Self-Control is a Funny Thing. (Now with music!)

As I'm getting older, I'm noticing more and more that I'm very good at exercising self-control, but only in certain ways. My self-control, which a lot of people describe as "impeccable,"* usually involves a lot of workarounds. The perfect example of this is my speakers.

My speakers are blown and have been for years. One of my vices, and probably my worst habit, is listening to loud music. I mean loud. I know people who listen to loud music, and they complain about the volume of my music. I just can't help it, and I know this.

Ergo, I have not purchased new speakers. Why? Because I know I'll blow them too and it will be a ridiculous waste of money. Everyone tells me to turn the music down and buy new speakers - and people have even offered, neigh threatened, to buy me new ones, but I still refuse. I know myself. I know I won't be able to turn it down.

Why is this?

Why do I have enough self-control and sense not to buy new speakers, but not enough self-control and sense to turn down the volume (or geez, just not turn it up in the first place)?

I'm annoyed with myself as I ask this question, and as I sit here listening to "Search and Destroy" at a decibel level that could quite possibly annoy my neighbors too.

I'm not planning on having these speakers forever. I'm assuming that one day I'll grow out of this "need for loud" and be able to listen to music at a reasonable level. But what if I don't? I know at least one adult who never did, and who only started to turn things down when his hearing got so bad that loud music began to hurt his ears.

The most ironic part is that I value my hearing. About a year ago, at a time when I was still going to a lot of shows, I started wearing ear plugs to hear live music (probably one of the best decisions I ever made), and yet in an environment where I can control the noise level, I choose not to. I almost feel like I would wear ear plugs in my bedroom before I'd turn it down. Am I the only one this crazy about loud music? Am I the only one this crazy?


There are a few songs, in particular, that are not properly appreciated unless listened to at high volume**:

-"Reptilia" by The Strokes
-"The Revolutionary Politics of Dance" by An Albatross
- "Watch Out" by Atmosphere (and also "Smart Went Crazy")
-"Ah! Leah!" by Donnie Iris (this, my friends, goes without saying)
- "Us" By Regina Spektor
-"Search and Destroy" by Iggy and the Stooges (unfortunately the only decent version I could find is set to a montage from Platoon which is too violent for my taste, albeit tough and pretty well done.)
-"Laid" by James
-"My Name is Jonas" by Weezer (especially the 4-party harmony toward the end -- this is also an amazing song to listen to at the beginning of a run because of the way it builds)
-"Sex Type Thing" by Stone Temple Pilots (oooh early 90s videos.)
- "Starlight" by Muse
-"District Sleeps Alone Tonight" by The Postal Service (especially starting at 2 minutes 18 seconds - and I hate to be such a girl but "Brand New Colony" belongs on this list too)
-"Wish" by Nine Inch Nails (I don't think this is the version I have, but you get the idea)
-"Let Go" by Frou Frou (another girly one)
-"Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2 (the video and the story behind it are both amazing, this linked video gives a little backstory before the video itself.)
- "Pyramid Song" by Radiohead
-"Staring at the Sun" and "Wolf Like Me" ***by TV on the Radio (and "Let the Devil in," too -- which I also believe to be the best song to listen to while speed training)
-"Here Right Here" by Sensefield. (Believe it or not, I could not find a copy of "Here Right Here" on the Web. I did find an acoustic cover by a kid with a surprisingly nice voice who adds a few nice, personal touches to the song (despite having listed the title wrong). Bear in mind the original isn't unplugged and probably wasn't recorded from a laundry room sink.)
- "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin (and I don't even want to start thinking of others because there a million)
-"Twilight" by Elliott Smith
-"XYU" by Smashing Pumpkins (and most definitely "Cherub Rock")
-"What You know" by TI (amazing)
-"I'm not Talking" by The Yardbirds
-"Tyler" by The Toadies
-"Blood Red Summer" by Coheed and Cambria
-"Take Me Home" Reggie and the Full Effect
-"A Stroke of Genius" by Freelance Hellraiser (hah!)
"Cigarettes Will Kill You" and "Apply Candy" by Ben Lee (even though "Apple Candy" breaks my heart)
-"The Woman in You" Ben Harper


This is list is longer than I thought it would be, and I'm sure I'll think of more. I guess I still have a lot of growing to do before I buy those new speakers.

Is that such a bad thing, though? Aside from the hearing loss, I don't think it's so bad that I enjoy music this much. I guess it's a shame that I'm so picky about the way I enjoy it, but assuming I don't actually bother my neighbors as much as I sometimes imagine that I do, I think the pleasure is worth the pain. Although, I say this now and I'm sure that when I'm half-deaf I'll kick myself repeatedly for not listening to everyone - but then again, if that happens, I won't be able to hear them complaining anyway.


* I say this with a hint of irony, or sarcasm, or humor - because I don't think my self-discipline is all that great, it just manifests itself in very visible ways so people seem to think it is (I could be onto something here).
**Feel free to mock my musical taste. Also, by way of a disclaimer, none of the songs I put up are censored versions.
***Does anyone else feel like TVotR really dropped the ball on the "Wolf Like Me" video? I was so disappointed.

Public Service Announcement

Consider this a Public Service Announcement:

To all you folks out there who love the song "Son of a Bitch" by AC/DC, I have some bad news for you: "Son of a bitch," by AC/DC, doesn't exist.

"But wait a minute" you say, "just wait one minute."

Now you're messin' with - a son of a bitch

"It has to exist, I know the words and everything!"

Again, no, it doesn't.

The song you, and so many others, call "Son of a Bitch" by AC/DC, is actually "Hair of the Dog," by Nazareth.

"Wait a second, every-rose-has-its-thorn-Nazareth?"

No, that was Poison.

"Oh riiiight. But wait, are you sure? Cause I know lots of people who love that song. I even downloaded 'son of a bitch' by AC/DC off of Napster, and my friends all have it on their ipods."

The other "ugly" side of illegal file-sharing is that it propogates misinformation - like attributing one band's song to another, better known band, because the lead singers kind of sound the same.

"Look I'm not sure you're right, cause I love AC/DC. I can even tell the Bon Scott stuff from the Brian Johnson stuff."

And for that I am truly sorry. Look, I love AC/DC as much as any red-blooded, true-American, freedom-loving, terrorist-hating,Western Pennsylvania girl, but the minute I can start to tell Bon Scott from Brian Johnson (or want to), I'm kicking this love affair to the curb. But seriously, check the internet, it's on my side, and the internet never lies.

Keep the Faith

I'm writing instead of getting to bed at a reasonable hour for work tomorrow. However, much to my adult side's chagrin, I think this is a good thing.

On Friday at work, my boss told me the story of an elusive co-worker (I've yet to meet him, but his was both the first name I heard, and the name I hear most frequently in the office). She told me how he and his brother both immigrated (she thinks from Serbia) to go to school in Pittsburgh. He (the coworker) went to Pitt, and his brother went to CMU to study music. After earning a master's in music, the brother, in a fit of frustration (and I'm sure some despair too) because he couldn't find a job, gave it up. He stopped playing music. He went back to CMU and got a master's in computer science.

My boss told me she imagined his instrument (which remained nameless in the conversation) sitting in a corner gathering dust. She found this especially sad as the brother now has a young child who could be blessed with his father's playing.

I am in total agreement with her about the idea of exposing young children to music. Hearing music as a child is fantastic. Hearing someone play music passionately is fantastic. When I was young, my parents took me to the symphony a few times a year, and while I didn't understand the music, I loved going. I loved seeing the symphony in Chautauqua when I was little, too. (to be honest, I even loved hearing the symphony practice in Chautauqua - but then, Chautauqua is a lot like the Walgreen's commercials: perfect.)

My mom took me to see Ray Charles when I was 5*, and my dad taught me to use the cd player and drag a chair into the living room so I could play my favorite Beatles' bootleg, Backtrack, at around the same time. So anyway, yes, exposing young children to music is important.

However, I disagree with my boss about the finality of all of this. I maintained at the time (and I still do) that this is temporary. He is frustrated. Being an artist is frustrating. Being an unsucessful artist (when you have the potential to be, or already are, great) can be mind-numbing. It's obvious to me that the brother is just numbed right now. But it's not permanent.

Loving art is a lot like loving a person, except without the benefit of talking. It's always a one-sided conversation. Writing sometimes leaves me dying for my writing to respond to me. It never does. After some subconscious cost/benefit analyis, you decide whether the relationship is one worth keeping or whether to scrap it. Here's the thing: you can never really scrap it. You can never really make a clean break from writing or music (or painting, or drawing, or composing, or singing, or dancing).

He will play again. He's in the midst of a lover's quarrel. They will kiss, and make up. He will play again.

And Michelle, even though you haven't written in four years, and you hate what being a journalist did to your feeling about the written word, you can write again too.


*Not that I was a saint at these performances- I once (and I gained notoriety for this) fell asleep in the front rows watching Carmina Burana when I was 7, or 8. I also fell asleep in the front rows watching a huge Motown reunion (and my mom still teases me about it).