Listen...

I just ordered Chuck Klosterman's first novel, Downtown Owl, which got released almost two weeks earlier than what I had marked on my calendar. Exciting stuff. I've always been a big fan of his writing, mostly cultural commentary. I love his perspective and his take on people. I envy his way with words. Somehow, he manages to express those ideas and feelings lurking in the depths of my mind that I only acknowledge in the time I spend alone right before falling asleep. It only frustrates me when I try to explain such thoughts. I hate stating something I find to be truly beautiful, profound, worthy of conversation, or just plain neat only to be greeted by blank stares, awkward silence, or a passing one syllable word or grunt. I think my mind works in strange ways as it's a rare thing for me to find a person that I feel I truly connect with on multiple levels. More often than not, I can only make these connections with music or books; Benjamin Gibbard, Chuck Klosterman, Jack Kerouac... you get the picture. I'm not trying to say there's anything wrong with any person I know for not wanting to talk about what I find interesting. I just often feel that there's this huge part of me that never gets to see the light of day because no one has any use for it and forcing it on someone doesn't do anybody any good. It only leads to a deeper realization that no one is listening... and then I'm back at square one.

I'm currently listening to the latest Mates of State album and I have to say I'm really feeling this music. And when I say "feeling," I don't mean it as a metaphor for really getting into it. I mean I'm honestly, physically experiencing this music. I feel it in my muscles, in my bones, in the blood pumping through my veins. I can see it when I close my eyes. It affects me so strongly at times it feels as though it should be something tangible residing within me. How could the simple process of manipulating airwaves ever produce such power? ANYWAY... I've owned "Re-arrange Us" for about 3 weeks now, but I'm finally relaxing into the sound of these songs, the layout of the tracks over the course of the album, and all of the subtle musical details hidden between the cracks. Like the gorgeous cello line in "Get Better," not emphasized that much at all until the end of the song... down-played very much by the piano, drums, and vocal harmonies. But it's there the whole time... and once you hear it, you'll never not hear it again because it almost instantly becomes one of those great comforts you depend on during gray mornings and long drives and lonely nights when there's no one to hear your heart breaking. "Everything's going to get lighter, even if it never gets better," sings Kori Gardner in her beautiful, strong, "I will not take this laying down" voice. She is backed by her husband, Jason Hammel, providing roughly perfect harmonies to her melody as he pounds out the driving rhythm on his drums. That line... I don't know what it is... but every time I hear it, something inside me swells. As though I'm finally realizing, or perhaps just being reminded, that no matter how hopeless the world may seem, there is always something that will be able to provide some sort of solace, make things "lighter," even if it's only for a moment and even if the world is shit again immediately afterward. All I have to do is step back and look for it. Like that lovely cello disguising itself amidst that piano line, there is always beauty to be found, in people, in places, in situations, in so many things, if I just slow down and make a point of looking for it. In this case, it's a song that you've probably never heard played by two musicians you probably never knew existed. Long story short, check out this album. Even if you don't like it, you've only lost about 40 minutes of your life. And if you DO like it... well, welcome to the club.

I wish you could hear what I hear. And I wish I could tell you how to hear it. And I wish that I didn't feel like an idiot, grasping at straws, as I try to explain how I crave things like this- musical experiences, connections, realizations, peace, plus some element I can't even put a name to, all rolled into one-more than the oxygen my lungs require to breathe. I want someone to understand me fully... and still want me afterward.