Had the pleasure of seeing that amazing, brooding bastard Bon Iver last night. It was spectacular the way he could invoke emotion with only his voice and a guitar.
But it made me realize the way we digest music is completely reliant on a slice in time. When I fell in love with Bon Iver I was miserable- he was my teammate, my brother. I could curl up in a ball and spit my frustration musically like he would if ever he got his dexterous fingers on "Emma".
Hearing him sing about anorexic beauty (skinny love? What else could it be about), I realized, tragically, that I would not be able to swallow his emotion as an accomplice any longer.
Being happy I no longer feel the same about that first album. I can't relate, I won't relate.
I wish I could forever listen to RATM and be in fury, Phoenix and want to skip in my shoes, and Bon Iver and want to wet the earth with the blood of my veins. But I can't. That time is gone, that mood forgotten. That album will always be a snapshot in time of a Me of old.
It saddens me, but in reality it is good to see I'm evolving and growing as a person- I told you I would mom! Bury your Emma and find your Lemonade.
Someone should tell him to date a girl in Mexico.
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