.

maybe they will recall songs that were my favorites when they are all grown up. they will hear them and remember moments we shared, or places we've lived, or travelled to. i wonder what songs will remind them of being small, which ones will recall their first loves, first kisses, first heartbreak. and i wonder what songs will move me when i grow old, when i slow down, when i have grandchildren of my own, and boxes of memories.