Have been spending a lot of time daydreaming lately. Mostly about my own future. Am reaching a junction in my life where I will have to make a fairly big decision. Or what feels like one anyway. So instead of confront that I prefer to fantasise.
The most common situation I dream of is the idea of having my own little farm. It'd be, preferably, a nice old stone building. I wouldn't be farming as a profession or anything. It'd just be a piece of land where I can grow my own food and grain. Maybe keep a few animals. Just enough to mean I could live off the land.
Maybe there'd be a bit of excess. Enough that I could perhaps sell a bit of veg. Would be able to use the money I make to buy a few essentials. Maybe everything I'd need so I could do plenty of baking. I might even be able to sell a bit of what I bake too.
I think that it'd be on a piece of land near Norwich, as Norwich feels like home for me right now. It'd be near enough that I could walk or cycle in (I'd have to get a lift in when I was bringing my produce in to sell at the farmer's market, of course). I'd come in a few times a week. Catch up with people I know. Maybe gatecrash the philosophy society at UEA, if my intellectual needs demand such things. Would be able to keep up with all the wonderful music and art that Norwich has to offer too.
I think, in the ideal version of my daydream, I'd have had some capital when I decided to set up my farm. Then, maybe, after I've settled into my rural lifestyle, I'd have enough money left over that I would be able to build a little recording studio. I'd be able to use it to noodle around in, recording silly little songs. I'd invite my friends and other musicians I admire to come stay on the farm and use the studio for free. Maybe I'd even be able to finance it all by renting it out now and then.
I'd be there, in the place I call home, with my animals and my land and my music and my thoughts. My friends would be nearby. And I'd feel content. Tranquil.
Occasionally, in my daydreams, there is someone there with me. I don't really know who, but someone. Someone to share my home, my land and my life with. Although at the moment that possibility seems the most remote of all, as I'm a bit of a mess. Maybe once I'm on my farm, at peace with myself, then it'll seem more real.
Until then I'll just dream.
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
And so 2010 draws closer to its end...
I am becoming increasingly out of touch with the world of popular music, which is a sure sign of getting older I suppose. It's not as if I haven't been listening to a lot of music this year, it's just that I have been spending more time looking backwards; turning to artists I might have overlooked to some extent in the past. 2010 is the year I first tried properly listening to the varied likes of Minutemen, Joni Mitchell, Roxy Music and Flipper. None of these, however, are what the "kids" are listening to these days, and I don't think any of them have featured heavily in the NME.
Which left me feeling slightly confused when it came to indulging my annual hobby of compiling a top ten of the best albums released this year, as I felt myself struggling to come up with very much. Scouring my iTunes proved therapeutic though, and I realised there had actually been quite a lot of good albums released this year (even if very few of them were either by new artists or could be said to represent much of a creative departure). So here we go...
LCD Soundsystem - This Is Happening: James Murphy has said that This Is Happening will be LCD Soundsystem's final album. Based on this evidence, if Murphy doesn't find some other outlet for his musical and songwriting talents, it will be a great loss for both anyone who enjoys mature, intelligent music and anyone who simply enjoys dancing. I'm not entirely sure that it is as good as Sound of Silver, but the very fact it is possible to consider this album as comparable to their previous effort should indicate to anyone familiar with LCD Soundsystem's past work that they have exited on a high. Sophisticated, smart and fun.
Les Savy Fav - Root for Ruin: I have to confess that this one passed me by a little bit. I'm ashamed of this fact, as I have been Les Savy Fav fan since college, so was quite surprised to see, a few weeks ago, that they'd had a new album out for a few months. Needless to say I have attempted to make up for lost time since then. Compared to their previous studio album - Let's Stay Friends - Root for Ruin is perhaps treading water a little; if anything, it could be said that it harks back to their earlier material at points. But when the water they are treading is shitkicking art-punk of a kind that nobody else is even close to touching, this is by no means a bad thing, and there is enough here to suggest that Tim Harrington et al have a few tricks left up their sleeves yet. Definitely worth getting hold of.
Joanna Newsom - Have One On Me: I'm not entirely sure about this album. Most people, having suffered from health problems related to their voice, would possibly think twice about releasing a triple album that expands their stylistic horizons whilst also exploring their musical influences. But this is what Newsom did. First time I heard it, I was underwhelmed; it felt like too much, and that the album would have benefited from more brutal editing to reduce its overall running time. However, I then later heard it again around a friend's house on vinyl, a format on which the listening experience is punctuated by the necessity of the turning over and changing of records. Somehow these pauses in the listening experience transformed it into something very different. Since then and having listen to it more I would struggle to identify any particular songs I would happily exclude, so maybe this is the record Have One On Me was always destined to be. Either way, the combination of beauty and ambition means it easily warrants a place among the top releases of the year.
Mike Patton - Mondo Cane: Mike Patton, renowned for his vocal prowess with bands such as Faith No More, Mr Bungle and Fantomas, is not exactly renowned for doing the obvious thing; the last album he released under his own name was an avant garde piece he wrote and conducted based on the Anarchist's Cookbook. But somehow Mondo Cane manages to combine being one of the most approachable and one of the most downright weird works he has ever been associated with. Patton, on this occasion, decided to release an album of versions of cinematic Italian pop music from the 40's and 50's, all recorded on tour with the help of a forty piece orchestra, a choir and a fifteen piece band. Sung primarily in Italian, in Patton's inimitable style that ranges from dark croon to manic wail, Mondo Cane manages to be both strangely familiar - it has Patton's stylistic fingerprints all over it - and utterly alien insofar as these are versions of songs from a time gone by, many of which are rendered in a style in which it is hard to imagine the composers would have ever imagined; Morricone has rarely, if ever, sounded like this before.
Arcade Fire - The Suburbs: Part of me didn't want to like this album. The snobby part of me. Arcade Fire are almost certainly at that point now where, for most bands, their popularity would mean they run the risk of either imploding dramatically or believing their own hype, starting to wear sunglasses indoors all the time and turning in to U2. But, for now at least, their musical inventiveness and lyrical intelligence means that Arcade Fire have sidestepped these options and released arguably the finest album of their career. While it lacks some of the fire of Funeral and brooding apocalypticism of Neon Bible, The Suburbs focuses on the Absurdity (in the truest sense) of the kind of life that so many of us grow up in, and that can so easily consume us. Fun stuff, eh?
Leatherface - The Stormy Petrel: I get the impression that Frankie Stubbs is feeling old sometimes these days. Considering the amount of time that he and Leatherface have been playing some of the most intense and intelligent melodic hardcore music around, this is perhaps unsurprising. It is a terrible injustice that a band as consistently brilliant as Leatherface have remained quite as overlooked as they are; although Stubbs' gravel-raw voice might have something to do with it. Either way, The Stormy Petrel is an excellent addition to their catalogue, and I hope they continue to release music for years to come yet.
Vampire Weekend - Contra: There is something unpleasantly trendy about Vampire Weekend. I've heard that they are popular with young people. And they dress funnily. But despite this, Contra was an essential part of my musical year. The album was released in January, but it is the Summer in which it finds its home. The combination of indie rock with influences from popular African and classical music make it the perfect soundtrack for the discerning music nerd looking for something both fun and intelligent to dance to in the sunshine; an idea attested to in their success on the festival circuit this year. It has to be said that, since the sunshine gave way to rain, clouds and snow, I haven't listened to it half as much, but I am almost certain that come next Summer, it will be back in regular rotation, as there aren't many albums better suited to soundtracking life outside in the warm weather.
Danger Mouse & Sparklehorse - Dark Night of the Soul: It was only in 2010 that, after lengthy legal disputes, Dark Night of the Soul finally got an official release. The fact that by this time Mark Linkous and guest vocalist Vic Chestnutt had both committed suicide adds an extra layer of poignancy to proceedings, but even beside this Dark Night of the Soul is undoubtedly an excellent album. Due to the collaborative nature of the work - it features a dazzling array of talent including Wayne Coyne, Suzanne Vega, Iggy Pop and Gruff Rhys in addition to Linkous and Danger Mouse - it can be a little hit and miss, possibly depending on the listener's feelings for whoever happens to be guesting on any particular song. Any listener should, however, find at least something here to make them appreciate what a great talent we have lost in Linkous. R.I.P.
Beach House - Teen Dream: Dark, lush and melodic, Teen Dream feels something like lost in a space between a dreamstate and waking life; that slightly woozy feeling you get when the sun creeps between the cracks in the curtains. I've managed to find it both strangely comforting and almost unbearably melancholic, largely depending on the mood I happen to be in at the time. Either way, I can't deny the that this is one of the more accomplished and affecting pop albums released this year.
Sam Amidon - I See The Sign: I'm not entirely convinced this is a great album. Although that might just be because I feel slightly guilty about enjoying his cover of R. Kelly's Relief quite as much as I do. There's more to I See The Sign than a magical ability to transform trite pop into something capable of moving even the stoniest heart though. With a voice deeply reminiscent of Nick Drake and a talent for channelling traditional folk music, Amidon has created a deeply engrossing record. Add to that a rather wonderful experience seeing him perform at Green Man this year, and I'm won over.
Which left me feeling slightly confused when it came to indulging my annual hobby of compiling a top ten of the best albums released this year, as I felt myself struggling to come up with very much. Scouring my iTunes proved therapeutic though, and I realised there had actually been quite a lot of good albums released this year (even if very few of them were either by new artists or could be said to represent much of a creative departure). So here we go...
LCD Soundsystem - This Is Happening: James Murphy has said that This Is Happening will be LCD Soundsystem's final album. Based on this evidence, if Murphy doesn't find some other outlet for his musical and songwriting talents, it will be a great loss for both anyone who enjoys mature, intelligent music and anyone who simply enjoys dancing. I'm not entirely sure that it is as good as Sound of Silver, but the very fact it is possible to consider this album as comparable to their previous effort should indicate to anyone familiar with LCD Soundsystem's past work that they have exited on a high. Sophisticated, smart and fun.
Les Savy Fav - Root for Ruin: I have to confess that this one passed me by a little bit. I'm ashamed of this fact, as I have been Les Savy Fav fan since college, so was quite surprised to see, a few weeks ago, that they'd had a new album out for a few months. Needless to say I have attempted to make up for lost time since then. Compared to their previous studio album - Let's Stay Friends - Root for Ruin is perhaps treading water a little; if anything, it could be said that it harks back to their earlier material at points. But when the water they are treading is shitkicking art-punk of a kind that nobody else is even close to touching, this is by no means a bad thing, and there is enough here to suggest that Tim Harrington et al have a few tricks left up their sleeves yet. Definitely worth getting hold of.
Joanna Newsom - Have One On Me: I'm not entirely sure about this album. Most people, having suffered from health problems related to their voice, would possibly think twice about releasing a triple album that expands their stylistic horizons whilst also exploring their musical influences. But this is what Newsom did. First time I heard it, I was underwhelmed; it felt like too much, and that the album would have benefited from more brutal editing to reduce its overall running time. However, I then later heard it again around a friend's house on vinyl, a format on which the listening experience is punctuated by the necessity of the turning over and changing of records. Somehow these pauses in the listening experience transformed it into something very different. Since then and having listen to it more I would struggle to identify any particular songs I would happily exclude, so maybe this is the record Have One On Me was always destined to be. Either way, the combination of beauty and ambition means it easily warrants a place among the top releases of the year.
Mike Patton - Mondo Cane: Mike Patton, renowned for his vocal prowess with bands such as Faith No More, Mr Bungle and Fantomas, is not exactly renowned for doing the obvious thing; the last album he released under his own name was an avant garde piece he wrote and conducted based on the Anarchist's Cookbook. But somehow Mondo Cane manages to combine being one of the most approachable and one of the most downright weird works he has ever been associated with. Patton, on this occasion, decided to release an album of versions of cinematic Italian pop music from the 40's and 50's, all recorded on tour with the help of a forty piece orchestra, a choir and a fifteen piece band. Sung primarily in Italian, in Patton's inimitable style that ranges from dark croon to manic wail, Mondo Cane manages to be both strangely familiar - it has Patton's stylistic fingerprints all over it - and utterly alien insofar as these are versions of songs from a time gone by, many of which are rendered in a style in which it is hard to imagine the composers would have ever imagined; Morricone has rarely, if ever, sounded like this before.
Arcade Fire - The Suburbs: Part of me didn't want to like this album. The snobby part of me. Arcade Fire are almost certainly at that point now where, for most bands, their popularity would mean they run the risk of either imploding dramatically or believing their own hype, starting to wear sunglasses indoors all the time and turning in to U2. But, for now at least, their musical inventiveness and lyrical intelligence means that Arcade Fire have sidestepped these options and released arguably the finest album of their career. While it lacks some of the fire of Funeral and brooding apocalypticism of Neon Bible, The Suburbs focuses on the Absurdity (in the truest sense) of the kind of life that so many of us grow up in, and that can so easily consume us. Fun stuff, eh?
Leatherface - The Stormy Petrel: I get the impression that Frankie Stubbs is feeling old sometimes these days. Considering the amount of time that he and Leatherface have been playing some of the most intense and intelligent melodic hardcore music around, this is perhaps unsurprising. It is a terrible injustice that a band as consistently brilliant as Leatherface have remained quite as overlooked as they are; although Stubbs' gravel-raw voice might have something to do with it. Either way, The Stormy Petrel is an excellent addition to their catalogue, and I hope they continue to release music for years to come yet.
Vampire Weekend - Contra: There is something unpleasantly trendy about Vampire Weekend. I've heard that they are popular with young people. And they dress funnily. But despite this, Contra was an essential part of my musical year. The album was released in January, but it is the Summer in which it finds its home. The combination of indie rock with influences from popular African and classical music make it the perfect soundtrack for the discerning music nerd looking for something both fun and intelligent to dance to in the sunshine; an idea attested to in their success on the festival circuit this year. It has to be said that, since the sunshine gave way to rain, clouds and snow, I haven't listened to it half as much, but I am almost certain that come next Summer, it will be back in regular rotation, as there aren't many albums better suited to soundtracking life outside in the warm weather.
Danger Mouse & Sparklehorse - Dark Night of the Soul: It was only in 2010 that, after lengthy legal disputes, Dark Night of the Soul finally got an official release. The fact that by this time Mark Linkous and guest vocalist Vic Chestnutt had both committed suicide adds an extra layer of poignancy to proceedings, but even beside this Dark Night of the Soul is undoubtedly an excellent album. Due to the collaborative nature of the work - it features a dazzling array of talent including Wayne Coyne, Suzanne Vega, Iggy Pop and Gruff Rhys in addition to Linkous and Danger Mouse - it can be a little hit and miss, possibly depending on the listener's feelings for whoever happens to be guesting on any particular song. Any listener should, however, find at least something here to make them appreciate what a great talent we have lost in Linkous. R.I.P.
Beach House - Teen Dream: Dark, lush and melodic, Teen Dream feels something like lost in a space between a dreamstate and waking life; that slightly woozy feeling you get when the sun creeps between the cracks in the curtains. I've managed to find it both strangely comforting and almost unbearably melancholic, largely depending on the mood I happen to be in at the time. Either way, I can't deny the that this is one of the more accomplished and affecting pop albums released this year.
Sam Amidon - I See The Sign: I'm not entirely convinced this is a great album. Although that might just be because I feel slightly guilty about enjoying his cover of R. Kelly's Relief quite as much as I do. There's more to I See The Sign than a magical ability to transform trite pop into something capable of moving even the stoniest heart though. With a voice deeply reminiscent of Nick Drake and a talent for channelling traditional folk music, Amidon has created a deeply engrossing record. Add to that a rather wonderful experience seeing him perform at Green Man this year, and I'm won over.
Saturday, 13 November 2010
Staying in...
Everyone stays in these days
I guess maybe we're getting old
Changing our minds & what we believe
Everyone stays in these days
And I miss you
But I can remember your smile
Or how it used to be
But memories fade, don't they?
With every moment you're away
From me
Can you hear a slow decay
Of photos from back when...
Or maybe that's just me
The sound I make as I breathe
Everyone stays in these days
And if you ever hear this song
A missive written in silence
And you think of me
I hope that you will smile again
The way I remember
I guess maybe we're getting old
Changing our minds & what we believe
Everyone stays in these days
And I miss you
But I can remember your smile
Or how it used to be
But memories fade, don't they?
With every moment you're away
From me
Can you hear a slow decay
Of photos from back when...
Or maybe that's just me
The sound I make as I breathe
Everyone stays in these days
And if you ever hear this song
A missive written in silence
And you think of me
I hope that you will smile again
The way I remember
Thursday, 11 November 2010
When The Skies Are Grey
The winter nights are hurting
I have lost my way
But some time before the sunrise
You will make it ok
I don't care for tomorrow
I've forgotten yesterday
And I won't make you promise anything
Just love me today
I only talk about the weather
When the skies are grey
And when you're not beside me
I find it hard to concentrate
But I don't care for tomorrow
I've forgotten yesterday
And I won't make you promise anything
Just love me today
I had words with your father
It seems we disagree
He doesn't want to understand
About you and me
How I don't care for tomorrow
I've forgotten yesterday
And I won't make you promise anything
Just love me today
I don't care for tomorrow
I've forgotten yesterday
And I won't make you promise anything
Just love me today
I have lost my way
But some time before the sunrise
You will make it ok
I don't care for tomorrow
I've forgotten yesterday
And I won't make you promise anything
Just love me today
I only talk about the weather
When the skies are grey
And when you're not beside me
I find it hard to concentrate
But I don't care for tomorrow
I've forgotten yesterday
And I won't make you promise anything
Just love me today
I had words with your father
It seems we disagree
He doesn't want to understand
About you and me
How I don't care for tomorrow
I've forgotten yesterday
And I won't make you promise anything
Just love me today
I don't care for tomorrow
I've forgotten yesterday
And I won't make you promise anything
Just love me today
Sunday, 7 November 2010
Types
There's a difference between what you do and what you know is right
I've got a creeping melancholia stealing over me tonight
Now every time I strike a match it's to light another joint
Think of all those numb evenings to which we were lost
I can only get my kicks these days from watching bad TV
It's a great comfort to me
We never really tried that hard, but we're both thankful for
All the friends that we have made somewhere down the road
I'm sorry that I am this way, and I'm sorry you got hurt
I promise that I'd intervene if I had another chance
Until then I will read and re-read
The words that you sent to me
I'm inured these days to the thousand words you say that I am worth
All the empty signs that we pass by and that we disregard
I've been living in the stories you told to keep us both warm
And I'd spend the night translating my word into yours
I prayed today, But I still don't know who it was that I prayed to
Maybe words don't count for much any more
Maybe words don't count for much any more
I've got a creeping melancholia stealing over me tonight
Now every time I strike a match it's to light another joint
Think of all those numb evenings to which we were lost
I can only get my kicks these days from watching bad TV
It's a great comfort to me
We never really tried that hard, but we're both thankful for
All the friends that we have made somewhere down the road
I'm sorry that I am this way, and I'm sorry you got hurt
I promise that I'd intervene if I had another chance
Until then I will read and re-read
The words that you sent to me
I'm inured these days to the thousand words you say that I am worth
All the empty signs that we pass by and that we disregard
I've been living in the stories you told to keep us both warm
And I'd spend the night translating my word into yours
I prayed today, But I still don't know who it was that I prayed to
Maybe words don't count for much any more
Maybe words don't count for much any more
Saturday, 6 November 2010
Freedom, Beauty & Philosophy
I recently came across a statement about philosophy from one of my all time philosophical heroes, Paul Ricoeur...
"Ethical", although a familiar enough word, is distinct from "moral". Whereas morality is consumed with right and wrong, the ethical encompasses life in its entirety with all the shades of grey left in. For Ricoeur the relation between identity and the projection of the "good life" is intimate and integral. For philosophy to be ethical would be for philosophy to play a part in who we are and how we live.
Ricoeur was a French philosopher who was a brilliant writer on, among many things, hermeneutics; the science of interpretation. I think this is relevant here because of the notion of "alienation"; part of Ricoeur's concept of interpretation is that it always involves distance; understanding necessarily implies, to some extent, criticism.
Alienation in the context of the ethical, then, implies how we become distanced from our own lives; the way that the extraordinary removes us from the ordinary, or when the ordinary becomes the uncanny. In reflecting upon anything we risk encountering strangeness within familiarity. Philosophy can help us overcome this.
Or so it seems to me. What interests me is the relationship between freedom and beauty in this process. I would argue that there are different ways in which these two qualities can exist in relation to one another, and that this relationship is shaped by the philosophical methodologies and traditions we bring to bear on the aporia we encounter.
Systematic and analytic philosophy aim for freedom through beauty. They rely upon elegance. Analytic philosophy demonstrates the beauty of the ordinary; life through the microscope. Systematic philosophy constructs elegant structures of ideas, aimed towards perfection within the limits of discourse. The freedom they grant is one of lightness; the alienation we encounter can be explained, or integrated into something else.
Therapeutic philosophy, as typified by certain interpretations of Wittgenstein, finds beauty in freedom. The alienation we encounter is a form of confusion; we see the ordinary as extraordinary because we are seeing an unusual aspect of some phenomena. As soon as we realise this, we realise that the alienation we feel is simply a result of looking at something awry. Rather than explain the aporia we dissolve it. Beauty does not emerge from the freedom this dissolution endows us with, the freedom itself is beautiful.
Hermeneutic and existentialist philosophies, however, have the potential to forge beauty from freedom. The freedom they grant us is by denying the Absolute; in the absence of God, everything is permitted. This is not to say that everything is possible; our actions are still circumscribed by our circumstances. But it means that we are free to be the authors of our own existence. Of course, this is a heavy kind of freedom. But then nobody said beauty was cheap...
As ever when I write philosophy on here, all simplistic nonsense. It's the kind of thing that you couldn't possibly agree with unless you already believed it. But, even if philosophy has nothing to do with it, freedom and beauty, both separately and in relation to one another, are surely worthy of our consideration?
"Philosophy is ethical insofar as it transforms alienation into freedom and beauty."
I will put this in context a little..."Ethical", although a familiar enough word, is distinct from "moral". Whereas morality is consumed with right and wrong, the ethical encompasses life in its entirety with all the shades of grey left in. For Ricoeur the relation between identity and the projection of the "good life" is intimate and integral. For philosophy to be ethical would be for philosophy to play a part in who we are and how we live.
Ricoeur was a French philosopher who was a brilliant writer on, among many things, hermeneutics; the science of interpretation. I think this is relevant here because of the notion of "alienation"; part of Ricoeur's concept of interpretation is that it always involves distance; understanding necessarily implies, to some extent, criticism.
Alienation in the context of the ethical, then, implies how we become distanced from our own lives; the way that the extraordinary removes us from the ordinary, or when the ordinary becomes the uncanny. In reflecting upon anything we risk encountering strangeness within familiarity. Philosophy can help us overcome this.
Or so it seems to me. What interests me is the relationship between freedom and beauty in this process. I would argue that there are different ways in which these two qualities can exist in relation to one another, and that this relationship is shaped by the philosophical methodologies and traditions we bring to bear on the aporia we encounter.
Systematic and analytic philosophy aim for freedom through beauty. They rely upon elegance. Analytic philosophy demonstrates the beauty of the ordinary; life through the microscope. Systematic philosophy constructs elegant structures of ideas, aimed towards perfection within the limits of discourse. The freedom they grant is one of lightness; the alienation we encounter can be explained, or integrated into something else.
Therapeutic philosophy, as typified by certain interpretations of Wittgenstein, finds beauty in freedom. The alienation we encounter is a form of confusion; we see the ordinary as extraordinary because we are seeing an unusual aspect of some phenomena. As soon as we realise this, we realise that the alienation we feel is simply a result of looking at something awry. Rather than explain the aporia we dissolve it. Beauty does not emerge from the freedom this dissolution endows us with, the freedom itself is beautiful.
Hermeneutic and existentialist philosophies, however, have the potential to forge beauty from freedom. The freedom they grant us is by denying the Absolute; in the absence of God, everything is permitted. This is not to say that everything is possible; our actions are still circumscribed by our circumstances. But it means that we are free to be the authors of our own existence. Of course, this is a heavy kind of freedom. But then nobody said beauty was cheap...
As ever when I write philosophy on here, all simplistic nonsense. It's the kind of thing that you couldn't possibly agree with unless you already believed it. But, even if philosophy has nothing to do with it, freedom and beauty, both separately and in relation to one another, are surely worthy of our consideration?
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Two Beautiful Songs and a Brief Meditation on Love
Today I listened to the entire back catalogue of The Weakerthans. They are a band that I love, primarily for how evocative I find the lyrics.
Two songs in particular mean a lot to me, as they seem to do a wonderful job of catching the peculiar tension inherent to love between the positive and the negative, coming from two different directions.
The first of these two songs is called Plea From A Cat Named Virtute.
The song is written from the point of view of a cat and addressed to the heartbroken owner of the cat. Virtute, the cat, loves her owner. She wants her to be happy, and believes in her strength, and is calling for her owner to take control of their life once more. What I find so stunning about the song is the violence of this; Virtute is frustrated with her owner's self obsession and is demanding they snap out of it; "I swear I'm going to bite you hard and taste your tinny blood/If you don't stop the self-defeating lies you've been repeating since the day you brought me home/I know you're strong". It is rare to find this kind of honesty in a song. So often we deny that love can possibly be a source of negative emotion because we idealise it. But anyone who has ever cared for anyone knows that it is possible to become more frustrated and angry with someone you love than anyone else precisely because you do care about them, and it is difficult to accept that they don't see themselves in the way you see them; that they can't see their own strength.
The second song is a follow up, and breaks my heart more regularly than any other song I can think of; Virtute The Cat Explains Her Departure.
This song was written after the cat that inspired the first song died. It is, in a way, far more obviously about a cat than the first, but it still has a resonance far beyond this. It is a song of irretrievable loss, but one tempered by the beauty of what has been. Love is a beautiful thing, but it will always end one way or another. The true loss is when we lose what was beautiful is what we had. The dying Virtute sings about forgetting her own name; "I can't remember the sound that you found for me". The beauty of this song for me lies in how it channels the positivity that can be found even in a lost love. Insofar as we have loved, that becomes part of who we are. It is only when we forget all that was good about love that we lose something beyond anything else, and when we know that we have lost that. For me that is true loss.
The final striking thing about these songs is how they refer to love in many forms; they are not songs about romance, although what they have to say could equally be applied to romantic love. Even friendship, real friendship, involves both positive and negative emotions, and the possibility of loss.
Love is a strange thing. It is idealised. It is Romanticised. And this is important. Especially when we are young. We need to be able to throw ourselves in to these things. We even need to be hurt, I think.
But the noblest thing we can do is to love even in the face of loss. To know that we will be hurt but to go ahead and do it anyway. It is, in many ways, much easier to despair. To cut ourselves off from the world and from those who love us, so we don't get hurt again. But this will only be a lie. We need other people. And people will care about us. And we will love again, if we let ourselves.
We need love. We need romantic love. And we need the love of friends. To trust and to love other people automatically makes you vulnerable. You are saying; "I care what you think. I care how you feel. You are part of who I am, and I hope that you feel the same." Whenever we do this we run the risk of being hurt. So it takes strength and courage to do so. But it is worth it. I think.
It ain't easy though...
Two songs in particular mean a lot to me, as they seem to do a wonderful job of catching the peculiar tension inherent to love between the positive and the negative, coming from two different directions.
The first of these two songs is called Plea From A Cat Named Virtute.
The song is written from the point of view of a cat and addressed to the heartbroken owner of the cat. Virtute, the cat, loves her owner. She wants her to be happy, and believes in her strength, and is calling for her owner to take control of their life once more. What I find so stunning about the song is the violence of this; Virtute is frustrated with her owner's self obsession and is demanding they snap out of it; "I swear I'm going to bite you hard and taste your tinny blood/If you don't stop the self-defeating lies you've been repeating since the day you brought me home/I know you're strong". It is rare to find this kind of honesty in a song. So often we deny that love can possibly be a source of negative emotion because we idealise it. But anyone who has ever cared for anyone knows that it is possible to become more frustrated and angry with someone you love than anyone else precisely because you do care about them, and it is difficult to accept that they don't see themselves in the way you see them; that they can't see their own strength.
The second song is a follow up, and breaks my heart more regularly than any other song I can think of; Virtute The Cat Explains Her Departure.
This song was written after the cat that inspired the first song died. It is, in a way, far more obviously about a cat than the first, but it still has a resonance far beyond this. It is a song of irretrievable loss, but one tempered by the beauty of what has been. Love is a beautiful thing, but it will always end one way or another. The true loss is when we lose what was beautiful is what we had. The dying Virtute sings about forgetting her own name; "I can't remember the sound that you found for me". The beauty of this song for me lies in how it channels the positivity that can be found even in a lost love. Insofar as we have loved, that becomes part of who we are. It is only when we forget all that was good about love that we lose something beyond anything else, and when we know that we have lost that. For me that is true loss.
The final striking thing about these songs is how they refer to love in many forms; they are not songs about romance, although what they have to say could equally be applied to romantic love. Even friendship, real friendship, involves both positive and negative emotions, and the possibility of loss.
Love is a strange thing. It is idealised. It is Romanticised. And this is important. Especially when we are young. We need to be able to throw ourselves in to these things. We even need to be hurt, I think.
But the noblest thing we can do is to love even in the face of loss. To know that we will be hurt but to go ahead and do it anyway. It is, in many ways, much easier to despair. To cut ourselves off from the world and from those who love us, so we don't get hurt again. But this will only be a lie. We need other people. And people will care about us. And we will love again, if we let ourselves.
We need love. We need romantic love. And we need the love of friends. To trust and to love other people automatically makes you vulnerable. You are saying; "I care what you think. I care how you feel. You are part of who I am, and I hope that you feel the same." Whenever we do this we run the risk of being hurt. So it takes strength and courage to do so. But it is worth it. I think.
It ain't easy though...
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