at what point does a song leave the forefront of your mind as the anthem of your personal late-night drinking, heartbreak and lament? at what point can a song finally be shelved to a reserve spot on the cache of storied and cherished jams? i ask the readers and contributors of "hearsoundswrite" for reasons why certain songs do or do not hold the same feeling and why.
perhaps it's too nebulous or personal. don't make me pull too many teeth, now.
yes, this is akin to capturing lighting in a bottle. or a a bobcat in a cage. or whatever. we're fickle, moody, capricious, sentient souls.
yep. we're post-modern, enlightened grown-ups, free to engage in all the "informed," "casual," and platonic relationships that we can stand, but, with every break-up comes a period of nostalgia. pop music has always provided the soundtrack. that can hardly be countered. a song's shelf life is sometimes only as good as the memories it produces.
modern songwriting has allowed us to project ourselves and our love lives upon the story lines of popular music, be it indie rock, alt-country, "whatev." with the secularization, assimilation and genre-crossing of modern music, does there exist the genre elitism that allows a "pop" music fan to consider the heartbreak sung by hank inferior anymore?
our own attention deficit and provincial allegiances allow us to take aphorisms and slogans from different genres and appropriate to our individual situations. cherry pick and choose. what makes you tick? what made you tick back then?
the song "pretty girl at the airport" by the avett brothers struck me at a very personal time in my life. after listening to the song hundreds of times, it now fails to deliver the potency it once did. is this a result of the song or the circumstance? chicken or the egg?
beyond the obvious time and distance that needs to be allowed for a relationship to run its course, have any of you ever enjoyed a song that suddenly lost its luster?