A good indicator of my current mental state

I listened to “Fuck Dying” by Ice Cube four times on the way home from work tonight.  This is actually a good thing and indicates a certain amount of nah, world, you can’t touch me tonight.  

It’s been a week of short-ass posts, I know, but there’s a lot going on tomorrow, assuming I’m able to keep my momentum up.

In the meantime, and not for the first time:

On things I’ve learned recently

Fipurplerain.jpgrst things first: from the “there should be a German word for this” category, I would like to know the German word for the moment when you discover a giant hole in the crotch of your pants at the beginning of an 11-hour work shift and realize that the moment before you discovered that hole was as good as the day was going to get.  There’s a German word for everything, so there’s got to be one.

Brief review of the new bed: I love the fuck out of it.  I would have preferred, however, that we not have a neighborhood-wide power outage the first day we own our new adjustable bed, although I suppose the setting we had it at when the power went out represented some sort of compromise between the universe and ourselves, since it was technically supposed to be a sleeping position and not, say, the “make your bed into a reclining chair” position.  I have since discovered that there is a place on the bed where batteries can be inserted to avoid precisely that scenario but at the time it was a problem.  But I’m sleeping better– way better, in fact– and that’s what counts.

I’m a Prince fan, right?  I have been for a long time– in fact, Purple Rain was one of the first two pieces of music I ever paid for, on cassette, who knows how long ago.  I was trying to hunt down video that didn’t suck of Lenny Kravitz’ tribute to Prince at the 2017  Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony, and finally found some that did suck, and for some reason decided to Google the lyrics to When Doves Cry.

Guys, I’ve been singing the wrong words to When Doves Cry for basically my entire fucking life.

I mean, in my defense, I probably decided I knew the words before I was ten, and maybe I’m just like my mother/ she’s never sad inside and maybe you’re just like my mother/ she’s never satisfied aren’t that far apart, but that wasn’t the only bit I was getting wrong, right?  And it’s like… damn, I’ve heard this song probably once a week for my entire fucking life and I’ve managed to screw it up every single time.  What the hell else have I been doing wrong for my entire life and never realized it until now?

Feel free to share examples of similar idiocy in the comments if you like.

You didn’t do your homework: On Music

b5935b417cc9b46cd514dd1cfafffc8b.jpgI told you yesterday to listen to a song.  Scroll down and do that right now.  Or just click; that gets me more hits.

Kurt would have turned 50 this week, by the way.  This post isn’t about Nirvana’s music but it’s not unrelated, as you’ll soon figure out.

Anyway: a few months ago I wrote a post about Rae Sremmurd where I talked about my utter inability to actually pay attention (or, honestly, understand) any of the lyrics to their songs.  I continue to listen to Sremmlife 2 more or less weekly and other than Black Beatles I can’t actually name any of the songs or quote any of the lyrics.  This is in stark opposition to the way I used to enjoy music, which was to memorize every syllable of entire albums.  I don’t know what the hell Swae Lee and Slim Jxmmi are talking about in the majority of the thing, and I had to look up their names just now.

But I love the hell out of Sremmlife 2 anyway.

The other day I downloaded Future’s self-titled new release on the strength of the cover art.  I do that sometimes; I like discovering new music and occasionally I just buy something for the sheer hell of it.

(Sidenote: upon finding that link, I discover that dude has second new album, meaning he  has two new releases within two weeks.  I buy it instantly.)

(Are we still calling these “albums”?  I can’t use CD anymore, but “album” still seems to work.  Anyway.)

So here’s the thing: I was listening to Future on the way home from work last night, and if anything to my old-ass ears the lyrics are even harder to decipher than Sremmurd.  This seems to be a Southern hiphop thing; Sremmurd is from Tupelo and Future is from Atlanta.  I put the YouTube “video” of POA on the post yesterday because that’s the song that was playing when I realized I wasn’t really in the car anymore, and upon checking the track realized I had not the slightest idea what POA might stand for.  (“Power of Attorney,” according to the Google.)  And this leads me to my question, and the reason I’m writing this post in the first place:

How important are lyrics to you to be able to enjoy a piece of music?  Do you ever listen to music in a foreign language where there’s literally no chance of you understanding the words?  Is it possible for a “good song” to be about a subject or topic you hate?   I once tossed a brand-new CD out the window of my car on the first listen because it turned out to be laced with homophobia, but it was also clear and understandable.  And I can’t stand a couple of very popular songs because of what they’re about.

These last couple of albums could be about goddamn anything and I don’t care at the moment because I can’t stop zoning out when I’m listening to them.  Which isn’t a bad thing; I can’t complain.  I’m just wondering how weird it is.

PS:  I got home last night and went to check the mail, and stopped dead in my driveway because I could hear Rae Sremmurd playing and thought my phone had unpaused itself or something.  It took a moment to realize that one of the two teenagers next door had their bedroom window open and was listening to Sremmlife 2 at perhaps an unhealthy volume level.  So there’s that.