They Just Don't Write Em Like That Anymore

The Moldy Peaches
“The Ballad of Helen Keller and Rip van Winkle”

I refused to let Juno ruin our song. And I refuse to let the sheer holy screaming terror you suffer from ruin this song.

We Just Disagree — Dave Mason

There ain’t no good guy

There ain’t no bad guy

There’s only you and me and we just disagree

Third Eye Blind
“I Want You” (Live)

I know what you’re thinking. (This isn’t even one of their singles! Third Eye Blind sucks!) But listen to this. People know the words to one of the third-rate Third Eye Blind songs. They know all the words. And they’re singing along. And the song isn’t so bad. (“The mystery of your rhythm is so feminine?!” That line makes even the scary date rapists in the room cringe!) Well, you don’t know what you’re going on about. Even when something is shameful (I thought you were against the concept of the guilty pleasure!), and embarrassingly bad, and makes your heart hurt and your head ache—even then, there’s something to it if it’s True. And no doubt, there’s something to wanting someone, to the visceral fact of desire. (True.) Especially—especially—when the wanting is nostalgic, and untoward, and inexpressible.

Casiotone For The Painfully Alone
“Baby It’s You”

whatever happened to the girl
who let me write my name
in her tattoo
do you remember hiding out with me
in theatre number two

can you believe
that i don’t even recall
if we ever kissed

i still have your sweatshirt
i still have your records
i still have those tapes you’d made
of all your favorite songs
but i just can’t quite bring myself
to put em on

and maybe it’s too late for that now

i still have the letter you wrote
sitting on my steps
waiting for me to come home
on the night
that i did not come home
and i still have the letter where you said
those words i’d waited for
since the day we met

maybe it’s too late for that now
maybe i fucked it all up somehow
but i wrote my name on your arm in blue
baby it’s you

The Ghost of You Lingers — Spoon

Would you calm me down?

I’m all caught up in this song and this sentiment at the moment, having had a few frustrated/emotional days in the past few weeks and wondering the above. If he were here, would he calm me down? This process of relegating someone to the past, forgetting what they looked like above you and what shadows looked like across their face, putting away the impulse to get up and have a slice of bread with peanut butter with them right before sleep — it’s a long one. It takes time. It’s totally passive, because there’s nothing you can do to encourage it along. There’s nothing that makes your knowledge that their weakness is your hand along their back vanish faster.

I can’t watch a Jeopardy with a category on Lincoln’s assassination, can’t hear You Never Can Tell, can’t see American Crew pomade without feeling that ghost. Sometimes it staggers me that we will not be getting married when the best, most complete thing we used to know was each other. The other day I went to the grocery store for a big trip and had to carry all the bags back myself; next time, I will buy less, because I cannot carry it all without him.

Liars
“Pure Unevil”

Do you remember that night—I think you had preceptorial, so you couldn’t make it—I made the long drive down to Albuquerque with the Petersons and their blonde friend. We saw the liars. When angus sat down on his stool to play this song, he broke a string (on the bass!), but he soldiered on. It’s too bad you weren’t there. That was a good show.

This is the most beautiful song. It’s basically perfect. It’s just three-something minutes of pure feeling. It might kind of adolescently hermetic—ie, untarnished by experience (wouldn’t want to have empty concepts, eh babe?)—but still. We pay people to stay and live as teenagers. They are called pop stars. We pay them to stay adolescents/pre-teens/teens for->ever. Steve Perry is like twelve. But we love him.

And I used to love you. But whereas—Graduate School! Fashion Design! That Guy! You’ve changed. This song never changes. It’s pure unevil. You, on the other hand, are—

When You Were Mine — Prince

When you were mine

You were kinda sorta my best friend

So I was blind (so blind)

I love not knowing almost any Prince or various other Big Thing Bands, because when I find their music in bits and pieces, I feel as if I’m rummaging through a thrift store, finding chartreuse silk.

And if you should look back
Try to forget all the bad times
Lonely blue and sad times
And just a little bit of rain

A Little Bit of Rain — Karen Dalton