From behind the veil.

I seem to have suggested a lot of songs this week over on the Mothership, and I've not been very good at explaining these choices. This week, more than any in a long time, I feel like I've just sent in a list and then wandered off. I don't like talking about myself very much, I know, and have had some bad experiences with friends, family and relationships (hardly unique) that have left me more reticent than I'd like, even here in this friendly, safe and relatively anonymous arena. It's not been as fun as usual this week, trying to propose such subjective songs with their unhappy associations, and I'm in awe of those who've written so eloquently and movingly on their choices over on the blog. So, in an attempt to come out from behind the curtain, I'm going to try it here.



The last long-term relationship I was in was probably my most serious. At least for me. It ended in a catalogue of complaints and recriminations, as they do, but the vast majority were directed at me. I wanted to fight for it, and made all sorts of vows and promises, but the decision had been made. About six weeks later, while I was still numbly mourning, she began a new relationship with someone she had met not long before we broke up. I was hugely wounded by this, suspicious, and angry at her too, and very soon, communication had irreparably broken down, a state which continues to this day. Through me, she had gotten really into Magnetic Fields, and we both loved this song. Now, listening to the lyrics, it just takes me back and stirs all sorts of introspective and regretful thoughts. This video makes me even sadder, all that faded glamour.



Jane's Addiction's "Jane Says", along with The Velvet Underground's "Candy Says" (not posted, I'm sure everyone knows it), remind me of a friend I made when I started college. Her life was like a horror story, between abuse, suicide attempts, substance abuse . . . the list went on. While I didn't share her experiences, there was, somehow, a really strong connection and bond between us that's there still. However, the relationship became so intense that it was becoming unhealthy for us both. It was becoming a bit "Dead Ringers" (the Cronenberg film, not that other thing), and was a very mentally confusing time. In the end, we had to extricate ourselves, to untwine. We had no contact for a few years, but then bumped into one another while out one night. Having said that, the reasons these songs make me cry, especially listened to back to back, is that she's had a happy ending - married, a beautiful daughter, trying to get into acting. It's so amazing to see her now and think of her then. I'm immensely proud of her for getting such a life together, and I couldn't be happier for her.





Finally, two versions of the same song. I don't have any particular associations with it, which is why it's probably the hardest to write about, on every level. I just think it's a beautiful song, and the lyrics have a resonance for me. Daniel Johnston's original is so plaintive, the simultaneous hope and despair in his voice, that I can't help but well up. Seeing him play this song in Dublin last year will remain an unforgettable moment for me, and necessitated a moment alone and a stiff drink afterwards. I thought the effect of the song may have had something to do with knowing something about his life, the context of the song as he sings it, but I also saw Spiritualized perform it on their acoustic tour in a church in Nottingham a few years ago, and it had me welling up then too. The surroundings, the version, it was just heartbreaking. I've been hoping ever since that Jason Pierce records his version, as if ever I get married, I want this to be the song we have our first dance to.

Anyway, that's it. I wanted to try to elaborate a little, and have already written more than planned. It's been quite cathartic writing a post like this. Thanks for reading.