s&g
soul and groove. sugar and ginger. simmer and grieve. simon and garfunkel.
each song has a time of day. iris, for example, sounds sexy any time of noon, but if you really must know the song - fill it in your cup, swirl it around, let it run over your teeth and feel the sun set down your throat - then you must listen to iris at 3am, after your eyes have soaked in the darkness and learnt to swim. that is when the song really hums and shakes itself all over you.
the best time for simon and garfunkel is similarly specific to the quality of light available. you don't want to flood the room with color; a song like scarborough fair might be too shy to step out. but try listening to this faraway lover's hymn with the light softened to a dull peach, then watch as the song tiptoes around the room, turning darkness to glass and dust to pigments of rose.
the 59th street bridge song (feelin' groovy) might have you fooled as a morning song. but evenings are really the best time to feel groovy, because that is when you start to think of death, swollen ankles and the commute home. this is also the best time to talk to lamp-posts because they've heard a fair number of good stories by the evening. if you have a secret, don't tell it to a bird.
the boxer is a good song to listen to on your way to work. the image of an ugly bruiser in red shorts and torn boxing gloves finding comfort at the breast of a tired whore will hopefully remind you of the devastating effects of kindness and a hug. and that heroes crumble easy.
mrs. robinson is for to listen to as you drive, maybe afer lunch. primarily because it's such a good song to wait in traffic to. as you will the light to turn green, and that vein in your temple starts its slow scream, it helps to hear the voice of such cheerful doom. you have no say in anything, your fate is controlled not by big brother as much as big sister, the starched matron of holy authority from one flew over the cuckoo's nest. straitjacket with a fur collar.
not all songs fit as neatly within the 24-hour day. el condor pasa (if i could) is a rainy day song. sure, it also works in drier climes, but that's sort of like eating a muffin without coffee. lovely, but you crave something to wash it down with.
each song has a time of day. iris, for example, sounds sexy any time of noon, but if you really must know the song - fill it in your cup, swirl it around, let it run over your teeth and feel the sun set down your throat - then you must listen to iris at 3am, after your eyes have soaked in the darkness and learnt to swim. that is when the song really hums and shakes itself all over you.
the best time for simon and garfunkel is similarly specific to the quality of light available. you don't want to flood the room with color; a song like scarborough fair might be too shy to step out. but try listening to this faraway lover's hymn with the light softened to a dull peach, then watch as the song tiptoes around the room, turning darkness to glass and dust to pigments of rose.
the 59th street bridge song (feelin' groovy) might have you fooled as a morning song. but evenings are really the best time to feel groovy, because that is when you start to think of death, swollen ankles and the commute home. this is also the best time to talk to lamp-posts because they've heard a fair number of good stories by the evening. if you have a secret, don't tell it to a bird.
the boxer is a good song to listen to on your way to work. the image of an ugly bruiser in red shorts and torn boxing gloves finding comfort at the breast of a tired whore will hopefully remind you of the devastating effects of kindness and a hug. and that heroes crumble easy.
mrs. robinson is for to listen to as you drive, maybe afer lunch. primarily because it's such a good song to wait in traffic to. as you will the light to turn green, and that vein in your temple starts its slow scream, it helps to hear the voice of such cheerful doom. you have no say in anything, your fate is controlled not by big brother as much as big sister, the starched matron of holy authority from one flew over the cuckoo's nest. straitjacket with a fur collar.
not all songs fit as neatly within the 24-hour day. el condor pasa (if i could) is a rainy day song. sure, it also works in drier climes, but that's sort of like eating a muffin without coffee. lovely, but you crave something to wash it down with.
posted by Deepa at 1:09 AM
2 Comments:
Thank you.
http://3potties.blogspot.com/2005/06/blog-hopping.html
Iyer
I found that very moving and in depth, that music has a time in the day to be listerned to... I will pay more intenstion to it when I hear my music
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