The album Pale, by Toad the Wet Sprocket, was a big album for me in my late teens. I think I came across it in the last year or so of high school, and it’s an album that definitely followed me to college.
More than that, it was an album that I had on literal repeat, during my graduate school years. When I was writing poems, I’d often just loop this album non-stop (CD in the PC computer days).
There is a sadness and melancholy that emanates from both of these videos. Both of these videos evoke a sense of hurt and a sense of celebration, in equal measure. As does the act of sharing these videos, I think.
What’s really weird/wild to me: I remember the specific day and time, where I learned about Matt Nathanson. This was back in 2005, and it was a neighbor of Justin’s in Ukrainian Village, Michelle R.
I remember hanging out with in her apartment, and we were listening to songs on her computer. I purchased an album of his soon after, and this song has been in my head ever since. I never did get into Nathanson’s music, but this one song in particular has stayed with me.
In this video, Ben Laude breaks down Lim’s performance and explores why it was such a big deal. I have to confess – I would be hard pressed to explain how one judges or evaluates the performance of a classical piece, and was intrigued.
It’s no secret, I’m a big fan of cover songs that are a slowed-down version of the original (Gary Jules’ cover of Mad World, Mary Lou Lord’s cover of Jump).
I found myself really into this slow and haunting cover of Black Hole Sun, by Nouela
“An adolescent creature,
consumed with how it seems,
and lost within the hunger for belonging.
Sleep my child,
the world is ever wanting.”
“I truly meant it at the start
Cross my cold and empty heart
I never thought that this would happen to me
I came with virtuous intentions
And offered honest interventions
And I believed it all so innocently”
“Though all that you love will be taken some day
By the angel of death or the servants of change
In a floodwater tide without rancor or rage
Sing loud while you’re able in grief and in praise”
“I did not believe the information
Just had to trust imagination
My heart going ‘boom-boom-boom'”
“Well, if heaven is a hotel with no checkout time
And hell is just a motel with smoking rooms
Can I get an estimation when to book my destination?
So sick of waiting for my skin to prune”
“We’ve got old news
Wrapped up in old blues
We can’t afford to call
No, we don’t know where we are”
“Well, if heaven is a hotel with no checkout time
And hell is just a motel with smoking rooms
Can I get an estimation when to book my destination?”
“And I walked off you
And I walked off an old me
Oh me, oh my, I thought it was a dream
So it seemed”
“I’m afraid of heights
And you’re afraid of snakes
For once I’ve no fear of falling
As you coil in a defensive state
Won’t you tell me, dear
Do you fear to reciprocate?”
“So I pay the price, my dear
H?re’s to a measly twenty-three y?ars
I’ve got more beds to make
At the bottom of Marrowbone Lake”