Let me just say one thing. I love post-rock. It’s one of the best genres of music invented ever. But I won’t go into any details why right now. I will also say that I love metal more than post-rock (oddly enough, post-metal isn’t really my thing). But almost whenever I’m writing, I end up listening to post-rock. I’ve done some of my (IMO) best stuff while listening to Mogwai or Because of Ghosts.
Mostly because majority of post-rock is instrumental. When it comes to topicality, there’s nothing much to guide you aside from the song titles. And when you have a song about well, nothing, can mean… anything. Who’s to say? There are no words. So when I’m writing about Communism in Antarctica, for example, I’d want to listen to something about Communism and something about polar bears. But I’d be hard pressed to find a song like that. Enter the magic of instrumentals, especially the low-key mellowness of post-rock. Now those squeaky guitars are the sounds of penguins fleeing from Polar Bear Stalin. And bam, I have something to write.
The same goes for German songs. Why German? No particular reason, there just seems to be more German in my music than any other language aside from English. Or maybe that’s cause in my head, I filter any other languages into ‘European: Other’. But, the point is if you don’t know what the hell Till Lindemann is saying, he might as well be saying the exact thing you want to hear. If your kitten has just died, wouldn’t you like to hear a famous singer sing a lament just for Wr. Wiggles? Well you can, you just won’t be able to understand it. As long as you know he is. You get your own personal minstrel to sing about whatever the hell you want him to. Broke up with your girlfriend? Passed the bar exam? On the run from the law? Writing something on your blog? Just imagine that’s what the lyrics mean, and you have a song tailored to every possible situation. Songs with no meaning, tend to be the most meaningful ones.
Yes, this entire post was written while I was listening to This Culture of Background Noise and Your House is Built on a Frozen Lake, two awesome albums from the awesome band Because of Ghosts.
No, I had no caffeine or even anything remotely sugary before sleeping. No horror movies or pictures or dead puppies. And as I was NOT sleeping last night, I thought about why the hell I couldn’t fall asleep. And I did come up with something.
It occurred to me that I never have trouble sleeping in class, when I’m on the verge of failing, or when there are a slew of projects due the next day and I haven’t started. Schedules cringe in fear of how much I DON’T follow them. But that night, I had finished everything I had planned to do, and I did it with time to spare. Now, I’d think this would equate to a better quality of sleep that I’m used to but it in fact equated to barely any at all. And I realized the reason why: Sleep is the ultimate act of defiance. In fact, if one day all of mankind developed the ability to fall asleep on a whim, it would replace cussing as the most widely used insult.
Let’s say you screw up. Screwing up equates to somebody yelling at you right? But halfway through the yelling, the person doing all the yelling notices that you’re asleep. Not pretending to be asleep, cause that’s rude and cliché. No, you’re ACTUALLY asleep. What message does that send? Probably something along the lines of “I don’t give a fuck and being unconscious is a better use of my time than this.” Basically, falling asleep is a slap in the face and it shows more than anything that you don’t care
And that night, when I had everything wrapped up with a neat little bow, complete with frilly lace and a pretty pink greeting card… I had nothing to NOT care about.
I spent some time thinking of what to write for my first post here. I thought about it for all of five seconds. See, for some reason or another, I tend to make a big deal about first things. And I did NOT want to do that here. Hell, I spent enough time thinking of what to call this blog, and I just want it to spit something out before I go to bed. So I thought, why not make this first post about… first things? Meta… something.
It’s understandable sometimes, sure. First kiss, first car, first life threatening disease. But it does get a bit extreme for me. I got a new phone, who shall I call first? A close friend? Or maybe I’ll ask the sales clerk for her number and call her first. What program should I use first on my new PC? What game should I play first on my new Xbox? This can get REALLY annoying especially around New Year’s. I don’t think of resolutions since I’m not going to keep them anyway. No, I’m thinking of what song I should listen to first this year. And most of the time, I can’t freaking remember what that first song was. It’s something I’ll just have to live with, I suppose.
I think the reason my head has to do this is because it promises, somehow that if I can start something right, the rest of the something will go alright too. Unfortunately, if I start something right, all it means is that I haven’t fucked up quite yet. In fact, most things that start out well end up sucking sooner or later. Pretty much any bands ‘older stuff’ is better than that ‘new crap they’ve been putting out’. Movie sequels are notorious for being horrible. And that goes double for third movies. Same with any TV show that’s gone on far longer than it should. The only things that don’t end up being called shit are the things that end before they have a chance to. Suppose it’s just a matter of knowing when to quit.
That sounds pretty cynical but I guess it all fits in with my current world view. One which can be summed up with a quote from the one and only Veronica Mars.
“Life’s a bitch. And then you die.”
Let’s just see how this goes.