LCD Soundsystem - "Someone Great"

This song means everything to me. I can instantly recognize the pulsing intro from the first note, and I always catch my breath. Whenever it comes on my ipod, it's guaranteed at least a half-dozen replays before I can move on to something else. The hold on me is three parts. It was a song I loved from the first time I heard it. It is a song about death. And it is the song that, for me, most summarizes everything about everything that happened with John. I don't cry when I hear it; usually I just mouth the words to myself and drift off into what is a funny other-worldly moment for me. One morning, right after John's death, John in the Morning was playing seemingly everything that had to do with my John (British stuff, his favorite bands, songs that had poignant or depressing meanings to me, etc.), and he played this song, mentioning how he just played a bunch of songs about death and how this was a really strong one for him. I had never really thought much about the lyrics before that moment, but once I did, there was no going back. It had been a favorite song, and I had (ironically, it turns out) just put it on a mix for Tom since it spoke about "someone great." I didn't see what it really meant until then. That's what happens when I don't pay attention. Anyway, I'll never forgive myself for everything that happened with John, but I'll also never believe that I really ought to. And I am very, very sorry.

I wish that we could talk about it,
But there, that's the problem.
With someone new I could have started,
Too late, for beginnings.
The little things that made me harassed,
Are gone, in a moment.
I miss the way we used to argue,
Locked, in your basement.

I wake up and the phone is ringing,
Surprised, as it's early.
And that should be the perfect warning,
That something's, a problem.
To tell the truth I saw it coming,
The way, you were breathing.
But nothing can prepare you for it,
The voice, on the other, end.

The worst is all the lovely weather,
I'm sad, it's not raining.
The coffee isn't even bitter,
Because, what's the difference?
There's all the work that needs to be done,
It's late, for revision.
There's all the time and all the planning,
And songs, to be finished.

And it keeps coming,
Till the day it stops.

I wish that we could talk about it,
But there, that's the problem.
With someone new I could have started,
Too late, for beginnings.
You're smaller than my wife imagined,
Surprised, you were human.
There shouldn't be this ring of silence,
But what, are the options?

When someone great is gone.

We're safe, for the moment.
Saved,
For the moment.

Aqueduct

Last spring, I got a song from KEXP stuck in my head ("Keep It Together") and had my first real introduction to Aqueduct. Quickly obsessed, I bought both of Terry's records, discovering that I actually knew people who played on them. Not long after, the Clusterfuck of 2007 happened, and Aqueduct became my guilt-ridden spokesband for despondency. "Lying In The Bed I've Made," "You'll Get Yours," "Living A Lie," and "Laundry Baskets" were on constant repeat. Sadly, the last song, the only one I can still handle listening to, has this off-pitch shrill drone that ruins it for me. But Aqueduct represented for me, at that time, my role in John's death and the appropriate suffering that was my share of the karmic retribution settled at my door. Like the bag of clothing resting at the foot of my bed, I'm not ready to get rid of all the baggage yet, physical or emotional.

Arctic Monkeys - "Mardy Bum"

John loved the Arctic Monkeys, and was especially proud that they were from Sheffield, his university town. The fact that they are both particularly English and also from the North and also from Yorkshire placed them very high in his esteem. At the start of our relationship he got me into them, which I was hesitant about at first, as I hadn't been especially excited about the singles that were on KEXP. Mostly, it was kind of hard to tell what the hell Alex Turner says half the time, and the frequent use of colloquialisms (exemplified by The Streets, which is another matter altogether) meant that some explanation was occasionally required. John explained that being "mardy" was like being sulky or grumpy or saturnine in Yorkshire. Thus, it was decided that this was a song about me. The fact that I am described as difficult is quite accurate; that this one term sums up several of my day-to-day character manifestations is rather moreso. But I quite like the Arctic Monkeys now, and seeing them in concert at the Showbox was the last activity that I did with John.

Muse - "Plug In Baby"

I liked Muse at university, but I only had one album. Then I find out that Muse is one of Tom's favorites, and this is one of his most favorite songs. And his mobile ring (nice). For some time I tried to construe a means of making this "our" song, but there's really no way to do this. At least, no way that embraces a positive and optimistic future, one where weird bad shit doesn't happen. Like, er, reality. Anyway - love the song, makes me think of Tom, finally learned the lyrics, but not a song that will make it onto the Greatest Wedding Hits album.

The Futureheads - "Hounds of Love"

I used to find this song really irritating. From the "oh, ohoh, oh, ohoh" beginning, it was just too much. But it's one of Tom's favorite songs, and I can close my eyes and see him showing me how he and his friend Gareth used to dance to the song when it came on while they were en route to Glastonbury. I can see the shaking, the pulling shapes, and the facial expressions, and it makes me laugh. He's put it on mixes for me, so now I can listen whenever I want.

Kings of Leon - Because of the Times

Quite contrary to my experience with Aha Shake Heartbreak, my next Kings of Leon phase was when I met Tom. He, the America-phile who loves American Football (the Dallas Cowboys in particular) and soul music, had a thing for Kings of Leon as they are one of the few contemporary bands who ascribe to Tom's particularly retro music aesthetic. He was quite pleased that I liked them and owned their sophomore album (and their debut as well), and as music was one of the primary foundations of our friendship, this boded well. He gave me a copy of the newest album in April 2007 (right after it came out), and while it took me awhile to warm to the whole thing, it became something that linked him to me in my mind. "On Call" became our song, for me, and I was sentimental at that time, also liking "True Love Way"; "Charmer" was his favorite due to it's grittiness, and I now favor "Ragoo" and "Fans," the last two still having a place on my shuffle.