The music-exciting, loud, complex but accessible-was like seeing vivid color after years of monochrome, in full fidelity even through Mark’s tinny headphones. Maybe it was because it was something that was mine, an album that I experienced independently instead of being thrust into its surroundings while someone else played it. It felt more real than what I had listened to up until then, which was all merely background music, the aural equivalent of junk food or the bland fruity paste we feed to babies. It quickly wrenched on some valve inside of me when I heard it for the first time. The black and silver album by that underpants band from The Simpsons with the long and funny name. But I remember that first time you turned up, in a math class in year eight, through a covert Discman that clearly wasn’t being hidden very well. I merely absorbed whatever my brothers listened to and developed a copycat taste of my own via osmosis, like most people with cooler older siblings seem to do. A kickstart to the shared heart.īefore you came along, I don’t think I actually had a musical identity. Neither have I… but every relationship needs a little spicing up from time to time. I’m sitting here attempting to put down in words how much you mean to me.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |