(this is what I wanted people to read before listening to my album):
I’ve struggled thinking how to say this in a way that you will be sure to hear because we've been raised in a culture that tries to shame us into believing that doing anything with sincerety just makes us pretentious party-poopers; that -- if we’re not spouting jaundiced jokey-jokes or giving a "whuddya gonna do?" shoulder-shrug immediately after talking about anything having to do with real life -- we should learn to either "lighten up" or "calm down. So please understand that I will be pouring my stupid guts out here at a loss trying to get through to you, hoping that life might make a bit more sense for the both of us if we can manage to actually connect before this thing is over.
Because these songs were not made to be your background music, or licensed for commercials to help sell you more stuff you don't need, or to be played in a tender-ish moment of some film full of 'attractive-yet-quirky' white people, or blasted at your party (or pumped on any dance floor that's larger than your bedroom rug, for that matter!). This is reflective music. Critical listening music. Secretly-cupping-the-earbuds-hidden-underneath-your-shirtsleeve-in-school-or-work-or-church-because-it-screams-actual-truth-and-reminds-you-you’re-alive music. Unabashedly-dreaming-out-loud-to-each-other-about-how-that-sensation-we-feel-of- monsters-mauling-our-soul-isn't-just-a-cute-metaphor-for-feeling-"crazy"-but-a-legitimate-manifestation-of-humanity’s-desperate-attempts-to-be-heard-so-that-we-will-be-propelled-to-work-together-and-help-save-it music (is that alright?).
In these next fifty-seven minutes, you will not be judged . You won't need to check your reflection to make sure that your bangs are falling just the way you think looks the most flattering over your forehead, or adjust the inflection of your voice to blend in with the company you keep, or cover your mouth when you find something funny because you don’t like your smile or your teeth or your gums or your breath or the sound of your laugh (or the wrinkles it causes) because in the next fifty-seven minutes you and I will be invisible scientists observing only abstract words and ideas, catching and inspecting each little bugger that floats, flutters, wizzes, wiggles, bounces or buzzes by us with nothing less than pie-eyed delight. But before we can begin, a have a polite request to ask:
Could we please be alone?
I mean power down your phone (then hide it in a drawer!), shut off your computer, unplug your television, get comfortable, close your eyes (you can read the other pages after it’s all over), press play and just listen.
Now, in a few seconds, we are going to be kids again, okay? Our hopes will not be contingent upon money because we will have no concept of such things to weigh us down. No one will scold us or tell us we’re “wrong” (or ”weird,” or “stupid,” or “silly,” or..) for a single thought we have. We will just float through time and space, and the universe and all it's possibilities will seem infinite again.
Ready? Set...
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