#art looking over my shoulder: 'truly fuck the song titles on this album'. me voice 'these are all off the dome'

[unloneliest]

For the tmg album asks: The Life of the World To Come?

thank you so, so much for this ask - the life of the world to come was my first mountain goats album and remains the most important to me to this day <3

the best song on the album: matthew 25:21 speaks to grief in a way that is genuinely incomparable in my experience. i think it'd be a crime to suggest any other song off this album for best song.

my favorite song on the album: extremely difficult to answer. genesis 3:23 like. changed my life. i'd heard a few tmg songs before my best friend played me genesis 3:23 but wasn't Into The Goats. and since then i've been like. guy who almost exclusively listens to the mountain goats. it also had an insane impact on my original story. but if we're permitting bonus tracks too, the itunes bonus track, enoch 18:14, is like. one of the best songs in tmg's discography to me and i love it in a place beyond words.

my least favorite song on the album: my least favorite song on this album is ezekiel 7 and the permanent efficacy of grace, but like. it's still a song with complex layers of meaning and personal emotional connection for me, i very much so love and have cried to this song, the others just all outrank it.

the most overrated song on the album: psalms 40:2. people aren't wrong to love it as much as they do, but it's the song i see recognized the most off of this album and it's far from the best song on the album as a whole! no hate to psalms 40:2, just a wish that the rest of the album got More recognition.

most underrated: 1 samuel 15:23? i don't actually know the definitive lowest rated song on this album, but i also don't think i've ever seen any love for this track. it's not My Favorite of all the songs on this album? it's not top 3 for me? but it is like really important to me. it stands at the threshold to this album and stands by your side as you enter the emotional space the album occupies. it's a guardian of sorts to me, and i treasure it, and it brings me to some crystal clear memories of a beloved friend's home. the only other transitional guardian like it i can name in the discography is going to chino, which i love just as earnestly.

the banger of all bangers: i'd be lying if i didn't say psalms 40:2, straight up. to avoid repeat answers though i'm gonna shout out romans 10:9 which was my alarm clock when i worked at an airport starbucks for the 3:30 am shift and was getting at most 3 hours of sleep at a time but frequently less.

rate from 0-10: ten. i love you the life of the world to come.

[jamiefairfaxisntcool]

/mu/core album review | Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

/mu/core album review #1

this week on /mu/core album review, we look at:

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Ah yes, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. The album that’s mostly known as either, “that one weird album from the 90s,” or, “/mu/ basic bitch meme music.” If you’re anywhere past a casual music fan, you have most-likely heard some songs off this project, if not the whole thing, doubly so if you’re into 90s culture, Indie, or any sort of Art-Rock or Folk movements. As I type this, the most popular YouTube rip of the album has about 4.3 million views, a playlist separating each track stands at 500,000 views, and the title track has a remarkable 40,733,956 plays on Spotify. Holy shit, to put that into perspective: AV Club writes that, “In The Aeroplane Over The Sea was originally slated to sell about 7,000 copies,” that’s roughly 5,819 times the predicted sales numbers of the album on just that song. This also means that this song has been listened to for approximately 131,163,338 minutes, a total of around 131,163,299 more minutes than the actual album length. Humanity has spent a collective 249 years listening to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Oh, and that’s just the title track.

If I couldn’t spell it out so clearly there, this album is fucking outrageously popular.

Even if you haven’t heard any material off the LP, this album is memed pretty heavily in the music corners of the internet. I don’t think I can find a single music meme page or forum that hasn’t jumped upon the ITAOTS or NMH bandwagon.

At this current point in time, ITAOTS has became a permanent resident in the zeitgeist of internet music culture. NMH, and by extension, it’s creator, Jeff Mangum have been elevated to a cult of personality status. The band and this project are accompanied by a never-ending choir: 15-25 year old sad white boys who cry while sing-screeching about semen and Anne Frank and poorly play open chords on their detuned Ibanez acoustics.

It’s oddly beautiful.

The album is so deceptively simple, so creatively cryptic and has all the elements of a slog faux-folk fest filled with whining that would bore me to so many tears that they could rival the sad boy indie kids who lose their e-girls to their more socially active explore-page bait counterparts. To a person not familiar with it, ITAOTS could look like an over hyped, masturbatory depression tape. It looks boring. It looks like it should be boring.

If it should be boring, then why have I only listened to it and absolutely nothing else for the last two days?

This isn’t a joke, I revisited the album of course to refresh myself before sitting down and writing this review. I kept listening, over the course of a school day, in-between production and songwriting sets, while playing games, and as I write this, I just finished my eighth spin of the record. Before those last two days, I had only listened to the album probably twice. 

I remember listening to it back in seventh grade and not particularly disliking it. I was really into Yes and a lot of other Prog and Psych bands, but I wasn’t particularly impressed with the almost yuppie voice that Jeff had used on the record compared to vocal beasts like Freddie Mercury, Bowie, and Jon Anderson. Later on, I listened in freshman year, and I appreciated it much more, and had a few songs come up in my shuffle play, but thought nothing much of it.

Now, war had changed.

part 1: i’m the fucking carrot king

As I plopped down in my computer chair, my window crackled and banged like a distant firecracker with the smack of heavy rains on a Summer afternoon. I placed my headphones firmly atop my ears, closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. I heard the opening chords of The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1 and tried not just to hear the instrumentation, but also pay attention to the lyrical content of Mr. Mangum.

When you were young, you were the king of carrot flowers And how you built a tower tumbling through the trees In holy rattlesnakes that fell all around your feet

Okay, so what the fuck is actually happening here?

Upon my listens, I inferred that Jeff is speaking to another party here, most likely a female love interest, in what seemingly starts in a nostalgic tone. This sounds almost like a picturesque, coming-of-age, Americana film. Maybe one starring Molly Ringwald and River Phoenix, with a surprise cameo from someone famous back then like Jack Nicholson. Maybe John Candy, with a John Hughes script. Everything would have those faded out, classic colors, a hearkened back era. Quickly, by halfway through the first act, the tone shifts. A darker mood, a stark, grim reminder that life wasn’t always sunny and shinning in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

And your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder And dad would throw the garbage all across the floor As we would lay and learn what each other's bodies were for

The Mang informs us of a horrific family life, specifically about what seems to be his dad’s, stepmom’s, and stepsister’s interpersonal relationships. The lines are obvious and straightforward, the life of our protagonist was rife with unhealthy familial and sexual relationships, and a sense of love and sweetness was not found there. Keep that in mind when thinking about later songs such as Oh Comely.

After the somber intro of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1, we reach my personal least favorite track on the album: The King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 2 and 3.

Look, I know the meme. “I LOOOOOOOOOVE JESUUUS CHUHRIEEEIISSSSTT,” and all that shit. I’m not even worked up about that line in particular, I just dislike Pt. 3. It’s the weakest of the upbeat songs on the album, with the weird yodel-screech voice that Gumman performs with really takes me out of the experience, which sucks because the buildup and atmosphere of Pt. 2 felt pretty amazing. Luckily, Pt. 3 is fairly short, so we don’t have to worry about it too much.

part 2: earth angel’s thesis

The title track for this album is one of the best songs on this album, no fucking contest. In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Oh Comely, The Fool, and Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2 are top contenders when discussing this album. If you like the faster, fuzzier, upbeat songs you could probably substitute The Fool for Holland, 1945.

The title track has a familiar sounding chord progression and we can hear Gum from Jet Set Radio’s saccharine but yelp-y voice belt out from atop the mountains his undying love and admiration for... Anne Frank?

What a beautiful face I have found in this place That is circling all round the sun What a beautiful dream That could flash on the screen In a blink of an eye and be gone from me

In the first verse, Geoff mentions meeting or viewing a beautiful person on this fleeting rock circling round the Sun. He also matches this with the idea that it’s truly futile for him to chase after this beauty, as it is only a dream that could escape him when he awakes. El Jefé has actually mentioned that some of his surrealist lyrics are derived from dreams. Perhaps these lines could imply a more literal dream fading? I don’t exactly know, all I know is what I interpreted.

The instrumentation of this piece is nothing straying from NMH’s usual repertoire: Mandrake on Guitar and Vocals, Scott Spillane on the Horns, Robert Schneider on Bass and Production, Julian Koster playing... something. What is he playing? Wait, give me a second.

He’s playing the Singing Saw? I thought it was like, a Theremin. What the fuck is a Singing Saw?

Oh.

Okay sure, you can play that, however the fuck you do that.

And finally we have Jeremy Barnes on Drums.

The personnel handle the music with a light, bouncy feeling, and the tone and timbre remind me of a faded, old, seaside town on the east coast. Another thing to mention is that the chord progression is G-Em-C-D; I-vi-IV-V. A funny thing I noticed is that this song shares a chord progression with tons of songs from the 50’s and early 60’s, which adds to the waning Americana feeling, but it more specifically shares that progression with Earth Angel by The Penguins. In the 80’s film, Back To The Future, Marvin Berry covers the song with his band for the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance where Marty’s dad and mom have to dance to ensure that the future stays intact. There’s no further real connection, but I thought that was kinda cool to mention.

After looking through the lyrics for In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, I will admit, as a brainlet Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 eluded me. Patrolling through Genius and some other reviews, I guess the consensus about this track was that it was about Anne Frank again? Manta Jeff’s cryptic lyricism continues to fool me. Besides the lyrics, this track mostly remains a piece of really good filler.

part 3: stop the military occupation of my brainwaves

The Fool is amazing, anyone who says it’s filler is wrong. I know I might anger some people by literally implying that Two-Headed Boy Pt. 1 was filler, but seriously The Fool just makes me a feel a way. My brain creates a scene reminiscent of a depressing diesel-punk Les Misérables. Even though Scotch Spillage’s fantastic piece for horns is beautifully imperfect, it lacks lyrical content and is short and length. So, let’s instead talk about Holland, 1945.

This awesome, uptempo, almost punk-like piece of fuzzy brass is groovy son. It’s probably the song you could show someone not familiar with this project and they’d be like, “Oh, is this Cake? Why is the lead singer singing so high now?”

Holland, 1945 is a song that you can just listen for the instrumentation. Holland, 1945 is a song that promotes peace and love. There’s so many great things I can say about Holland, 1945. How it’s theme is so perfectly fitting for today’s political climate, how it manages to blend these psychedelic and bluesy timbres with a fast and loud sound and how well it continued the semi-conceptual narrative of Joff’s admiration and love for... Anne Frank.

Okay, fuck it, I have to say it. It’s bothered me ever since I discovered it.

Why Anne Frank? Like, I know why Anne Frank, but I mean like, why, y’know? I’ll say I admire Anne Frank, she was trying her best to live a normal life in a terrifying time to be alive, but I never wanted to fuck her. xxJeffxx’s mentions of Anne kind of make me raise an eyebrow. Especially because the album’s not just about her either. When he gets sexual, it’s difficult to determine whether he is mentioning a third party or Anne, which would be pretty weird, as she was 15 when she died and Heff was 28 when he wrote this. Maybe this is just some patrician music shit that I’m too plebeian to understand, like heated toilet seats or drinking for fun rather than to drown the pain. Maybe I haven’t sat down and watched enough flowery-squarespace-sponsored-lofi-hip-hop-muzak-using-pretentious video essayists to understand it, but what do I know.

part 4: the proletariat cries

To wrap on the second half of the album, this is the half that I cried in.

Communist Daughter is a good song, but with how short it is, it left me wanting more. This track is one of the few that actually features a soft-spoken Jeffen, and its open and dark but dreamy atmosphere left my jaw agape. The mountaintops weren’t the only thing stained.

Oh Comely, Oh Comely. Oh Comely is a song that deserves its own review. The lyrical chops of The Mangum Magnum are on full display as he belts somber, brutal verse after verse, with plenty of juxtaposition between sickening, sexual and vile situations alongside a description of a sweet, innocent young girl, just trying to survive with a guitar by her side. This beautiful, lovely girl gets taken advantage by someone, some people, perhaps even Yeff himself, only seen as an easy lay, a whore, like the ones her father visits often. He disgustingly describes semen in the garden, and her making miracles with her mouth, but I didn’t get a tone similar to so many songs about “sexual-empowerment.” The song is about self-deprecating depression leading to her being used, perhaps even abused. A situation all too real, too close to many of us. As I type this, I don’t know what to think. A woman should of course have individual sexual freedom, but this song doesn’t describe that. It describes trauma, emotional, psychological trauma. Meaningless sex, a rotten smell, staining the flower of a woman, all of this language that could be simply described as gross. This isn’t a happy song about fucking bitches. This song is about how a girl wanted to play music, pluck vines and was taken advantage of, reduced to her roots, and deflowered. Fuck. I wish I could save her. In some sort of time machine.

Two-Headed Boy could refer to a number of things. I have a head canon. This girl, Comely, is being used by the Two-Headed Boy for sexual favors. The Two-Headed Boy then “repays” her in friendship and music, playing their silly little songs. On the surface, Comely assumes the Two-Headed Boy trusts her and cares for her, but really all he wants is sex. Comely, living in a broken home and without a proper male figure in their life, is conned by the Two-Headed Boy, and just wants to live a normal life. Comely is trapped. She’s living in a place that is surrounded by the texture of scum and she knows it, she just can’t call upon the strength to leave. She’s trapped in a home, a ghetto, wanting to live a normal life, but she’s been placed here by the Two-Headed Boy, who knew her mother and father were broken, and she would be too. The Two-Headed Boy broke in, claimed to be her friend, and supports her, before defiling her. Comely was pretty, bright, and intelligent. She was just in a bad situation.

Comely was Anne Frank.

Not to say that they were literally one in the same, but I mean J. Mangum (private eye) is comparing two children, ripped from their lives by this awful world, and intertwining them, blurring the lines.

Who’s the Two-Headed Boy? As I said, it could be a number of people. Nazis, Peter van Pels, hell, even Jeff Manga himself could be the Two-Headed Boy. It doesn’t matter as long as we realize the relationship between oppressed and oppressor.

There is a glimmer of hope for Comely though. Read the closing words from Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2:

Two headed boy, she is all you could need She will feed you tomatoes and radio wires And retire to sheets safe and clean But don't hate her when she gets up to leave

Comely and the Two-Headed Boy split away from each other. Comely leaves the Two-Headed Boy, and the narrator says not to hate her when she leaves. On a deeper level, this could be an introspective Jeff Mangum relating on his past. I don’t really know.

outro

Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

9/10

What did you think? Was I way off the mark, or do you agree? What should I have covered? What did you like, what did you dislike, I’m all ears. Leave a follow and a like if you liked it and I’ll see you on Wednesday.

[4birds-of-a-feather]

Chapter 26 - Man, it doesn’t show signs of stoppin’ [part 3]

Birds Of a Feather

(In the previous chapters: Layla’s stuck at SeaTac and gives a call to WC Boyfriend who, once more, confirms to be the shittiest boyfriend ever; in the meantime, Sara has reunited with her long-lost cat and an acquaintance of her family, but it wasn’t all peaches and dandelions. WARNING: the other super-short update – we know that we had promised you to update sooner, but we were busy with our job, studies and festivities – just in time to wish you a fantastic 2018!)

Sara walked upstairs back to the loft, frantically rummaging in her shoulder bag to find the apartment keys. When she arrived on the landing, she jumped. “Fuck, mr. California! You scared the shit out of me!” the girl angrily shouted, almost dropping her headphones “The fuck are you doin’ out here???” The singer was in fact sitting on the floor, next to the front door – notebook and pen in his lap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he quickly grabbed the objects and hid them behind his back “It’s just that I went for a walk but forgot my keys on the table, and Jeff’s gone to a party, so…” “No problem: Layla left me hers” she made the keys clink under Eddie’s nose, so the singer smiled and stood up while she made the lock spring open. When they went inside, Sara stopped in the hallway to hang her coat, scarf and bonnet, while Eddie was looking at her, scratching his nape. “Weren’t… weren’t you supposed to spend this day with your family?” he finally asked, almost startling her. The girl gulped, rubbed her blubber eyes and put on a rather convincing cheerful voice, trying not to let him notice her real attitude. “Oh, yes, it’s just-I went to my parents’ house and I noticed that my mom’s relatives from Portland were there too… They’re annoying and know-it-all and kind of churchy too… <Why in hell did I mention Portland? Fuckin’ A, Fancini! Congrats!> … So I just drew the attention of my dad, without making the others notice me, and I explained him that I couldn’t tolerate ‘em, so he agreed and made up some persuasive excuse too… I guess my mum will understand, even if they’re her siblings and shit like that” she ended her monologue and finished to hang all her things, while Eddie was still looking at her. “So… this means you survived” he gave her a warm smile and she did the same. “Yeah, I guess so… Man, I fuckin’ hate these festivities! Hypocrisy flows in torrents” “Don’t tell me… The fuckin’ triumph of bleeding hearts, ugh” the singer soon joined her in that anti-Christmas rant and the two of them quickly ended bursting into laughter. “Glad to see another cynical and black soul around here – the world is too full of retarded Santa’s little helpers” “Man, I hate those lil’ fuckers!” Eddie laughed again, then his eye fell upon a packet full of ribbons that was under the Christmas tree – Sara’s gaze followed his own one. “Oh, you noticed Layla’s work of art…” “… How the fuck does she know that yesterday was my birthday?!” he finally exclaimed, making the girl look at him in disbelief. “Wait a minute: yesterday was your birthday?!” “… SHIT” “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us, Eddie??? You really are grown up in the woods, for fuck’s sake!” Sara scolded him, her eyes plopping out of her head. “I don’t know… I just didn’t want to bother, that’s all” he shrugged, not knowing what else to say. “… you really are weird” the girl sighed, shaking her head “Anyway, that’s your Christmas present… Layla always remembers this kind of things so, in your shoes, I wouldn’t be bothered…” “Didn’t she buy you anything?” Ed asked her, noticing that his pack was the only one under the Christmas tree. “Who do you think you’re talkin’ to??? Of course she bought me something, I’m her fuckin’ best friend!” she gave him a little slap in the nape “But I’ve already hidden it… ya know, with that animal of Ament that freely scampers in this loft, you’ll never know what he could do to my wealth” The guy laughed again “I think I’ll take the risk – I’ll leave mine here” “As you wish, mr. California – I won’t be the one who’s gonna stop you… don’t say I didn’t warn ya” He nodded and started to go in his room’s direction, then stopped and looked at her. “I guess I’m goin’ in my room to listen to some records… Wanna join me?” Sara winced a little, but quickly regained her usual aplomb. “Yeah, why not?” she shrugged “Just gimme a minute and I’ll come” “Ok, great – I’ll leave the door open, no need to knock” The girl nodded and made her way to the bathroom, while he stood in the hallway a few other seconds; when he saw the ringlets at the end of her ponytail disappear, he finally went in his bedroom.  

<Nothing happened – you’re perfectly capable to have a natural conversation without embarrassing yourself… you’re gonna fuckin’ own this, you’ll see> Sara splashed her face, then looked at her tired reflection in the mirror: she could still spot some glitter but decided that her cheeks had already been rubbed enough – oh, and her face was the embodiment of misery. <I’m gonna be fuckin’ owned, ugh – this motivational bullshit is pathetic> She took a deep breath and made her way to Ed’s room, stopping just outside: Quadrophenia had just started playing when she peeped out from the doorjamb. “Am I still welcome?” Eddie raised his eyes from the books he was browsing and gave her a smile. “Always – come in!” he went to close the door and gestured for her to find a place to sit; she decided to take a seat on the floor, near the bookshelf where he was standing before. Soon after the guy approached her, waving something with a playful grin: “What did I tell you? Here, see for yourself” He handed her the infamous Polaroid he had taken with Joe Strummer and the girl sneered. “Since a month has almost passed, I thought you had made the whole story up…” she provoked him, without tearing her gaze from Strummer’s autograph at the bottom of the picture. “Yeah, in fact this photo is false as the fact that in 1977 I saw Springsteen and the E Street Band…” he casually added, going to sit next to her. “… you did what???” “… and I also saw The Who in 1979, when I was almost fifteen years old” “YOU LUCKY BASTARD!” Sara kicked him, making him laugh. “Why, are you telling me you never went to a concert?” Eddie mocked her with an evil smile. “Yeah, in fact Fleetwood Mac in 1980, Cat Stevens in 1976 or Led Zeppelin in 1977 were just hallucinations” “HOLY SHIT!” the guy exclaimed, surprised “Wait a minute, Cat Stevens in 1976? How old were-” “Eight years old, and he played divinely” she smiled again “Anyway, I won’t be jealous about you seeing The Who – Moon The Loon was already underground, I can tolerate it” “Shit, you were just a child! And Zeppelin at nine years old – I’m not surprised you turned out like this” Eddie spoke again, then laughed for her second statement. Soon after The Real Me began to play and Sara’s smile turned into a big grin. “The Ox is fuckin’ awesome here – I mean, I can totally say that he’s my favorite bass player without any doubt” “You love Quadrophenia too?” Eddie’s eyes lit up at the thought of a fellow fan of The Who. “Well, that’s not my favorite album made by them, but my second favorite song that they composed is here, so I guess I have to give it some credit” “Just spit out the title” “Love, Reign O’er Me, obviously” “I knew it – sooo, this means that your favorite album’s Tommy…” “Nope – Who’s Next” she gave him a mischievous grin “My favorite song is there, guess it!” The guy mentally listed the tracklist, then answered: “The Song Is Over, right?” “… you’re starting to impress me, ya know?” Sara mocked him, and he laughed. “Sooooo” after a while Ed cleared his throat “what are our plans for Christmas’ Eve?” “Well, since our beloved chef’s not here… I guess we’re fucked, mr. Surfin’ U.S.A.” “Nope, listen: food problem will be solved with pizza delivery… but what about after dinner?” “Why are you lookin’ at me as if I were the life and soul of all parties?!” “Hmm, maybe we could go out and drink somethin’…” he ignored her and went on with his suggestions. “… so then we would be surrounded by stupid people with their fuckin’ stupid Santa Claus hats or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer antlers?! No, thank you!” “Or we could reach Jeff at the party he went to…” “You really want a Seattle remake of Silent Night, Deadly Night, don’t ya?” The guy laughed again, then raised his hands in order to declare himself innocent: “Oook, I get it! How about stayin’ at home and watchin’ some old movie provided by yours truly?” “Are you really makin’ me responsible for our pre-Christmas entertainment?” “C’mon, don’t be too modest! I liked Neighbors and I’m sure-” “Of course you liked it, I kept tellin’ you that you’re Belushi’s alter-ego!” Sara interrupted him, while he stuck his tongue out. “… I was telling ya that I liked Neighbors and I’m sure you’ll do a great job this evening too, that’s all” “… Whatevs” “Great! An Italian one, please” “What? Don’t tell me you’ve ever watched one of them!” “Yep, Miracle in Milan” “NO FUCKIN’ WAY!” the girl exclaimed, sincerely enthusiastic “D’ya know that its last scene inspired the E.T.’s one with the bicycles lifting into the air?” “Shit, that’s why I had a déjà vu when I first watched it!” “Sorry, I’ll stop immediately with my movie geek act – I know it’s weird, I just can’t help it” “No problem, I learnt something new” The girl gave him a grateful smile, then resumed her considerations:  “Hmm, so you watched somethin’ from Neorealism… What about Commedia all’Italiana? Err, I mean, Italian-style comedy?” she quickly corrected herself, while Ed smiled because of those few Italian words. “Yeah, why not? I mean, Neorealism is great, but I’d like somethin’ lighter” “Well, ‘lighter’ is not the word I’d use to describe I Mostri, but it’s an awesome example of how great satire could be” “I’m in your hands, I’m sure you won’t disappoint me” Eddie cracked another smile “Dubbed?” “In your fuckin’ dreams, Vedder! I’ve got the subtitled version, this is no place for heretics!” “Yeah, I thought so… I also bet that on March you showed off the Italian flag when Cinema Paradiso won the Academy Award, am I right?” “… you almost got it” was her embarrassed answer, while the guy laughed and stood up to put his notebook in a drawer. “That’s your holy Bible full of personal lyrics, huh?” she asked him, and he immediately turned to face her, as if he had just received a punch in the face “Because that’s what your songs are… Autobiographic, like a diary” Eddie didn’t say anything and lowered his head, and soon Sara was forced to interrupt that awkward silence. “I’m-I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch but, well!, apparently that was the final result…” she wrung her hands “Man, I really suck with social interactions” “It’s ok, don’t worry” the guy finally opened his mouth again and went to sit on the floor, next to her. “Did all that stuff happen to you?” she asked, after a while. “Except for the incest, yeah… I have lacked for nothing” “… shit” she took a deep breath, trying to clear her thoughts “I’m-I’m so sorry, Ed” “Yeah, I know you really mean it” he said in a low voice, then brought his knees to the chest. “Would my humble singing your praises make you feel a little better?” “Why, did you really like the songs or are you just givin’ me a lump of sugar?” he abruptly raised his head and shot her a nasty glance. “Fuck, do I really look like a person who gives compliments away?!” she retorted, starting to get worked up. “Are we really assembling a conversation by using only questions?” he went on, finally being able to chuckle, while the girl soon followed him – she mentally thanked him for making both of them a bit more relaxed than before. “Anyway – yes, I really liked ‘em, I think you’re a worthy lyricist… At least, the few times I can understand what the fuck you’re singing” At those words the guy laughed heartily and gave her a playful push, to which she answered with another one, a bit stronger. “But yeah, jokes aside: we can totally say that I’m in presence of talent” she winked at him and he thanked her, a bit embarrassed but pleased all the same. When Eddie resumed to talk, I’m One was playing in the background. “Oh, I was almost forgetting to tell ya that I really like your voice” Sara immediately froze, then slowly turned in his direction. “I beg your pardon, what did you just say?” “I said that I like your voice… I heard you, you sing pretty well” “WHEN DID YOU HEAR ME?!” “Well, a few days ago, when we hung out at that bar and-” “Holy Marvin Gaye, I knew that the whole karaoke thing was a shitty idea!” she facepalmed. “… but I heard ya yesterday too, while you were taking a shower” “Fuckin’ A, Vedder! Since when are you overhearing me?!” the girl asked him, her eyes almost plopped out of her head. “Err, since when you’ve started to sing Elton John out loud…?” “That’s because I thought I was alone! I thought that nobody was at home, except me! And instead you were there, lurkin’ like a vulture!” At that last comparison the singer laughed out loud, making Sara even more irritated. “C’mon, don’t be offended! I just wonder why you’re freakin’ out like that!” he tried to ease the situation, given how she didn’t seem to relax. “Because I don’t want anyone to know it, genius! I don’t like it, it’s just a personal thing” “… a personal thing?” “Yeah, a promise I made to someone – someone really important, but that was just a thing between the two of us” “Hmmm, understood” he thought over something, then resumed to talk “My father… he sang too. I mean, that’s what other people told me – I met him a few times, as a family friend, but I didn’t talk to him that much… And then one day my mum took me aside and told me that who I thought was my father was actually my step-father, and that my real dad was ‘that man that once in a while came to visit us, you remember?’ but he had already died, and I-I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do, or say, or think, or feel, and-” Eddie stopped talking and took a deep breath, probably in the attempt to not cry, but Sara had already noticed his eyes becoming bright with tears. “It’s ok, Eddie, you don’t have to talk about it” she carefully put a hand on his shoulder and softly squeezed it, while he let out a deep sigh. <Am I the first one to hear his story? Well, who cares! I mean, he trusted me and told me all these things –  maybe I should tell him about-> The girl’s thoughts were interrupted by the noise of a guitar’s sound box – Ed had grabbed the instrument and now was strumming it absent-mindedly, trying to tune it. “You play guitar?” “Yeah, a little bit… Well, playing is a huge word: let’s just say that I strum away on it” “Hmmm, I see” “You’re gonna make me listen to somethin’, right?” “What?!” she almost choked “Absolutely not – this is a categorical no!” “I’m sorry but I won’t accept refusals of any type” “… are you blackmailing me?” “Hmmm, maybe… you think I am?” “I think so, Alvin without the Chipmunks!” The guy laughed: “C’mon, just a song! It’s just the two of us – nobody will ever come to know this, I promise” Sara rolled her eyes, so Eddie went on: “Silence gives consent… fine, let’s do this!” He casually plucked some strings, then finally had a flash of inspiration and began to play. “I’m sure you know this one, I saw this album in your collection” “Great! Have you searched my bedroom too?!” she hysterically asked him, but he ignored her. “C’mon, be ready! Your turn is finally coming!” the guy played the last introductory chords and Sara finally began to sing, her eyes still rolling. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly… All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…” Eddie smiled to himself and the two kept on performing the song; at a certain point he slowed down the fingerpicking and started to whistle, imitating the birds chirping, while the girl looked at him in a perplexed way – but then burst into laughter. “The hell are you doin’???” “C’mon, try it – be a blackbird too!” he suggested her, still laughing, and when she emulated him he smiled satisfied “See? That was easy” “… idiot” the girl laughed again, and resumed to sing the final lines: “You were only waiting for this moment to arise, you were only waiting for this moment to arise, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…” Eddie finished to play, then smiled at her. “Well, you did learn to fly… Congratulations on your voice” “You’re just a flatterer, but thanks” she blushed, then cleared her throat “Instead, congratulations on your guitar style! You don’t limit yourself in strummin’ away on it… you play it, Ed” “Nope, I’m not that good” “Have you ever considered the possibility of playin’ in the band? Like, for real” “In the band? A band with three guitars?” “Yeah, why not? Kind of a Lynyrd Skynyrd thing, ya know” “Well, I’m just the new guy – I don’t know if Mike and Stone would agree…” he shrugged “Plus, as I said before, I can’t seriously play it” “Hmmm, as you wish… But, in your shoes, I’d give it a try” “Who knows, maybe in the future? Like ten years from now, just gimme enough time to practice…” “Why, are you really believin’ that you guys are goin’ to last that long?!” she provoked him, and the guy laughed. “No, you’re right – but, in the meantime, I’d be really glad to make at least a duet with you at the karaoke” “No fuckin’ way, I’ll never set foot again on that goddamn place, sure as hell!” “Ok, as you wish… but, sooner or later, you will sing somethin’ with me” he pondered “Like a collaboration… I should seriously write somethin’ for two voices” “Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Vedder! This is a secret, I told ya once and I won’t tell you again: keep your mouth shut or there’ll be big troubles!” Eddie pretended to go along with her wishes and gave her a mischievous smile – then his gaze fell on something that was peeking from the pocket of her sweatshirt. “What’s that?” “Oh” the girl suddenly remembered its existence and pulled it out “Just a mixtape I was listening to before” “Can I?” he extended a hand and she gave it to him “Footprints like puddles – strange choice for a title… I like it” “It’s-err… It’s just a silly title, I wrote down random words” “It seems well put together to me…” Ed fumbled with its case and finally pulled out the tracklist. “It’s just a couple of songs for the days when I get the mean reds, nothing serious” “The… the mean reds?” he hadn’t even started to read through the track titles but stopped immediately “What’s that?” “Well… ever watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” the guy nodded and she went on “When Audrey Hepburn gets ‘em, she jumps in a cab and goes to Tiffany’s – and it calms her down, just like that” “Ok, now I get it – this right here is your personal Tiffany’s, right?” “It is” “Then it’s better if I don’t intrude” he quickly opened again the case and started to put away the tracklist, but her hand stopped him. “… Go on, I think you could appreciate it” He looked at her, a bit puzzled: “You sure?” “Yep – go on” The guy smiled and finally began to read it. “Let’s see… we’ve got Leonard Cohen – woah, Ella Fitzgerald! – Brian Eno and Tom Waits… you put The Boss too, awesome” “Yeah, Racing In The Street reminds me of the way I feel when I choose not to open my umbrella on rainy days” “I think he’d be honored to know it… well, you should totally lend this to me, there are a couple of songs in here that I don’t know and I’d like to hear ‘em” he stopped, scratching his nape a bit embarrassed “… of course, only if you feel ok with that” “Yeah – err, yeah, that’s fine… I don’t mind” “Great, thanks” “You’ll tell me what you think about it, ‘kay? And I also wanna know if you appreciated the ones you hadn’t heard before my magic tape came to your rescue” “… you just got yourself a deal” “That’s what I like to hear” Sara looked around, her gaze stopping on the surfboard in a corner, the big waves painted on some walls, the books and vinyls piled on the desk and shelves – a few were also scattered on the floor; she found out that the room really reflected Eddie’s soul – at least, for the little bits she knew about him. The girl also found herself really missing her old chamber, the one that was waiting for her in that godawful mess of her loft, with most of all her belongings stocked there and the furniture apparently put in a random way – when in reality it had been carefully arranged by her. Out of the corner of his eye Eddie clearly saw her sigh, so he quickly tried to introduce a new topic in order to offer her a little distraction. “Say… can you play some instrument?” Sara startled, a confused expression upon her face. “Who? Me?” the guy nodded and she went on “Nope – when I was a child I used to play the harmonica from time to time, but it was nothin’ serious” “Oh, I see – and you got a favorite instrument? One that you really enjoy listenin’ to, and maybe you’d also like to learn how to play?” “HA! Lemme surprise you: banjo, mandolin, kazoo – ya know, all those weird things” she listed, all proud  “Oh, and I love bass too… but don’t tell Ament, pretty please!” “Ahahaha, ok! Pinky swear” he laughed, then they entwined their little fingers and the deal was made “But yeah, really unusual choices… I was expecting something entirely different” “Like what?” “Like… I dunno – violin? Piano? Maybe the harp too… You strike me as someone who would enjoy these instruments a lot” “… I strike you as someone this ordinary? Wow, Ed – you really have a way with words” “Shit, I-I didn’t mean that, I just-” “Relax, I was just teasing you!” Sara let out a carefree laugh “I know that on the outside I may give this impression… and let’s not talk about this squeaky, little voice of mine – it’s obvious that you’d link it to a violin instead of a kazoo” The guy laughed and gave her a playful push, then resumed his observations: “See? That’s why a collaboration of the two of us would be so interesting – and stop it, your voice isn’t squeaky” “You’re the one who has to stop it, Ed! Erase this crazy idea of yours right now or-” “Or what? You’re gonna kick my ass? Punch my cute face with those small, childish hands? I don’t think so, Fancini” “VEDDER, YOU’RE SO GOING DOWN” she roared and threw a cushion at him that perfectly landed on his face. “Ouch! How can such a little person be this evil???” he grabbed another pillow and did the same with her. “You’re one to talk! Beware the mighty Big Foot!” “See?! Well, I’m going to expose you in my next song, which is gonna be this caustic piece about how one should never trust Italian girls with big, brown eyes because in reality they’re Satan’s daughters – and, the good news? I’m so gonna force you to sing some lines, the ones with the nastiest insults” he laughed again, avoiding a cushion “I can’t wait to hear your angelic voice singin’ something along the lines of ‘you’re a sewer rat decaying in a cesspool of pride’…” “Angelic my ass! Stop talking about me singin’, nobody has to fuckin’ know it!” Sara gave him a strong push that made him fell legs in the air, her irascibility growing as she heard him guffaw without restraint. “Ok, ok, nobody will ever know this thing! I swear!” he shouted breathlessly among his laughter. “… nobody will ever know what?” were the words that came out from Layla’s mouth, as she suddenly peeped out from the door.