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example // in sufjan stevens’ it’s your own body and mind off of a beginners mind,(the formatting choices here are completely arbitrary) he angelically sings: she’s gotta have it she’s gotta dream (she’s got a dream) and she'll make it a habit of doing her own thing as so graciously told to me by genius, (this link does not redirect to anything I simply like to imagine it looks fitting) this song is based off of spike lee’s she’s gotta have it, and is an ode to self actualization, autonomy, and love. HOWEVER, when I heard this song it became: she’s god of heaven she’s gotta dream (she’s got a dream) and she’ll make it of heaven as so woefully malformed by my brain, the song became a tale of a woman who is ”god of heaven.” I derived that sufjan had put a woman on the pedestal of all pedestals claiming her a god of heaven aka: God,(for those who practice)—(sidenote: what are you practicing)—(double sidenote: this is a joke) or even surpassing God. I figured that i was listening to a song about infatuation and rose-tinted perspective, much similar to his song impossible soul off of the age of adz (i could write pages upon pages about this 25 minute long masterpiece and the cover of the album talking to me while on mushrooms but alas…seek ye treasure (pirate reference)) in which he sings “woman tell me what you want“ and “you are the lover of my impossible soul.” so sue me for thinking lover boy stevens was back at it. i do think there is a beauty in misunderstanding lyrics that can show you what is at the forefront of your brain without you even realizing. when listening to the song i was thinking of my girlfriend, (god of heaven. obviously.) and my brain jumped to connect that dot. i find that this happens very often and it usually suggests something more interesting and provocative than a simple yanny and/or laurel mishap (green needle for my enthusiasts). if you have any similar experiences do feel free to share!
21h ago

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It has come to my attention that many people of the universe don’t care much for song lyrics. Whatever floats your boat - I understand the appeal of a nice beat or a catchy tune. All I’m saying is that as long as you are influenced by music, how can you ignore its meaning or feeling? It’s beyond me! To interpret the message being communicated is one of the great joys of consuming music. (To be clear, I love an instrumental soundtrack or song. I have a deep appreciation for the artistry of writing and composing beautiful music. This in itself does tell a story and that is worth praise. But in regards to songs with lyrics - to not pay attention to them is to turn the pages of a book without reading it. You miss the journey entirely!! You deprive yourself of the spirit of the thing!!)
Sep 13, 2024
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Let the record show my favorite website is PI.FYI But another good one is Songmeanings.com. I like looking up old favorite songs and reading arguments about the meanings from years ago- it’s such fun. Here is a good comment I found under Look On Down From The Bridge by Mazzy Star “This song has a special meaning to me. It's the song played in the soprano's 1st season at Jackie Aprile's funeral. I used to watch that show every Sunday with a friend in college. We grew close, then we moved in together. It went downhill. Graduated and moved back home, I had some things to return to her, so I mailed them out and I put a copy of this song on a CD and sent it too. I never knew such a simple two syllable word as "goodbye" could be so hard to say.  How could I say goodbye? How could I say goodbye? Goodbye.” On a sillier note theres a great argument in the comments of Indie Rokkers by MGMT
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@vivi
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Dec 19, 2023
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“I haven't found any music in a while.” This is something people say to me fairly often. Friends, family, even other musicians. Curious, this line of thinking, in an era of total comprehensive availability. Every song written since the dawn of creation, just a quick search away - the cannon at your fingertips and yet...  Maybe it’s a conundrum of choice. Maybe you’re like me, standing in the shampoo aisle at CVS, thinking to yourself, “Okay, I understand intellectually that I’m looking at colorful plastic tubes of post-capitalist chemical gloop, all of which serve a nearly identical purpose. I understand intellectually that the architecture of this moment is deliberate, that the sheer volume of product is meant to make me feel as though this decision matters greatly. I understand intellectually that in fact, this decision doesn’t matter in the slightest, and yet, here I stand, staring, “shopping.” Author’s Note: Please allow me to check my privilege here. I am lucky to possess what I have been told is “easy hair.” I wash it maybe once a week, and I am plagued by zero scalp-centric struggles. I do not wish to offend any readers by calling their post-capitalist gloops post-capitalist gloops. If you need a specific gloop to keep your noggin tip-top, I levy neither judgment nor verdict. I may be more empathetic to your plight than you imagine- I am exceedingly particular about deodorant. Rite Guard makes a very good gloop. And so, I step warily forward toward total personhood by way of scalpal salvation, and I pause. “This time you’ve gone too far,” rasps over the pharmacy speakers, a warm, familiar gravel to the sung phrase. No matter- important choices are to be made. Labels must be read and considered- words like jojoba and keratin could be the keys to finding meaning in this life, so we must think carefully! And then, another pause. “Wow, that guitar tone is gorgeous, even in this CVS. Maybe a strat through a JC-120, hell yeah.” And just like that, I am awake again. A sheriff of songs in the days of dueling, I am quickest to the hip and smoothest with the draw. My revolver is my iPhone, and it’s loaded with the most underrated ammunition that many of us forget we have in our arsenal. I aim, cock the hammer, pull the trigger, and blast a cold chunk of leaden Shazam into the heart of the buzzing speaker. I rarely miss my shot, and the payment of bounty pings my account instantaneously. “Of course!” I cry out in rapturous ecstasy, “Peter fucking Gabriel!” I add it to my latest heard in the wild playlist, I grab whatever shampoo is on sale, and I clear just a little bit of the post-capitalist gloop out of my brain.  I am of the opinion that music is meant to be heard in the wild. When I’m looking forward to listening to something, I’m thinking mainly about the context I will attempt to create around my listening. Where can I walk around where these songs make sense? When it works, it works, but it’s nearly impossible to engineer. As a person of Scottish descent with no real cultural ties whatsoever, I can’t even begin to describe what it was like, discovering Frightened Rabbit while playing a festival with them in Leeds, and then accidentally ending tour with a week off in Edinburgh, spent oscillating between hammered and hungover wandering the endlessly weaving city with “The Midnight Organ Fight” blaring in my headphones. Author’s Note: I didn’t mean it when I wrote “I can’t even begin to describe what it was like…”. What I actually meant was “I’m not going to describe what it was like in this essay. I’m going to write an entire essay on this, which you will be able to read soon. Look at me, I am doing internet things. So, here we stand, in the most infinite aisle of the most infinite pharmacy, trying to find something new to listen to. We have the world at our fingertips, but the world is too noisy, so we put on the noise we’re most comfortable with and we “go on about our business.” Thankfully, my shampoo analogy is about to fall apart, here’s why: The songs aren’t the gloop, your algorithm is. It is a useful and elegant marvel of technology, to be sure, but its methodology is no longer a thing of great mystery, and its goals are clearly defined. Streaming algorithms have been optimized to deliver you more of what they know you like, with the express intent of keeping you on their platform for as long as possible.  Here, we arrive at the dingey bottom shelf of the most infinite pharmacy aisle. Here lies the downside of having every song ever released wading patiently just upstream of your algorithm. You know that album you love, the one you had on loop back in the day? There are hundreds of thousands of songs that sound a lot like it. A reeking landfill of .mp3s that you will probably like, that will also, crucially, not pull at your attention or challenge you in the slightest.  After years of streaming, we’ve effectively self-reported what we think we prefer, what we know we have always liked, what we probably want a lot more of. And yet, “I haven’t found any music in a while.”  And so, I propose a new approach, one I have found helps me to transcend this dynamic- pay attention to the music you notice in the wild. Not the music you hear in the wild, as there are shards of song flung at us from all directions, all the time. I’m not talking about the cliche smooth jazz punishing you from the elevator speaker, I’m talking about the 1992 Peter Gabriel masterpiece “Digging In The Dirt” that reaches out from the heavens to give you a gentle, loving tap on the shoulder to remind you that you are alive. I’m talking about the not-so-rare piece of music that can remind you that life is short and capable of intense beauty and that you might not want to waste too much time on gloop in CVS. Make sure you don’t stop at the Shazam- add that song to your heard in the wild playlist. Maybe, like me, you can’t help but notice music erupting from car stereos at near-impossible volume 20 times a day. Usually, it’s background noise, but occasionally you’re dodging wild chickens while prowling the streets of Ybor City at 2:30 am on the fourth Friday of a five-week tour, the clouds part, and the god of bangers reaches downward with a shimmering Sistine finger outstretched. In a world of trunk-rattling 808s, one melody cuts through, for whatever reason, and thanks to your deftness at coming up off the hip before the red light can turn green, you’ve captured something real from your moment. A piece of art now belongs to you just as much as it belongs to anyone else. If you’re anything like me, you will probably enjoy revisiting this song for years to come, not because you love the genre or tend to listen to similar artists, but because this song, at least to you, is powerful enough to steal your attention away from all the other stimuli without even trying. You’ve already unwittingly pressure-tested the song’s ability to whip you into presence, now get to know it a little better and see where it takes you. These songs may also gain geographic significance as you continue to develop the habit. Anytime I listen to “Love & War” by Lil Poppa, I’m back in Ybor City, and I’m enveloped in this memory thanks to an artist from Jacksonville with 386k monthly listeners that the algorithm wouldn’t have served me in a million years. The geography doesn’t even need to be interesting to stick, and although I can mentally retrace countless adventures through my playlists, if I’m honest, a lot of the songs take me back to CVS or somewhere like it. That is also okay with me, because at least it means I walked away with a bit more than the post-capitalist gloop I came for.  (this is a pi only preview of a newsletter i'm launching this month. the newsletter is part of a larger project that includes original music (bangers) and youtube docs (about making / playing / loving bangers all around the world. if you've got any notes, i'd love to hear em, and if you like what you've just read, we should be friends. if you made it this far, i appreciate you genuinely and deeply. the world is crazy, but i've been working hard, and i'm excited to share everything. the newsletter site isn't live yet and none of the copy is final, but if you feel compelled, hit the link and signup pre-launch. <3. ok sick cya l8r.) photo by ashley gellman.
Apr 8, 2025

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