I have been listening to my very old (technologically speaking) iPod a lot lately. I had to order a bright, shiny new white cord. It appears so strange plugged into the scratched and chipped faded green rectangle. There are 1700, more or less, of my very favorite songs from a very specific time and place. Most of the songs came into my life because of him. Some I don't care for at all anymore. I would be fine never listening to Nick Lowe again. I always skip Dinosaur Jr. But lately all I want to listen to is the Hold Steady. That's him. I was on an M Ward kick this morning, Poison Cup, Roller-coaster. That's him. I have been diving back into Drive-by Truckers and listening so much more closely to the lyrics and how they change as the band members get older their lives wind the way they do. I catch snippets of songs in movies and shows and I am always surprised when I think, "Hey! I know that song." That's him. Like a Ship (Without a Sail)...I played about 10 times in a row because I had completely forgotten that song, until I was reminded. How could I forget something so gorgeous? So moving. So uplifting. Call and response, always. That's him. When I need bass its Morphine. When I want drums it's Blues Explosion and Superchunk. (And yes I was so bummed when the drummer left Superchunk.) I play TMBG when I am sad, and it makes me happy. Dancing Pizza Man always makes me want greasy, cheesy, dripping pizza slices.That was him. I want the Flaming Lips played at my funeral. That was him. There are songs that I added the whole album for one song, and I am now listening to the whole album and it changes everything when you listen as a whole, and that line of thinking...That's him. I still have my bluegrass he always abhorred and the grunge he always said was too mainstream to be real grunge. I still have angry girls and thumpy dance sung by pretty men. That's me.
I listen to almost nothing new. One of the only new(er) songs was him. It's a perfect driving song in the gloaming with the weird pinkish, gold light. He just randomly sent it because he thought it was pretty and knew I'd like it.
Writing Beatles songs and then playing them too loudly with messy guitars. That's him.
There are musicians coming to stadiums and event centers that I saw with only 400 people, or maybe 1000, people crammed in a tiny room pressing, jumping, singing. I don't ever want a stadium show. I am forever spoiled on big names in small places. That's him. A life of plus one and sold-out shows. The greatest gift of my life. That's him. I have not been to see live music in years. Maybe 6 or 7 years. Live music was once my most important release and my greatest joy. I miss that with every particle of the dust I am made of.
Bruce Springsteen is not well. He needs to talk about that. That's him.
There is no him now. I miss my music friend. I miss someone who understands the importance of air quotes in a concert. He always said he loved watching me watching concerts. Seeing me and knowing, since we were teens. That's him. I miss hearing the phrase, "I think you'll like this," and not being disappointed. I miss arguing and agreeing. I miss the nerd. I miss the judgmental nerd that made me a judgmental nerd. That's him.
I still spin that single.
But it don't sound that simple anymore.
No one talks to me that way anymore.
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