Day 29 -- Your Favorite Song By Your Favorite Artist
Before one can pick what his or her favorite song by their favorite artist is, one needs to pick his or her favorite artist. It's a difficult feat, especially when one is not exactly sure who one's favorite artist even is. My go-to answer for "favorite artist" from age 13 to 27 was The Carpenters, a brother-sister duo famous for their early 70s soft rock and Karen Carpenter's velvety, melancholic voice. I connected with their music during my awkward adolescent years. But it wasn't just the music. After watching and rewatching the 1989 made-for-TV movie The Karen Carpenter Story and reading her biographies, I connected with the woman despite her dying five years before I was born. Something about her longing for a romantic life that she never had and self-destructing in the process spoke to me.
But much like how Megan Fox removed her tattoo of Marilyn Monroe, citing she didn't want to "attract negative energy" by having a tragic, mentally ill figure on her body, I have decided that the Carpenters can no longer be my favorite artist for similar reasons. Oh, I still like their music. It is like nothing else out there. And if one of their songs comes on the radio (a rarity), do I sing along? Yes, but not without mentally checking myself. The emotional connection, the negative emotional connection, I had to the that music is now severed. Once Tyler came into my life, he made me see...well, a lot of things, but among them is how I surrounded myself with negative objects, ideas, etc. Now that am I no longer mired in the bullshit, I can stand back and see how much it stinks.
So who is my favorite artist? I guess I'll fall back on The Beatles who I have liked since birth thanks to my dad. I don't really need to go into why I like The Beatles, right? I mean, come on! But as for a song...man, there are so many...[quickly checks iTunes]
"She's Leaving Home" -- The Beatles, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967)
This is a bizarre choice, really. I typically like the Beatles' earlier, poppier stuff more. (Think "I Wanna Hold Your Hand".) "She's Leaving Home" is from their later more psychedelic era. And if John Lennon and Paul McCartney didn't have such recognizable voices, you might not even guess it's The Beatles. "She's Leaving Home" is the finest example of baroque pop, a late 60s trend which utilizes classical music stylings, harps and the like. Lush and romantic, this song tells the story of a young girl who leaves her well-providing but unloving parents' home for a life with her man. It was inspired by several news stories about otherwise normal, happy, respectable girls running away with the spirit of the 60s. An underrated Beatles song from their highest rated album and my favorite thanks to its sonic uniqueness and beauty.
Saturday, July 16, 2016
Saturday, July 9, 2016
30 Day Song Challenge REDUX -- Day 28
Day 28 -- Your Favorite Song This Time Last Year
"Do You Wanna Touch Me" -- Joan Jett, Bad Reputation (1980)
To be perfectly honest, I don't remember what my "favorite song" (really meaning my "most listened to song at the moment") was last year. Frankly, I had better things to do, like developing my relationship with Tyler, than track what I was listening to. However, I'm pretty sure this was around the time I was choreographing/building up the nerve to do a striptease for Tyler, because, you know, I thought he might enjoy watching me dance around provocatively in the buff. The song I chose was the naughty-but-not-too-naughty rock n' roll classic "Do You Wanna Touch Me".
You can guess the lyrical content by the title, can't you? The lyrics are risqué and along with the raunchy guitars, it's perfect for taking your clothes off and dancing for your man. So I listened to "Do You Wanna Touch Me" at least 20 times in preparation. It turns out, yes, Tyler did enjoy watching me dance around provocatively in the buff and I enjoyed him watching me. So much so that I did another dance. And another has been in the works for a few months now... It's coming! I promise!
;-)
"Do You Wanna Touch Me" -- Joan Jett, Bad Reputation (1980)
To be perfectly honest, I don't remember what my "favorite song" (really meaning my "most listened to song at the moment") was last year. Frankly, I had better things to do, like developing my relationship with Tyler, than track what I was listening to. However, I'm pretty sure this was around the time I was choreographing/building up the nerve to do a striptease for Tyler, because, you know, I thought he might enjoy watching me dance around provocatively in the buff. The song I chose was the naughty-but-not-too-naughty rock n' roll classic "Do You Wanna Touch Me".
You can guess the lyrical content by the title, can't you? The lyrics are risqué and along with the raunchy guitars, it's perfect for taking your clothes off and dancing for your man. So I listened to "Do You Wanna Touch Me" at least 20 times in preparation. It turns out, yes, Tyler did enjoy watching me dance around provocatively in the buff and I enjoyed him watching me. So much so that I did another dance. And another has been in the works for a few months now... It's coming! I promise!
;-)
Friday, July 1, 2016
30 Day Song Challenge REDUX -- Day 27
Day 27 -- A Song You Discovered After Everyone Else
"It's Gonna Be Me" -- NSYNC, No Strings Attached (2000)
I used to be quite contrary towards popular music. "If it's not at least twenty-five years old, it's not worth my time" was my mantra. As a child, I felt superior because I listened to music the great folks at VH1 deemed "the best" (aka The Beatles), while my peers listened to disposable pop that had no lasting legacy (aka boy bands).
I guess I was a proto-hipster. Oh, the shame!
By the time all the boy bands had broken up and ventured into solo work, I decided that it was safe enough to give that era of pop a deeper listen. Also, no one could accuse me of being mainstream by then. And lo and behold, that is some really catchy music! One of my favorites of this era is NSYNC's only number one hit "It's Gonna Be Me".
The song is about a guy trying to convince a jaded girl that when she is ready to love again, he is going to be the one for her. This sounds like a nice enough premise, but Justin Timberlake's performance is so insistent and smug that it's off-putting. He's a little too Gaston from Beauty and the Beast, if you know what I mean. But no one ever listened to this music for the lyrics. It was all about production and vocal harmony (and meticulous choreography, pleather pants, and frosted tips in the music videos). More often than not, it's the melody that draws me to a song. That is the case with "It's Gonna Be Me".
It's ironic. I avoided boy bands because I didn't want to be like everyone else and now I lament the fact that I can't fully participate in 90s nostalgia with everyone else. Oh well. C'est la vie.
"It's Gonna Be Me" -- NSYNC, No Strings Attached (2000)
I used to be quite contrary towards popular music. "If it's not at least twenty-five years old, it's not worth my time" was my mantra. As a child, I felt superior because I listened to music the great folks at VH1 deemed "the best" (aka The Beatles), while my peers listened to disposable pop that had no lasting legacy (aka boy bands).
I guess I was a proto-hipster. Oh, the shame!
By the time all the boy bands had broken up and ventured into solo work, I decided that it was safe enough to give that era of pop a deeper listen. Also, no one could accuse me of being mainstream by then. And lo and behold, that is some really catchy music! One of my favorites of this era is NSYNC's only number one hit "It's Gonna Be Me".
The song is about a guy trying to convince a jaded girl that when she is ready to love again, he is going to be the one for her. This sounds like a nice enough premise, but Justin Timberlake's performance is so insistent and smug that it's off-putting. He's a little too Gaston from Beauty and the Beast, if you know what I mean. But no one ever listened to this music for the lyrics. It was all about production and vocal harmony (and meticulous choreography, pleather pants, and frosted tips in the music videos). More often than not, it's the melody that draws me to a song. That is the case with "It's Gonna Be Me".
It's ironic. I avoided boy bands because I didn't want to be like everyone else and now I lament the fact that I can't fully participate in 90s nostalgia with everyone else. Oh well. C'est la vie.
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Ours
I just wanted to apologize for the long absence and assure you the 30 (Non-Consecutive) Day Song Challenge will recommence soon! Tyler and I were in the process of moving in to Our! First! Place! And if you've ever moved in your life, you know what a huge pain in the ass that can be.
But the hard part is over! We are now settled in and making this three bedroom, two bath townhouse ours. Ours. I love writing that. In this post, I want to share my feelings on living with someone because I haven't always been keen on the idea. In fact, I basically rejected the idea until Tyler.
As an only child, I had my own room from age 0 to 18. It was pure bliss. Everything was mine. Every dresser drawer: mine. All the closet space: mine. The floor in which to pile my dirty clothes on: mine. If I wanted to sleep with the door shut or with the radio on or stay up reading until 3:00 a.m., that was my prerogative. It was my room and mine alone. Sure, I had my share of sleepovers growing up, which required me to share my things and space. Sharing is a hard concept for the only child. It feels like some kind of ritual from another country just because it is an occasional occurrence rather than a daily necessity like for those who have siblings. But yes, we can do it if need be, but what keeps us going is knowing that toy or room will be all ours again.
Then came college. Freshmen were required to live on campus with a roommate. You could pay extra to get your own room, but I felt too guilty (and spoiled) to ask for that. So for the first time in my life, I had to share my living, studying, and sleeping space with another person for nine solid months. To up the ante, my roommate was also an only child.
It worked out though. We became friends and got along. There were minimal arguments about dirty dishes (her) and wanting the door closed (me). But it wasn't going to be forever. That kept me going. For the rest of college, I was fortunate enough to have my own private sleeping space. And the year after when I shared an apartment with two friends, I had my own bedroom again. A hiccup came when I moved back into my parents' house. Due to my mother's illness, she had taken my old bedroom. I was relegated to the very open basement while I tried to find a job so I could finally be an adult living on my own.
After many long months without my own room to lock myself in, I found a job. And although it perhaps wasn't the wisest financial decision, I opted to get a place of my own rather than split the rent and utilities with a couple of random college girls. I was done sharing. I was ready to stand on my own and live on my own. I LOVED IT. Everything was mine again! The kitchen: mine! The bathroom: mine! The floor in which to pile my dirty clothes on: mine!
Okay. You might be thinking most people reach a point in their life where having a roommate seems juvenile. A gaggle of female roommates is one thing, a boyfriend/fiancé/husband/partner is quite another. True. Very true. When it's a boyfriend/fiancé/husband/partner there's even more sharing involved a.k.a. the bedroom, bedroom closet, and bed. At that point in my life, I was not romantically optimistic. The idea of ever being in a relationship steady enough or strong enough to involve living together seemed like a distant dream. I decided I didn't want that anyway. Why would I ever consider shacking up or marriage? Marriage means--literally--sharing all your material possessions. I was no good at sharing, therefore I would be no good at marriage. Besides, it's the 21st century. Marriage is no longer a necessity for a woman's survival. I could live on my own, happily ever after.
But then I met Tyler. I will not say my idea of living with someone changed right then and there. I still liked having my own place even as my nights were spent there less and less frequently. We only lived five minutes apart. It's not like there were mountains to climb. But as our relationship became more and more serious, we wanted to spent more and more time together. As much time as possible, actually. If we weren't at work, we were together. I never thought I would ever want to spend that much time with another person, so no one was more surprised than me that I was giving up my precious "me-time". Tyler is just that wonderful.
By Christmas time last year, Tyler and I were practically living together. He got me a litter box for Milly to keep at his place, which sealed the deal. Milly would come over for sleepovers every now and then, but I didn't feel comfortable permanently moving her in. But since Tyler welcomed her, I had basically no reason to go "home". I was home wherever Tyler was.
My lease was going to be up in May, Tyler's in June. We decided to move in together because it was the practical thing to do (why pay two rents?) and because, more importantly, it was what our hearts wanted to do. We wanted to merge our lives. We made this decision before we got engaged, but I didn't tell my parents until after. I was struggling with how I was going to tell them that there their only daughter would be living in sin. However, they lived together when they were "only engaged", so they couldn't say shit. Ha!
I actually ended up getting out of my lease a month early. I officially moved in to Tyler's place at the end of April. We made a list of all the things we wanted: at least two bedrooms, two bathrooms, washer, dryer, and dishwasher. One frenzied week (or was it just a weekend?) we looked for, found, applied for, and signed the lease on a townhouse built in 2014 a.k.a. a NEWER and NICER place than either of our old circa 1960s ones. Then the waiting game began. We would be living in Tyler's one bedroom bachelor pad for six weeks before we could get in to our new place.
For one thing, I'm really glad I moved in with Tyler rather than it working out the other way around. I would have had a much harder time having someone move in to a space that was once mine. Selfishly, it was much easier for me to take over his space. However, although I was, of course, invited and welcome at Tyler's place, it was still his technically. Long before he ever met me, he had decided which cabinet would hold the dinner plates, etc. I was anxious for when the concept of mine and his would disappear, when all those mundane decisions would be made together.
And we're here! Yay! Tyler and I have lived in our new place for almost two weeks now. I didn't have any "anxiety" over sleeping in a new, weird place. (Our brand new, awesome pillow top mattress didn't hurt.) It felt like home immediately. But like I said, anywhere Tyler is feels like home.
But the hard part is over! We are now settled in and making this three bedroom, two bath townhouse ours. Ours. I love writing that. In this post, I want to share my feelings on living with someone because I haven't always been keen on the idea. In fact, I basically rejected the idea until Tyler.
As an only child, I had my own room from age 0 to 18. It was pure bliss. Everything was mine. Every dresser drawer: mine. All the closet space: mine. The floor in which to pile my dirty clothes on: mine. If I wanted to sleep with the door shut or with the radio on or stay up reading until 3:00 a.m., that was my prerogative. It was my room and mine alone. Sure, I had my share of sleepovers growing up, which required me to share my things and space. Sharing is a hard concept for the only child. It feels like some kind of ritual from another country just because it is an occasional occurrence rather than a daily necessity like for those who have siblings. But yes, we can do it if need be, but what keeps us going is knowing that toy or room will be all ours again.
Then came college. Freshmen were required to live on campus with a roommate. You could pay extra to get your own room, but I felt too guilty (and spoiled) to ask for that. So for the first time in my life, I had to share my living, studying, and sleeping space with another person for nine solid months. To up the ante, my roommate was also an only child.
It worked out though. We became friends and got along. There were minimal arguments about dirty dishes (her) and wanting the door closed (me). But it wasn't going to be forever. That kept me going. For the rest of college, I was fortunate enough to have my own private sleeping space. And the year after when I shared an apartment with two friends, I had my own bedroom again. A hiccup came when I moved back into my parents' house. Due to my mother's illness, she had taken my old bedroom. I was relegated to the very open basement while I tried to find a job so I could finally be an adult living on my own.
After many long months without my own room to lock myself in, I found a job. And although it perhaps wasn't the wisest financial decision, I opted to get a place of my own rather than split the rent and utilities with a couple of random college girls. I was done sharing. I was ready to stand on my own and live on my own. I LOVED IT. Everything was mine again! The kitchen: mine! The bathroom: mine! The floor in which to pile my dirty clothes on: mine!
Okay. You might be thinking most people reach a point in their life where having a roommate seems juvenile. A gaggle of female roommates is one thing, a boyfriend/fiancé/husband/partner is quite another. True. Very true. When it's a boyfriend/fiancé/husband/partner there's even more sharing involved a.k.a. the bedroom, bedroom closet, and bed. At that point in my life, I was not romantically optimistic. The idea of ever being in a relationship steady enough or strong enough to involve living together seemed like a distant dream. I decided I didn't want that anyway. Why would I ever consider shacking up or marriage? Marriage means--literally--sharing all your material possessions. I was no good at sharing, therefore I would be no good at marriage. Besides, it's the 21st century. Marriage is no longer a necessity for a woman's survival. I could live on my own, happily ever after.
But then I met Tyler. I will not say my idea of living with someone changed right then and there. I still liked having my own place even as my nights were spent there less and less frequently. We only lived five minutes apart. It's not like there were mountains to climb. But as our relationship became more and more serious, we wanted to spent more and more time together. As much time as possible, actually. If we weren't at work, we were together. I never thought I would ever want to spend that much time with another person, so no one was more surprised than me that I was giving up my precious "me-time". Tyler is just that wonderful.
By Christmas time last year, Tyler and I were practically living together. He got me a litter box for Milly to keep at his place, which sealed the deal. Milly would come over for sleepovers every now and then, but I didn't feel comfortable permanently moving her in. But since Tyler welcomed her, I had basically no reason to go "home". I was home wherever Tyler was.
My lease was going to be up in May, Tyler's in June. We decided to move in together because it was the practical thing to do (why pay two rents?) and because, more importantly, it was what our hearts wanted to do. We wanted to merge our lives. We made this decision before we got engaged, but I didn't tell my parents until after. I was struggling with how I was going to tell them that there their only daughter would be living in sin. However, they lived together when they were "only engaged", so they couldn't say shit. Ha!
I actually ended up getting out of my lease a month early. I officially moved in to Tyler's place at the end of April. We made a list of all the things we wanted: at least two bedrooms, two bathrooms, washer, dryer, and dishwasher. One frenzied week (or was it just a weekend?) we looked for, found, applied for, and signed the lease on a townhouse built in 2014 a.k.a. a NEWER and NICER place than either of our old circa 1960s ones. Then the waiting game began. We would be living in Tyler's one bedroom bachelor pad for six weeks before we could get in to our new place.
For one thing, I'm really glad I moved in with Tyler rather than it working out the other way around. I would have had a much harder time having someone move in to a space that was once mine. Selfishly, it was much easier for me to take over his space. However, although I was, of course, invited and welcome at Tyler's place, it was still his technically. Long before he ever met me, he had decided which cabinet would hold the dinner plates, etc. I was anxious for when the concept of mine and his would disappear, when all those mundane decisions would be made together.
And we're here! Yay! Tyler and I have lived in our new place for almost two weeks now. I didn't have any "anxiety" over sleeping in a new, weird place. (Our brand new, awesome pillow top mattress didn't hurt.) It felt like home immediately. But like I said, anywhere Tyler is feels like home.
Saturday, June 11, 2016
30 Day Song Challenge REDUX -- Day 26
Day 26 -- A Song You Just Discovered
"Better Place" -- Rachel Platten, Wildfire (2016)
Talk about just discovered. Two weeks ago I was driving to work when this sweet-as-honey-dipped-in-sugar song came on the radio. I was instantly hooked. First off, the simple piano melody is just lovely. I also appreciated the singer's very sincere and unshowy delivery. But it was the lyrics that really got me. This song perfectly describes how I feel now that Tyler is in my life. The lyrics may be a little cliché talking about "seeing the whole world in your eyes" and "the wind singing our song", but whatever. There is truth there, damn it. The colors are brighter because of Tyler. His kisses are like the ocean breeze. There is no more straight forward way of saying "it's better place since you came along" than "it's a better place since you came along". This is the song the Disney princess should sing at the end of the movie. Love, love, love it.
(Plus I think it's awesome that a G rated love song is on Top 40 radio. Who thought that would ever happen again?)
"Better Place" -- Rachel Platten, Wildfire (2016)
Talk about just discovered. Two weeks ago I was driving to work when this sweet-as-honey-dipped-in-sugar song came on the radio. I was instantly hooked. First off, the simple piano melody is just lovely. I also appreciated the singer's very sincere and unshowy delivery. But it was the lyrics that really got me. This song perfectly describes how I feel now that Tyler is in my life. The lyrics may be a little cliché talking about "seeing the whole world in your eyes" and "the wind singing our song", but whatever. There is truth there, damn it. The colors are brighter because of Tyler. His kisses are like the ocean breeze. There is no more straight forward way of saying "it's better place since you came along" than "it's a better place since you came along". This is the song the Disney princess should sing at the end of the movie. Love, love, love it.
(Plus I think it's awesome that a G rated love song is on Top 40 radio. Who thought that would ever happen again?)
Saturday, June 4, 2016
30 Day Song Challenge REDUX -- Day 25
Day 25 -- A Cover Song That's Worse Than the Original
"Baby, I Love Your Way" -- Big Mountain, Unity (1994)
Oh man. The choices here seem endless. However, I chose to go with something I'm forced to listen to every day at work--this reggae version of the classic Peter Frampton song.
I'm not really a fan of reggae because both my parents are. I had to listen to a lot of it growing up and unlike Pink Floyd, I haven't come around. My mother, who hardly likes any music, does in fact like reggae so it was one thing they agreed to listen to together. (My parents went to Jamaica nine times before I was born, by the way. They were going to go again but then I happened. They haven't been back since. But don't feel sorry for them. I was planned.)
So a reggae beat is not my thing in the first place. Add it to a song I rather enjoy--a somewhat whimsical but sweet little tune--and it's going to make me cranky. Then I have to hear it over and over again. Yuck.
"Baby, I Love Your Way" -- Big Mountain, Unity (1994)
Oh man. The choices here seem endless. However, I chose to go with something I'm forced to listen to every day at work--this reggae version of the classic Peter Frampton song.
I'm not really a fan of reggae because both my parents are. I had to listen to a lot of it growing up and unlike Pink Floyd, I haven't come around. My mother, who hardly likes any music, does in fact like reggae so it was one thing they agreed to listen to together. (My parents went to Jamaica nine times before I was born, by the way. They were going to go again but then I happened. They haven't been back since. But don't feel sorry for them. I was planned.)
So a reggae beat is not my thing in the first place. Add it to a song I rather enjoy--a somewhat whimsical but sweet little tune--and it's going to make me cranky. Then I have to hear it over and over again. Yuck.
Friday, June 3, 2016
30 Day Song Challenge REDUX -- Day 24
Day 24 -- A Cover Song Better Than the Original
"Crimson and Clover" -- Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, I Love Rock n' Roll (1981)
As you know by now, I grew up listening to oldies and one of the hands down most famous oldies of all time is the psychedelic slow jam "Crimson and Clover" by Tommy James and the Shondells. It's pretty nonsensical as all those psychedelic songs were apt to be in the late 60s. While the song tells of love at first sight, or at least, interest at first sight, the use of "crimson" and "clover" come from the songwriter's favorite color and flower. He liked the way those words sounded together. Go figure.
I was first introduced to the Joan Jett version--like oh so many things--on VH1 back when VH1 was all about no-longer-popular-but-still-awesome music. The fact that a woman was singing a song that used feminine pronouns blew my twelve year old mind. Plus, the original was dreamy and this one rocked. It was urgent. It was just plain cooler with its fuzzy guitars and echoey drums.
Nowadays, this version of "Crimson and Clover" is just as well known as the original partially because it is sung by and female about a female. And you know, that's getting to be a more acceptable thing in pop music. Just imagine the stir it caused in 1981! (Actually, I bet everyone just overlooked it because Joan Jett covered a lot of classic rock songs and they didn't want to think she was a yes-no-maybe-so lesbian.)
"Crimson and Clover" everybody! It's an awesome song!
"Crimson and Clover" -- Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, I Love Rock n' Roll (1981)
As you know by now, I grew up listening to oldies and one of the hands down most famous oldies of all time is the psychedelic slow jam "Crimson and Clover" by Tommy James and the Shondells. It's pretty nonsensical as all those psychedelic songs were apt to be in the late 60s. While the song tells of love at first sight, or at least, interest at first sight, the use of "crimson" and "clover" come from the songwriter's favorite color and flower. He liked the way those words sounded together. Go figure.
I was first introduced to the Joan Jett version--like oh so many things--on VH1 back when VH1 was all about no-longer-popular-but-still-awesome music. The fact that a woman was singing a song that used feminine pronouns blew my twelve year old mind. Plus, the original was dreamy and this one rocked. It was urgent. It was just plain cooler with its fuzzy guitars and echoey drums.
Nowadays, this version of "Crimson and Clover" is just as well known as the original partially because it is sung by and female about a female. And you know, that's getting to be a more acceptable thing in pop music. Just imagine the stir it caused in 1981! (Actually, I bet everyone just overlooked it because Joan Jett covered a lot of classic rock songs and they didn't want to think she was a yes-no-maybe-so lesbian.)
"Crimson and Clover" everybody! It's an awesome song!
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