Music is placed somewhere and waiting for each of us to pick it up, add some spices in it, and identify with our own feelings with it, and set it as part of us, part of our memories.
The girls (band), an indie rock band was formed in San Francisco. Their music is mixed with the memories I have for SF.
Their dry vocal style and rich melody brings every song so memorable and the garage formed style rock reminds me the struggling and full-of-life years living there.
The Haight street, famous by its gathering of hippies and artist areas, where it always has lots of things going on, the Amoeba music store that looks like a giant garage with records and CDs, the immigrants areas where they set roots to, the mission neighborhood that is full of cool graffitis and delicious food, form different communities for the sake of diversity of the city.
9 years living in SF, I remember the ghetto college I went to, the university where only dream exists, and neighborhoods & the downtown I was hanging around. They carry out with memories and songs, flow to current time to remind me how I was influenced.
The addict who always passed out at night; the person who said Radiohead is too negative; the middle-class classmate who claimed if he dies the next day he won’t regret; the girl who wrote 400 pages script and seeking for identity with lines between being Asian and American; the pizza place always played rap music when I slept; the shins’ songs were flowing in the air of my college years. All of them are silhouettes now. Like every city I’ve been to, mixed with the memory which was once so rich, and it is fading out, like slow motion of smoke, clearing out before your realize that. Then you question whether you were once in it.
I’m on a ghost train
In a ghost cloud
But everything looks perfect from far away (postal service).
When I wake up, it’s another city I live in. Suddenly one day I forget who I was with yesterday. Quickly enough that I’m already familiar with the city. Around me are all new friends, new places, new things that will become memories the next day.
Suddenly I realize what I have been building here is a memorial for my past. Rootless means big amount of risk-taking, and I bring it with me for years with the changes that I fear and also the very thing opens new chapter and new version of the world.
The little squirrel on my roof dancing like ninja, don’t wake me up with your little musical note.
Don’t wake me I plan on sleeping (postal service).
When I wake up, would I be in another new city again with all the things I wanted at my hands. Will I keep moving until I feel belong or it’s no such a place so I meant to keep moving?
(postal service) We Will Become Silhouettes
And I’m screaming at the top of my lungs pretending
The echoes belong to someone
Someone/somewhere I used to know