When I was in high school, I had to wake up tremendously early every morning (this surely is relatable). For fear that I would oversleep, I would wake up a solid hour earlier than I had to, and drag myself downstairs to let television seep into my brains. Eventually I realized that TBS reran two episodes of Saved By The Bell back-to-back in that timeslot, but for a long time I was blissfully ignorant of my appointment with Bayside High; I used my time watching the music videos MTV and VH1 ran in the 6-7 a.m. hour. By and large these were music videos that would not make it to their afternoon music video series (e.g., TRL); they were old, pretty cool music videos, or they were barely-run singles for bands that were almost big. Occasionally they were early releases of videos that were about to become big (I cannot tell you what "Hey Ya" looked like to a guy just barely waking up). This falls somewhere in between the latter two categories.
What made music videos so impressive for me was when, and this was rare, the musicians revealed themselves to be decent actors. As a fan of Jim Jarmusch, I am sincerely always mentally casting musicians in acting roles in my theoretical future films. (Neko Case, I will write a movie around you, I promise.) I found this music video to be completely beguiling, lyrically and visually, but I maintain it is Karen O's broken vulnerability that sells the unsettling nature of this song and video.
In terms of this blog's berfday, something I am duly observing but sheepishly attempting to circumvent, having not been present for its birth, this song clearly (to me) occupies the mental space between something damaging ending and something new (and more lonely) commencing.
Sometimes all you can do is share music with your friends (or with people whom you don't know at all) in a blog with a pun title, but those expressions of feeling are sometimes all it takes to deal with the feelings themselves. I tried to play this song for (Dan) once, at the corner of Hawthorne and Orchard, but he wasn't into it. I hope you like it now Dan.
What made music videos so impressive for me was when, and this was rare, the musicians revealed themselves to be decent actors. As a fan of Jim Jarmusch, I am sincerely always mentally casting musicians in acting roles in my theoretical future films. (Neko Case, I will write a movie around you, I promise.) I found this music video to be completely beguiling, lyrically and visually, but I maintain it is Karen O's broken vulnerability that sells the unsettling nature of this song and video.
In terms of this blog's berfday, something I am duly observing but sheepishly attempting to circumvent, having not been present for its birth, this song clearly (to me) occupies the mental space between something damaging ending and something new (and more lonely) commencing.
Sometimes all you can do is share music with your friends (or with people whom you don't know at all) in a blog with a pun title, but those expressions of feeling are sometimes all it takes to deal with the feelings themselves. I tried to play this song for (Dan) once, at the corner of Hawthorne and Orchard, but he wasn't into it. I hope you like it now Dan.
