It’s funny how the body sometimes works. The last couple of days my hearing has been somewhat impaired due to (I think) an infection. It’s been bugging me – not being able to hear music in the same way as I usually can. But instead, I’ve been able to see… patterns. See good stories everywhere. Everything has seemed more picturesque. My dreams have also gone up a notch. I remember them very vividly, and they are concentrated on very interesting topics. Of course, all this – art-side-to-life – can probably be boiled down to the fact that, just before the (possible) infection, I started listening to Galaxie 500.
Good music can never get to you at anything but the right moment. I would have loved to find Galaxie 500 3-4 years back, but for very different reasons than now. Back then it would have been because I hadn’t seen anything like it before. Dreampop/dreamgaze back then wasn’t anything I was familiar with. Like most people my age, it came to me through Beach House’s Teen Dream. I would have loved it because it’s so easy to love. I mean, how can you not love it? Sure, the vocals can probably be difficult if you’re not into that kind of singing. Thinking of it, I might have taken a slight dislike to the vocals back then.
The reason I love it now, is that it’s another – but very different – version of the whole dream-genre. Much more related to Mazzy Star than Beach House, but at the same tame it seems more related to Talk Talk than to Mazzy Star, and at times it seems like a jazzy brother to The Cure. There’s so much going on with such simple methods, and they sound like everything just as they don’t sound like anything else at all. I love it now, because I have all these references and can still see Galaxie 500 as a completely individual band that I haven’t heard anyone copy.
I miss the times when I would just delve into an album and let it swallow me whole. I remember that feeling with Ágætis Byrjun, ( ) and Takk…, and some more albums I heard around that time (2007-8, I was late to the party). I was young and hadn’t ever really heard ‘music’. You know, albums by bands who committed to the album. It was such a raw experience, and I could do it again and again with those truly great albums. It really felt like soul-searching.
I can’t do that anymore, or: I only rarely experience that anymore. I’m sure it comes down to having just heard so much music by now that it takes so much more for me to be drawn in like I used to. And I think too much. Somewhere along the way, I started noticing and knowing what pleasure music gave me, and ever since I found out I haven’t really been able to enjoy it in the same way. It’s like: when you know it, you want to look for it. And when you look for it, you won’t find it. I’ve probably talked about this before when writing about concerts.
But I think Galaxie 500 has given me back the ability to truly be one with an album. Thank you.
Standing on the roof
surrounded by the sea of city lights
I look for you in every window
seeing through the blur
my focus isn’t working these days
there’s a you in every house
and there’s a me on every rooftop
never an us in the same place
at the same time as
the same time as
the same time as I finish my thought
always concerning you
all-stopping when spotting you
right there I find you
of course you were there
of course you are there
standing alone looking out
the horizon of city lights
stretching out before your eyes
slightly blinded you squint
slightly squinting you see
you see me
you see me see you
you see me see you see me
don’t turn away