In Daniel Clowes' Ice Heaven there is a scene of a detective talking to a comic book critic. The detective is sceptical of criticism in general, his line of logic going like this: If comic books are indeed an art form then they are trying to express an emotion that cannot be expressed better otherwise, i.e. something that needs the pictures and words to get across and defys words by themselves. How then can you think to explain those using only words? I think its the same with music, if I could explain to you how this music makes me feel then I wouldn't need the music. If I could express it in words then the musical part of it would be unimportant.
I've been thinking about the angst that most people (or most that I know and talk to) experienced in middle school. Almost as soon as its over its viewed in retrospect as imature, self indulgent, ignorant, whiny, ect.. While its going on you look at the older people and think that they don't understand. And now I'm thinking, I don't understand them. They're right about that. And it streches deeper then that. My whole fucking life being a kid I thought adults don't understand our fundemental experience, how we move and view the world, how we think, how we live And I thought, fuck, I am going to hang on to this. I'm not going to forget what it is to be six or eight or ten or thirteen but I have. And I don't understand. And I'm never gonna unerstand. And in four years I'm not going to know what it is to be eighteen and everything now will be immature and self indulgent and I'm never going to understand. Theres a lyric by The Strokes, who have almost embarisingly been one of my most enduring musical obsessions over the last year, that goes See, people they don't understand/No, girlfriends they can't understand/Your grandsons, they won't understand/On top of this I ain't ever gonna understand.
we used to dream, now we worry about dieing