Dec 5, 2007

If You Take Me There, To Stand In My Hollow Hypocampus

Jesse Hotchkiss - Catch A Ride - (2004)

My music remembers for me. It remembers the sheet of dust on the flat of the piano and how it was a tablet for our fingers when using the keys was too complicated. It remembers the overstuffed pillows muffling your relaxed hum and it even stayed awake to watch us as we slept. It remembers interruptions of loud neighbors, how we waited until the end of song to yell through the blinds, and then started the album all over again to rebuild the inertia. It remembers the bottles and the holes that were left on the shelf. My music remembers things I don't. Following its wanderings late at night is an interface to find places and times I've long forgotten. Often when I reach these spaces, the comforting feeling of their existence overrides the initial frustration at the lack of an accurate memory. Much like standing in an empty room of a previous house and less remembering a specific story than the pure importance of the place. I can feel this warmly in my music, if I accept that this history will continue to exist without me. If I appreciate that these connections will live on after amyloid plaque clogs my synapses and grates me into dust on the piano.

Radiohead - Last Flowers (mp3)

Radiohead - How I Made My Millions (mp3)


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