How NOT to write about music – 109. Dream Wife

Dream-Wife

Every time I hear this song, I want to hear it again.

Every time I hear this song, I stumble around and flail searching around for superlatives, fresh ways of drawing attention. I am still that kid down the front of shows, limbs thrashing wildly in a dance born from sexual frustration, frustrated at my lack of articulacy: enticing, goading, cheering, trying to drag the immovable around me into The Dance. I am still that kid unable to form full sentences, hammering out wild exclamations of joy and euphoria in the dead of night, starting every review 30 times because Tippex just don’t do it and computers ain’t been invented yet, shouting fruitlessly into The Void, hammering my head against one brick wall after another: just trying to communicate. Passion. Anything. Passion. Anything.

Every time I hear this song, I want to hear it again.

Every time I hear this song I am dancing, limbs contorted, face a blur of heated emotion, trying to punch higher and higher, reaching new heights of excitement and crazed desire, useless in my impotency but fully aware of my limitations and not caring anyway. Every time I hear this song I can’t wait for it to finish so I can start playing it again. The smile across my face is one hard-won through experience, and fleeting because of time. The smile across my face is nothing to do with circumstance or context but comes from being cast adrift, lost in the moment, lost in appreciation for the way just one syllable, one guitar chord, can be distorted to take on fresh meanings, fresh understandings with every new listen.

You never listen to the same song the same way twice.

This time. Frustration.

This time: Euphoric ecstasy.

This time: Sadness.

This time: Desire, driven by knowledge of limitations.

This time: Revitalised.

This time: Impatience.

This time: a tightly wound coil.

This time. Next time. This time. Next time.

And every time I hear this song it makes me think of you. Still. It makes me think of you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s