I've been hearing that Fun. song "We Are Young" a lot lately, as has everyone else -- it's pretty hard to avoid. It's a great song, but there's only one problem I have with it, I'm not actually young. I'm not going to set the world on fire. In fact remembering a time when I thought that I might do that is kind of embarrassing via young people being stupid. (Also that Don Maclean-style intro. What's that all about?)
It got me thinking about some of my favorite songs from my twenties that I might have to consider retiring now. Not because I don't still think they're all great songs, it's just that the idea of the song doesn't speak to me anymore now that I'm approaching my death.
Not all of this shit below actually applied to my own specific personal brand (poetic license is something I used to know about as well), but it's close enough. Maybe call it a musical autobiography of twenty something melodramatic indie dorks in the 2kz? Forever.
What are you some of your nominations?
What are you some of your nominations?
When you're twentyish and drunk on books you feel like you can wear your sadness like a suit of armor and it will protect you from the world. The suit of armor in this case is probably a really threadbare thrift shop sweater. Sadness itself feels like a statement of purpose. You have a gang of nerds and they're just as sad and literary as you. It's a time when the most important fashion accessory you can afford is the crinkly paperback tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. Kindles fucked that up. You've probably got a shoulder bag with badges all over it. (That's how we rolled in the 2kz anyway.) But the thing is, you're not really sad, you're just directionless and vaguely suspicious of yourself. You have an idea that nothing that you're doing now, or will ever do, will ever matter to anyone, but you haven't confirmed it through trial and error yet. You know you have nothing to really be sad about, and yet you still are. Knowing it makes it all the worse. Someone probably needs to punch you in the beak. They probably won't. You don't learn any lessons.
No one understands your love. Your friends don't particularly approve of your girl/boyfriend of choice, but it doesn't matter because you 'get' each other. Your love is an affront to the world. It will tear things open, this simple act of fucking on a shitty futon in a busted apartment on a scorching summer day next to the window. You're not on a particularly rewarding career path, but you both have 'your projects' and when you're out together the rest of the world disappears anyway. Holding hands on the street is a declaration of defiance. Maybe you're gay, maybe you're figuring out whether you are or not, probably you're straight and you just dress like you want to be mistaken as gay. Your pants are super tight anyway. Why are they looking at us? Let them look at us. We were born to be looked at. (No one was looking).
It didn't work out. You outgrew each other after a couple weeks. Ending a love affair is literally the most selfish thing you can conceive of anyone doing. The ex is evil! A horrible, lying cheater that will surely get what's coming to them sooner or later. The world will hear of this injustice! You learn to drink alone. You appreciate being alone more and more. If you're lucky, and you mature a little bit, you realize it wasn't a heroic love like you'd imagined. You weren't head over heels with the person in question, you were in love with yourself, and the idea of being in love. Still though, you better make sure you announce to anyone who listens every time you've hooked up with someone new. Information spreads fast in your social circle. Assume every new sexual encounter is an arrow aimed directly at the heart of the ex. You're accumulating fuck you points. Someone is surely keeping track. You'll win this round eventually.
You drink too much. It's romantic. You haunt your specific scene's dive bars and rock clubs cultivating a heroic boozer's persona. You probably read some Bukowski and wish that it were better than it actually was. You have no real problems so you invent one with a burgeoning alcohol problem. You don't really have an alcohol problem. Unless you do. There's no poetry at the bottom of the bottle. Elliott Smith stabbed himself to death in the heart with a knife. Bukowski drank himself to death. Hemmingway blew his own fucking face off. You're just a guy in a bar. You know this, and that makes it worse.
COCAINE!
cocaine :(
You're still pretty young. it feels like you've lived a lifetime already. You don't know shit. You think you know what it's like to be disappointed. You don't know shit. "How can I feel so used up such a tender age?" It's not until ten years later that you'll realize how hilarious it is that you thought this at the time. You'll think about that joke for a long time.
"Now I'm at that age where no one pulls for you. And you want it bad, whatever's left of you...and there's nothing you can do. I'm at awful age. I'm at an awful stage. We don't stand a chance. It's the death of true romance." He's right. He's also talking about being like 26 or some shit. LOL.
Too soon.
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8 comments:
I like when you reference coke I don't know why it's funny. I guess I can empathize.
I nominate the Vines. I liked Highly Evolved for a long time, but I just tossed it out this past weekend.
Also, I saw Interpol open for U2 in Pittsburgh last summer. (Goddamned awful city that could've been just somewhat awful if there were more than 4 taxis) Saw them first as a support act for the Vines (!) at the Middle East a long time ago and couldn't figure out why 75% of the crowd left after their set. Then the Vines came out and the singer and guitar player started swinging haymakers at each other after two songs. Now THAT'S some stage presence.
I don't think I saw that show? I do remember Interpol at Bills Bar for Start! aka IRL makeoutclub /old
@jazzhands yo dude, drugs are bad for you n shit.
The magic of the Internet: http://www.bostonphoenix.com/boston/news_features/this_just_in/documents/02598272.htm
Just one more thought...Interpol played a fantastic set at the U2 show. It's just that a band like that shouldn't be playing outside in the daytime. It's tough to keep up the moody and dark atmospherics when it's 75 and sunny.
I still listen to the 'Pol all the time. Saw them in 2007 - they were almost too good, by which I mean the songs sounded exactly the same as they do on the CD. No jamming or audience interaction. The drummer is insanely good. Carlos D didn't look like he was enjoying himself so I wasn't surprised when he quit. I met the Vines after a show in the UK, they seemed like nice chaps. Must have been one of their more mellow moments.
Nostalgia is setting in right about...... now.
The lead singer of Fun. is 30 years old. So cheer up.
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