This song reminds me of Scranton, PA. When I first heard it, I loved the honesty it commanded, and it made me reflect on myself1. “No one liked it when you said that when you die you’re really dead,” reminds me of the many times in my life where I’ve said things that people don’t like– opinions, jokes, etc. The following segment has background vocals going “stop it, stop it, stop it,” over and over and the song starts to close in on me and make me feel paranoid. The Teeth had this LP and one EP before they disbanded. Before then they played in Scranton and I thought I’d go and see them. I didn’t know anybody who was going, though. I figured that was okay, and I dragged a friend with me. When we got to the venue, the people outside looked so much older, cooler, hipper than I did. I felt really out of place, like they would laugh at me or hate me or I’d misstep and piss someone off (and the venue looked small, made for easy missteps). I wussed out and didn’t go in. Within a few months the band broke up, and I still feel really foolish for not going inside and seeing them. It sure didn’t help them to not buy a ticket, and it sure didn’t help me. Looking back, I’m not sure if things would go down too differently today, but I have gone to the movies alone and that’s a good step. It’s not so much about having people see me as “alone,” because I often don’t mind that, but the sense that if anything were to happen (good or bad) I wouldn’t have someone to back me up or share it with. With twitter and all that shit, people share too much too often, but it’s just not the same as having someone by your side to go through it with.
- Not every line. Sometimes I think that people assume that– people I know– that every line must appeal to you personally if you say that you feel like you understand a song. [↩]