Crying
There's a song at the end of Dazed and Confused that always makes me feel like the story is wrapping up, I know the credits are near, everything has come together and it's time to move on. Tuesday's Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Great song.
I was just listening to Ryan Adam's new iTunes Session album, and was struck with the same feeling. It seems the best songs that hit home are always the ones that feel like they summarize your experience, like they speak to you in ways that others don't.
I've never been a big fan of pop music. Fluffy lyrics that distort reality and make girls feel inadequate don't interest me. Music that speaks to the soul... Now that's where it's at. Sometimes it's not even the lyrics that do it, sometimes it's the pace, the intention or the light-hearted voices that lift me up.
I picked up The Very Best of Roy Orbison last week, I've been craving the sound of his voice recently so I finally caved and bought a cd. I'll admit I don't know much about his life, but that man must have had one of the most tortured hearts to sing like that. I sat in my car in the rain and listened to "Crying" for three repeats until I was finally ready to exit the car and go inside my apartment. It was as if an operation was performed on my heart and I was healed of the day's stress after hearing it enough times.
Roy Orbison's always been around in my life, and his voice brings me a certain comfort that only Roy Orbison can, just as Jeff Buckley does or Eddie Vedder or Johnny Cash does for that matter. I have a million threads to my heart and each one is reserved for the right sound, the right melody, the right voice. Each one reaches the same place, just in a different way. It reaches the place so deep inside of me that I can't even picture it, but I know it's so powerful. The portal to my soul I suppose. As big as a pin prick.
Sometimes I'm in the mood for Bon Iver, sometimes I'm in the mood for Social D, but no matter what I may be listening to in any given moment, I am soothed. I'll confess something to you though: sometimes, but rarely, I'm afraid of what will happen when the music stops. Will I be strong enough to continue on? How will I do without my life's soundtrack playing? I want to cry and I want to bloom and curl up all at the same time.
The way I find musicians put themselves on the line when they write and perform, I guess that's what I want to be able to do in my own writing. Even though this may be a little blog that gets 50 reads at a time, damn that makes me happy. That's not a bad gig. I'm grateful for your commitment and for your faith in me. I can't play an instrument to save my life, but I seem to be doing alright with a pen.
Ryan Adams,
Katie
I was just listening to Ryan Adam's new iTunes Session album, and was struck with the same feeling. It seems the best songs that hit home are always the ones that feel like they summarize your experience, like they speak to you in ways that others don't.
I've never been a big fan of pop music. Fluffy lyrics that distort reality and make girls feel inadequate don't interest me. Music that speaks to the soul... Now that's where it's at. Sometimes it's not even the lyrics that do it, sometimes it's the pace, the intention or the light-hearted voices that lift me up.
I picked up The Very Best of Roy Orbison last week, I've been craving the sound of his voice recently so I finally caved and bought a cd. I'll admit I don't know much about his life, but that man must have had one of the most tortured hearts to sing like that. I sat in my car in the rain and listened to "Crying" for three repeats until I was finally ready to exit the car and go inside my apartment. It was as if an operation was performed on my heart and I was healed of the day's stress after hearing it enough times.
Roy Orbison's always been around in my life, and his voice brings me a certain comfort that only Roy Orbison can, just as Jeff Buckley does or Eddie Vedder or Johnny Cash does for that matter. I have a million threads to my heart and each one is reserved for the right sound, the right melody, the right voice. Each one reaches the same place, just in a different way. It reaches the place so deep inside of me that I can't even picture it, but I know it's so powerful. The portal to my soul I suppose. As big as a pin prick.
Sometimes I'm in the mood for Bon Iver, sometimes I'm in the mood for Social D, but no matter what I may be listening to in any given moment, I am soothed. I'll confess something to you though: sometimes, but rarely, I'm afraid of what will happen when the music stops. Will I be strong enough to continue on? How will I do without my life's soundtrack playing? I want to cry and I want to bloom and curl up all at the same time.
The way I find musicians put themselves on the line when they write and perform, I guess that's what I want to be able to do in my own writing. Even though this may be a little blog that gets 50 reads at a time, damn that makes me happy. That's not a bad gig. I'm grateful for your commitment and for your faith in me. I can't play an instrument to save my life, but I seem to be doing alright with a pen.
Ryan Adams,
Katie
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