Set My Sights on Monday

This seems a little apropos because Pandora, the Music Snob, just told us all about her music and, low and behold, the only post I have archived is from June 5th and it's about music, so let's talk about it.

Music is mood. I've spent many a day arranging the soundtrack of my life, if my life were to happen to be made into a movie, which is currently not in the works somehow. A fact that never ceases to shock me.

But there's a song that's just right for every mood. I baseline at "Sister Golden Hair:" 

"well, I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damned depressed,
that I set my sights on Monday, and I got myself undressed."

If I'm sad, I'm more "Wish You Were Here," If things are going my way, "Close to Me," and if I am determined that regardless of present reality, things will go my way because I will make them whether they like it or not, then it's "Santa Monica."

It's actually "Santa Monica" quite a lot. On second thought, maybe I baseline there.

Whatever. There are certain songs that make everything seem like it's happening in slow motion, other songs that speed time up, and a few that freeze time altogether. I usually know which one I'm feeling.

If I'm dancing in the shower it's probably true that I'm feeling a drunken-dj mix of "Gold Digger" and "Sexy Back" but, quite frankly, I have no desire to share the details of that information with you other than to say that this weekend there was a lot of shower dancing and it seemed like a lie of omission to not include these songs.

Moving on.

I've never been a music snob. Not in the traditional sense. I will walk off the dance floor if someone spins "Holiday" by Madonna, but that's not actually snobbery, more of a visceral reaction or a reflex, like gagging or sneezing. I hardly notice it happens. Also, "Careless Whisper" by George Michael makes me feel like I've just been violated.

I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate---did I mention "hate"--that song. I am absolutely positive I hate no song more, although "Roxanne" is only mildly better. I cannot believe that anyone listens to them, let alone enjoys it. Being swarmed by fire ants is more appealing.

I'm going to have to take a moment to twitch.

Okay.

Mostly I have favorites out of every single genre, with the possible exception of death metal, but only because it makes my ears bleed. Oh, and techno is maybe wonderful when one is heavily drugged--I don't know.  I do, however, know techno to be impossible to tolerate under any state of consciousness I've experienced up until now. But I digress.

I will listen to alternative, pop, rock, blues, soul, country, metal, classical, decade genres (not anything that can be played on a phonograph, the vocals creep me way out), and world music. Children's music, too. I'm flexible. However, there are whole swaths of popular songs I've never heard because three notes into the music, I switch stations. I can tell instantly whether I will hate a song.

I hate lots--every genre, every decade. So instantly and without reflection, are undesirable songs dismissed,I can't even tell you what the names of the songs are. I wouldn't recognize them if I heard them in an elevator. Those songs are not only dead to me, they were never born. Now, I realize I have named two songs that I hate but those among you who are quick with timelines will realize that I had to listen to those songs if only because  I was a child and my mother chose the car radio station.

That doesn't happen anymore.

It also rarely happens anymore that I feel my life is a movie, complete with a soundtrack, and that other people exist only to be extras in my drama/comedy/satire/romance/mystery/horror/whatever. I don't need the privacy afforded to one by a headset and a mix tape. I don't need to drown out the world or my parents or create an individual head space for myself.

And even if I did, I simply no longer have that luxury.

Except for when I'm dancing in the shower but, remember, we promised not to discuss that.

Until Pandora came along, I hadn't heard, or at least noticed, a new song in years. That may be an exaggeration but if it is, it's not by much. But lately I've got more time to notice, and lately I feel like humming and singing again, and lately I feel like maybe I forgot that this is my life, I am the star, and the ending will be happy and glorious and there will be a kick-*ss song playing during the credits, probably by Death Cab for Cutie (thank you, Pandora).

Oh, and the out-takes will be hilarious.

Comments

[pandora]

polly,

i've been trying to compile the soundtrack to my life for some time now.
this is what i've gotten so far:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fCERn_1hgg
makes me feel like a sexy secret agent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I7UvbwCjXUk
this is my dance-around-the-house-sometimes-naked song.
oh, i've done it.

check death cab's new EP "The Open Door"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Rh_hKq_cTg

check the postal service as ben gibbard also fronts them.
they're like pre-death cab and slightly more electronic.

ps:
get the free single of the week off itunes.

[Bookgirl]

If I ever get my own tv show, the credits would be me frolicking around New York City, a la Marlo Thomas in That Girl. I'd be wearing a swing dress and either peep toe heels or brightly patterned rain boots, carrying a giant red umbrella, and Mama Cass's Make Your Own Kind of Music would be playing. Not that I've given this some thought...

[B.]

Then there is that song that my mother played on the 8-track in our giant boat of a car when I was four-years old that made me feel so secure (and still does): Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman Hear Me Roar". It's great to hear on the drive to a presentation.

Oh, the embarrassments I'll share with the right people.

[The Dol]

B, I will never be able to hear the Bee Gees without thinking about my dad. He used to put a Bee Gees record on, and I would dance enthusiastically around the room in a sort of mime style.

Cool is my middle name.