Fireworks: A Referendum

On Saturday July 4, around the same time my brother, his friend and I were putzing around Pittsburgh trying to decide whether to try and find a spot to watch the fireworks or just retreat and get a head-start on our drinking, New York Giants defensive end Jason Pierre-Paul, like many amateur pyrotechnicians around this time of year, was blowing his hand off.

Alright, maybe he didn’t destroy his hand setting off his literal moving van full of fireworks. Or maybe he did! Or maybe he didn’t. No one in the Giants organization was willing to confirm anything after the news broke aside from their conspicuous revocation of the contact they’d offered Pierre-Paul months ago. Now JPP will likely have to prove his worth this season with an injury ranging anywhere from “it’s just a flesh wound” to “AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

Pierre-Paul’s a dope but he’s far from the only one. Twitter Justice Warrior @FanSince09 spent his(?) Independence Day retweeting folks who’d taken friends, loved ones, or themselves (if they were setting off fireworks alone like some sociopath) to the emergency room that night – including an alarming number of people whose first instinct after taking a firework to the face was SUP TWEEPS.

You probably think I’m about to embark on on a quest to the summit of Mount Pious to pontificate on the hazards that roman candles, aerial repeaters and snizzy snozzer snazzamafrazzles (okay, I made that last one up) present to dopes and those who choose to associate with them on our nation’s observed birthday. This isn’t true. Fireworks simply present a risk that far outweighs their entertainment value. I’m not trying to rid the world of fireworks because they’re dangerous; I’m trying to rid the world of fireworks because they suck.

If you are a child, or if you are legally or morally bound to a child, there may be some value in fireworks. Look at the pretty colors! Listen to the big, loud noises! Let Mommy/Daddy/Big Sibling hear and see something other than your dumb little face wailing because you asked for a chocolate peanut butter crunch ice cream come, took one lick, then decided you wanted cookie dough instead! They're wonderful, aren't they?

But if you’re a Grown-Ass Adult, there is nothing positive about fireworks in and of themselves.

I’m turning 26 later this week. I’ve seen hundreds of the “World’s GREATEST Fireworks Show” in my day in various towns and cities – just the finest parts of Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware, mind you – not to mention Dopey Neighbor Du Jour attempting the same in their backyards (“’Zambelli’s are so good,’ they say! ‘Just leave it to the professionals,’ they say! Well, the ‘professionals’ have never met BOB SMITH. Let ‘em fly, kids!”)

By now, I am fairly certain I’ve seen damn near every type of firework that’s ever been set off. There are the standard bloom-and-bang fireworks, the ones that look like palm trees, the ones that crack and sizzle like bacon (cue the “BACONFIREWORKSBLAMBLAMAMERICA” faction), and the little tiny ones that are somehow also SUPER LOUD OW DAMN IT MY EARS. With some minor variations, these will be launched at different intervals for about 10-15 minutes before Gil the Firework Dude says, “Crap, we’ve got a lot of these left, and I just put that new two-level hot tub in the basement so I can’t take ‘em home with me. Welp, better just launch ‘em all at once!”

Thus, we get the Grand Finale. The thing is, a grand finale is generally defined as “exciting,” “impressive” or “climactic,” and unless you are five years old or have just been told by the town prankster, “Hey, there won’t be a grand finale at this fireworks show” and you believed them, none of these words should be words you use to describe the end of a fireworks show.

This isn’t some constantly-evolving piece of technology. There are no homing missiles or iFireworks or sparklers that can teach you Spanish. Nothing earth-shattering has happened in the firework R&D department in almost two hundred years, at least since when they introduced reds, greens, blues and yellows to the fireworks. That’s right: the last major innovation in fireworks was “colors that aren’t black or white.” Yet, every damn year we trot these things out. Fireworks are to Fourth of July/the summer what "pumpkin spiced everything" is to the autumn; if they're so awesome, why don't we do it any other time of the year?

Even worse are the people who try to videotape or photograph a firework show. Unfortunately, none of those people are reading this post right now, because you need Internet access to reach this blog, and if those folks had paid their Prodigy bill this month and had enough time to clear all the old issues of Readers Digest off their keyboard and log on, they’d surely have poked around the web enough to find innumerable, marvelous photos and video of fireworks online. Sorry Pops, your LG Chocolate circa 2007 is not going to cut it here, and it’s dark out, so we can’t see your kids in the shot anyway - and by the way, neither can you, because they’ve spent the last 10 minutes rolling around on the grass instead of gaping at Round 83 of “Ooooh!" "BOOM. BOOMBOOM. BOOMBOOMBOOM cracklecrackle.”

This isn’t a gripe from someone of the “short attention span” generation. Fireworks aren’t some feat of nature that kids raised on TV and video games are skipping out on because we just don’t appreciate things like this these days. Fireworks are manmade entertainment; chemically fascinating, but still just dopey, manmade entertainment, no better for your brain than playing “Mario Party” all day, and – as mentioned before – FAR more dangerous.

Those who might somehow find all this unpatriotic clearly don’t know me very well (nor the history of fireworks). Please, by all means, celebrate the Fourth of July! It’s a great day! Have some friends over, cook a million hot dogs, drink all the PBR your little liver can handle and watch the probabsell sprotsmatch. Or do what we did, which is head back to our friend's apartment, order a crappy pizza, drink beer and watch old episodes of Police Squad!

Indulge in all that makes this country great. Just not fireworks. Fireworks do not make this country great. Fireworks suck.

Thoughts on Aaron Hernandez

Aaron Hernandez is a bad person. He shouldn't have killed that guy. Killing people is bad.

-Matt

Reflections on Journalism: The Good, the Bad, and the Meta

I recently finished reading a book that was compiled, edited, and introduced by Ira Glass of NPR fame. It's called The New Kings of Nonfiction, and it reminded me what I love most about journalism. There is such a style involved that makes each writer so unique, and I love that.

I recall being in my first journalism class at Duquesne, and this professor I had would share stories early on in the semester about his experiences. He was, in my mind, the quintessential journalist. He just knew, and he allowed us the opportunity to develop our own styles. He said that by the end of the semester, we would be able to turn our articles in and he would know who wrote which piece. He helped me hone my craft and encouraged me to try new things.

Sometimes when I write, I get attached to what writers call "darlings"-- certain lines or turns of phrase that seem to summarize everything we want to say in a poetic, perfect sense-- only to have a draft returned with the best parts cut out. I don't see much editing in a lot of my pieces, which I am thankful for, but there are occasions that certain editors have so much of my piece moved around, rephrased, or cut that I lose my entire style and personality. I had three pieces over a period of time that were adjusted in such similar ways that it failed to be effective. A choppy introduction rife with brief, staccato sentences is effective maybe once, not in every article.

Another edit I have a problem with is removing myself from the story. I have qualms with this, and I'm happy someone recognized it other than myself. Ira Glass wrote, "A lot of daily reporting just reinforces everything we already think about the world. It lacks the sense of discovery." Writers who refuse to share any sense of discovery, any of the details that make a story interesting because they result from the author actually being a part of the story, are doing a disservice to themselves and the craft as a whole. Certainly, I acknowledge that there are journalists who insert themselves so fully into the story that it's difficult to discern where the fact ends and where the opinion begins. Hunter S. Thompson is regaled as a great journalist but he was inebriated and higher than a kite (to use a cliche) most of the time. How reliable was he, anyway?

There's another bit in Ira Glass's introduction that I really dig. He says, " I have this experience when I interview someone, if it's going well and we're really talking in a serious way, and they're telling me these very personal things, I fall in love a little. Man, woman, child, any age, any background, I fall in love a little. They're sharing so much of themselves. IF you have half a heart, how can you not?" Truth. I mean, I tend to adopt a more Joan Didion approach to interviewing: notebook open, pen flying across the page as I sit silent and wide-eyed, allowing the quiet to go on until the interviewee gets so uncomfortable that they talk to fill the void.

I do fall in love a little. I learn so much about people, and we have some wonderful moments. Sometimes, those moments capture them better than any scripted answer they had canned in the back of their minds somewhere. If I can't put myself in the story and acknowledge that I am writing it, how could I share those moments and truly represent them in their most positive, realistic light? How could I be telling a story as if I were the authority on the topic if I refuse to even acknowledge that I was there?

It's Not Always Darkest Before the Dawn. (Scientifically, It Just Doesn't Make Much Sense)

From: Rebecca Ferraro

To: Matt Kasznel

Subject: Whining

I have a topic to broach: the extreme overuse of the completely ridiculous phrase "It's always darkest just before the dawn." I've heard this in at least five songs and, of course, a Batman movie. I'm sure it's floating around out there in other regards as well. 

1) This phrase is incorrect. The night is actually lightest at twilight and prior to dawn. It's darkest in the middle of the night.

2) It's not even a clever phrase and it's irritating that everyone picks up on and utilizes it as if it's some majestic piece of poetry. It isn't.

3) If it's supposed to be a metaphor for difficult times in life, it's lame in that regard too. I rank it among my least favorite cliches, along with the closing doors and lighted tunnels and all the other nonsense.

From: Matt Kasznel

To: Rebecca Ferraro

It's alwayayayas darkest before THE DAAAAAWWWWWN. SHAKE IT OUT SHAKE IT OUT, OH WAY-UH. How could you burn the lyrical choices of dearest Flo Welch?

Anyway, I'm not a huge fan of the phrase, but then again, the grass isn't always literally greener on the other side, and it's impossible to count chickens before they hatch because you don't have chickens for years after the chicks mature - plus, the answer should always be "zero," because fried eggs are soooooooo good.

There has to be a better phrase for "things are always most difficult before becoming wonderful." Which, in and of itself, is kind of a dumb idea. If things are at their worst, then by definition, they can only get better, right?

How about:
1. It's always Good Friday before Easter Sunday
2. There's always paid programming on before the morning news.
3. There are always disgusting, dried-out breakfast sandwiches that have been sitting under a heat lamp too long in the office cafe before they are replaced by marginally better lunch options.

From: Rebecca

To: Matt

Well, not only Florence but also City & Colour, Rise Against, Batman, numerous other movies... like come on people, it's a STUPID phrase. Surely there is no need to keep using it.

Ooo, okay, how about "Not being prepared for your meeting/interview/exam is like not being prepared for rain in Pittsburgh: it's inevitable, so why not avoid the storm?"

This brings me to another. "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain." Swell. I have done this. I enjoy the sentiment. But when I did it at Garden one night, Ronnie and Dylan were worried I was going to get struck by lightning. A valid concern. Should we really be encouraging that?

Also, the phrase "Live, laugh, love" is on a million posters, frames, wine glasses, and what have you. Not particularly inspiring. "Oh, I am brooding and melancholy today but this coffee mug told me to lighten up so I totally should,” said no one ever. 

From: Matt

To: Rebecca

The whole idea of running out in the rain by your own volition is bonkers. Sure, if you're already outside, and it's already raining, and you're already wet, then yeah, get used to it. It's water, after all.

But if I'm waiting for the storm to pass, I'm generally indoors. I'm generally already comfortable. I'm probably enjoying a nice glass of bourbon and listening to a podcast or watching Steven Seagal: Lawman or something. If I wanted to get in touch with my "spontaneous, free-spirited" side, I'd watch Free Willy, mostly because of what "Free Willy" means in England. Point being, I can experience all the "freedom" I want without getting pneumonia.

Can we take a minute to discuss motivational posters in general? I'm struggling to come up with one scenario where a poster, coffee mug, meme, or motivational speaker moved the needle for me. I can think of several occasions where I listened to a motivational speaker and though, "Oh, he/she is really good. I'll bet a lot of people enjoyed him/her." But I never get inspired myself.

Maybe I'm overly cynical, because the moment I hear a phrase or read anything that starts to sound remotely inspirational, I shut it down. It enters "Cliche Zone." Almost as if I don't want to think that I'm "the type of person" that draws motivation from that sort of thing. Which is extremely judgmental, but whatever.

To: Matt

From: Rebecca

If we're being honest, I zone out a lot during motivational anything. I motivate myself. 

The posters are absurd too. It's always like...a scrunchy-faced kitten trying to claw its way up a mountain and some slogan reminding you that if you believe it, you'll land among the stars or some crap. When I have a classroom, my posters are going to say "You should want to do well, so do well" and "I read for fun. Try it and you too will struggle for years to find a job that allows you to keep that hobby and pass it off to others". 

Speaking of books and motivation, the other day I saw this thing in my news feed from Time or Reader's Digest about the top 8 books you need to read right now. I excitedly clicked on the link only to learn it was a list of stupid self-help and motivational books. What a tremendous disappointment for me. Talk about a beautiful letdown. Bribe me with books--the girl who could build a house out of the tomes she has chilling in her room-- and then make it all about how to better myself. Who cares? -_-

Keeping the Christ in Christmas

            “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” the music proclaims (albeit about a month too early for my liking), and I couldn’t agree more. Christmas is, and has always been, my favorite holiday: the season characterized by people bustling to and fro, shopping for the perfect present, the soft illumination of Christmas lights glowing on a tree decorated with ornaments and memories, the scent of pine, cinnamon, and freshly baked cookies mingling together through the house.

From Halloween on, this is all I look forward to, and it fills me with joy to think about the celebration of the birth of God’s only son, the way that a little newborn baby brought so many people together. I love the feeling of people standing together in communion at midnight mass around the glow of candlelight, the organ blaring “O Come All Ye Faithful,” as everybody leaves with smiles for the anticipation of the following morning.

            In this hustle-and-bustle laden season, I find myself disappointed to see the reason for it all getting lost in the shuffle. This has been a long time coming, beginning with the focus being more on presents than Christ. There is literally no comprehensible reason why Santa Claus was set up at the mall on All Saints Day, yet there he was. People rush around purchasing gifts for family members they see once a year, gritting their teeth at strangers in an effort to make it through the line first or grab the last prized ham off of the shelf. In recent years, though, the pretense of Christ has been taken out of “X-mas” altogether, allowing for political correctness to go entirely too far.

In recent Christmas seasons, I’ve walked around noticing that nearly everything I come in contact with is labeled as “holiday” rather than Christmas. Signs depict advertisements for “holiday trees” and other nondenominational things, such as holiday ornaments to decorate them. Sounds fantastic. I’m not out to offend those who celebrate Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or even the non-believers. The greatest part of living in a free country is being allowed to express ourselves freely and without the fear of being inhibited or infringed upon by others.

As it stands, I find myself being infringed upon when Christmas cookies with trees and candy canes and Santa Clauses are holiday cookies, the crackers shaped like trees and bells are holiday treats, and so forth and so on. It’s disappointing to me. These are things that are obviously related only to Christmas.

In grade school, we received ornaments that were emblazoned with golden letters proclaiming “Jesus is the reason for the season!” over a depiction of a manger scene. If that is the reason for the Christians to celebrate Christmas, taking the entire word out altogether is as good as removing a holiday I celebrate from existence. Political correctness is supposed to protect everybody, and yet I’m left feeling sorely discriminated against in its wake. This is one more way of letting it get carried too far.

Don’t give in and wish people happy holidays. Say “Merry Christmas,” not because you’re thrusting your belief on somebody else, but because that’s what you believe in and want to express. I shouldn’t be suppressed because of what’s happening somewhere else. It’s a free country, and freedom of religion is a right I plan on taking part in this Christmas.

The Cloud vs. Mixes, or "Get Off My Lawn: Music Edition"

From: Rebecca Ferraro

To: Matt Kasznel

Subject: The Cloud vs. Mixes

So, I've been meaning to get to you about this article I read in the September 8, 2014 issue of The New Yorker. It's called "The Classical Cloud" by Alex Ross. He/she (I don't freaking know) was talking about rearranging CDs and how sad it is that they are becoming obsolete. 

Some quotes:

"The tide has turned against the collector of recordings, not to mention the collector of books: what was once known as building a library is now considered hoarding. One is expected to banish all clutter and consume culture in a gleaming, empty room."

"If I were a music-obsessed teenager today, I would probably be revelling in this endless feast [of cloud/Spotify/online music], and dismissing the complaints of curmudgeons. No longer would I need to prop a tape recorder next to a transistor radio in order to capture [a song]."

Kids don't know what they're missing. I LOVED doing that. And seriously, if you have ever made or received a mix tape you understand the absurd amount of time that goes into perfectly timing not only the flow of the songs but also the time on each side to provide continuum to the second and not cut a song off. 

Additionally, songs played on Spotify only grant the artist "two hundredths of a cent" for each play of the most popular track. As more people subscribe to Spotify, they have promised the pay will go up, in what Ross calls a chilly "if you give us dominance, we will be more generous" proposition. 

Thoughts on any or all of the above?

From: Matt Kasznel

To: Rebecca Ferraro

Thoughts - Alex Ross is a man, not a woman.

Oh, the rest of it? Okay.

I never really used cassette tapes to make mixes - I wasn't exactly a big music fan until middle school, when CD-writing disc drives starting becoming the norm in desktop computers.

But I loved the challenge of trying to distill a single band, moment in life, or gift into 80 minutes. It's much harder to pick an hour's worth of songs to give someone than it is to dump 10 gigs of MP3's.

Mix tapes have given way to mix CDs, which gave way to iTunes playlists, which have now given way to Spotify and Pandora radio stations. It used to be "I like you, here's this mix of 8-10 songs I made you," or "If you really like Pink Floyd, here's a tape of songs you might like." Now, everyone has an unlimited quantity of tunes at their disposal at all times. There's no longer a need to be selective in acquiring songs. I'm as guilty of this as anyone - hey, Google's got a free Ariana Grande CD? It's mine! I don't even know anything about her, but I have it now.

Theoretically, more options should lead to people finding more good songs and more good bands coming to the forefront, but it never works like that. Bands get drowned out by the options. It's the same reason not everyone is a genius or a walking encyclopedia even though we all have access to literally all human knowledge via the Internet.

From: Rebecca

To: Matt

I get that. I feel that it's a loss though. There's something inherently missing from today's society in that it's depriving people the struggle and pleasure of trying to parse through an entire library of songs to select the ones that flow just right and convey just the right message for one particular person. A mix is a unique thing. One I would make for you is different than one I would make for my sister, Alex, Jenna, or even Ki. There's a message behind each, a way of saying "I get you. I know what you're into. These bands sound like you." 

A playlist is easy. Take every song in your library, add it to a list, and share.  No thought, no struggle. It's my biggest issue with today in general: there are wayyyy too many options for EVERYTHING. Be selective, make a decision, and commit. A slightly tangential point but one I feel is true nonetheless.

Music: Why We Like What We Do

From: Rebecca Ferraro

To: Matt Kasznel

Re: Music

So, I just walked 3.5 miles to Starbucks so I could get an internet connection and write this email to you. I was left with two realizations when I arrived. 

1) It is absurd that my household is still without internet in mid-late 2014. 

2) There are A LOT of hills in Pittsburgh. A fair portion of my journey was uphill, and these hills are steep. Like, it took me between 10 and 12 minutes to crest the top of one. 

Thank goodness for Coheed singing me through my journey. 

Anyway. So we talked about music, and our need to compare everything we hear to other bands. You mentioned the new Gaslight album only being a comparison in your mind to other artists-- I can empathize with this, as every time I hear them I think of Bruce Springsteen. 

Your question to me was then "Is this the fault of the artist for only putting out derivative stuff, or the limitations of people who listen, since we can only compare it to stuff we already know?" 

I have a question to throw back at you: Why do we bother compare music to anything at all? Why can't we just listen to it and appreciate it as is? 

But honestly, when was the last time you heard anything NEW and truly original-sounding? 

We discussed the Madden Brothers tune "We Are Done" being an oldies, "Age of Aquarius"-esque bit of music, you mentioned the potential originality of the latest Arctic Monkeys album, and how Enter Shikari is original to some degree only in that the band combines two distinct genres that have been done but meshes them together. 

The Beatles = revolutionary. 

You said Van Halen's lead guitar was amazing but not groundbreaking. Paul Simon and Nirvana were tossed around-- Nirvana definitely world-shattering for the time (see the book "Love is a Mix Tape") and that Foo Fighters essentially rode the wave of emo-tending modern rock (although good Lord, does anyone do this better than Dave Grohl?). 

In response to my offering of Lana del Rey, you determined that she owes Florence Welsh an apology. I brought up Green Day, who potentially did the punk-pop-rock thing before anyone else, but you determined that it had a lot to do with the Sex Pistols and the Ramones. And even dear Florence isn't alone because she brings in the orchestral sound that bands of the '90s already did ("Bittersweet Symphony", anyone?), although after hearing "Heavy in Your Arms" when it first came out, before Flo was even a big deal, I thought "This chick has one hell of a voice" and I stand by that opinion.

I said I had relevant things to contribute to this discussion. I was sitting at the table reading "The New Yorker" this morning and eating my Raisin Bran (how OLD am I?!?!) and I stumbled across an article called "Cross Country: Nashville expands its range" with a caricature of Luke Bryan and Eric Church. I was JUST in Nashville a week ago and I enjoy the musical talents of both of these artists, so I perused the article.

It at least reassured me that the "our" in "our need to compare music" is a general one and not limited to us and our group. The article was discussing how general and relatable country music is and how it has these overarching themes, such as "finger-picked guitar arpeggios that sound more like Dire Straits'" and that Church's song "Outsiders" off of the album of the same name "feels more like 'We Will Rock You' than like Johnny Cash." There are references to instrumental breaks sounding like Yes, and a crescendo/bridge adhering to a style Metallica would gladly claim (although isn't the idea of Metallica doing anything gladly kind of amusing? I got a chuckle out of this mental image).

The entire album is likened to Pink Floyd. Meanwhile, Luke Bryan is compared to the beachy feel of Kenny Chesney and one of his newer tunes, "Roller Coaster", is apparently diverse enough to be a pop hit for the likes of One Direction, Pink!, or Bruno Mars. 

The moral of the story is that it seems to be the norm for us to compare our musical tastes against one another and try to find the common ground, the reason that we are so drawn to it. The music you listen to is essentially an audible definition of who we are as individuals-- it represents us and what we like to listen to at varying phases of our lives. Finding the thread among them that ties them all together is a way of discovering ourselves.

From: Matt Kasznel

To: Rebecca Ferraro

First off, I think I had to have been drunk if I said Van Halen wasn’t groundbreaking. I mean, Christ.

Second, to answer your question: the comparisons are less for us than for other people.

I know, for example, that the Hold Steady is an awesome band. Musical preferences are generally opinions, but I can say unequivocally, and without fear of contradiction, that they are a fantastic band, and your tastes are clearly warped and unreliable if you disagree. (He says tongue planted firmly in cheek)

It may be a challenge to explain to you exactly why they are awesome, though, without finding, as you said, that common thread. I could say, for example, that they play classic rock, but my God, that opens up a silo full of cans of worms. Blues rock, like Aerosmith or the Stones? Theatrical prog rock like Styx or Zeppelin? Arena rock? Punk rock? And if it’s blues rock, then what kind? Boogie? Garage rock? Southern garage rock with a touch of the psychedelic? THE COLORS DUKE, THE COLORS

So just saying “classic rock” is not a goo representation of the band, nor does it let you know what you’re getting into if you pick up their CD, as your definition of “classic rock” could be miles from mine. Or, I could say, “Oh, they’re a lot heavier on licks than groove, but still reliant on the 12 bar boogie with a hint of…” and watch your eyes roll into the back of your head. Nobody knows what any of that means, nor do they give a shit. It’s nonsense.

But if I tell you, “They’re like George Thorogood and Bruce Springsteen with a super literary singer,” that’s a pretty clear picture right there. “Hey, I like Bruce. I’m okay with George Thorogood. This could be interesting.” Or, “Hey, I hate Bruce and I’m terrified by George Thorogood’s teeth. ABANDON SHIP.” Either way, you know what to expect now.

I think that’s why Pandora Radio is so popular. “Based on your previous selections…” is the music genome version of “Hey, I saw you had the new Big D and the Kids Table CD in your car. You should check out…”

So I guess my answer is, it definitely says more about us than the artists. Sure, every time a band or singer wants to re-brand themselves, they start pumping out names of famous “influences” in press releases and interviews. (Remember when Brandon Flowers suddenly become a HUGE Bruce fan just a year or so after the Killers were still trying to be Duran Duran?) But it’s only because they know we’ll respond to it.

From: Rebecca

To: Matt

I completely agree with everything you said. I mean, maybe except the Van Halen part. I don't think the band is untalented or anything, I just don't like them as much as...lots of other bands. 

Anyway. I feel like this is a good time to bring up the fact that we are talking about actual music versus, say, some of the nonsense that's pumped to the masses these days via Top 40 radio. Could I continue this thread by comparing Ke$ha to slaughtered cats? Justin Beiber? "He sounds like your 8 year old niece... with better jewelry" and you could hear that, right?

One question though: You said they start spewing other names because they know we'll respond to it. HOW do they know? And WHY do we respond to it? What is it that makes us go through these radical changes in what types of music we find preferential to others?

From: Matt

To: Rebecca

Don't be so mean to slaughtered cats...or your eight-year-old niece.

Maybe they describe their own music in terms of other bands because that's what they used to do before they became "serious musicians" and starting defining music by modes and time signatures instead of "yo dude, get a load of that SICK breakdown, bro!" It's a populist view.

I think I've also figured out what causes our changes in music over time. You know, besides maturity and trends and the whole "our generation's music was better than this generation's music" thing (South Park did a whole episode on it). I think it's time.

Yesterday, I was listening to the first two episodes of this new radio show Serial, a This American Life spinoff that's taking a deeper dive into a 15-year-old murder case over the course of 10 episodes (at least this season). The case revolves around two high school students who dated for a few months before splitting up. The girl was found dead a few months after the breakup, and the ex-boyfriend, correctly or not, was found guilty of the killing.

While the show's host and retroactive investigative reporter, Sarah Koenig, put together the story of the two young lovers, she came across diary entries reflecting not only how intensely the two felt for each other, but also the dark, angst-ridden side of adolescence. As the school's English teacher said, it was difficult to determine whether the boy, Anand, had a legitimately concerning "dark side" because "all teenagers had that sort of side to them."

I remember that part of it myself - sure, I liked some poppy, joyful tunes, but it was way more satisfying listening to brooding, morose alternative rock. If I was born in the later 60s or early 70s, I guarantee you I'd have grown up with at least three Robert Smith posters in my room.

Is it because teenagers lack perspective of the physical and emotional changes they're experiencing? Sure. But I think it's also related to how much time you have to stew inside your own head. As I've grown older, I've had far less time to toss and turn over "feelings" with the added responsibilities of college, employment, bills, etc. If I have too much time to myself, though, I'll occasionally gravitate back to the real-life simulators that are my subconscious, endocrine, and exocrine systems.

(I differentiate "feelings" from actual feelings. "Feelings" are what happens when an otherwise ordinary individual starts jumping to conclusions the way Pat Soltano does in Silver Linings Playbook)

I think that's why we start to enjoy more straightforward lyrics and tunes as we grow older. We don't have the time to parse a Nirvana song six ways to Sunday anymore. Just let Bruce or Paul Westerberg tell you what you want to hear.

From: Rebecca

To: Matt

SO TRUE.

I was actually thinking of that the other day, apropos of nothing. I know my musical tastes have changed. Not like I listened to garbage before and now I'm listening to the GOOD stuff, man. But I definitely went from really dark grungy stuff and a lot of whining emo to more upbeat, Belle & Sebastian type stuff or more straight-forward Gaslight stuff. 

I am a busy person, as is almost anyone over the age of 18. I have memories of being an OLSHer, wrapping myself up in a hoodie, and lying outside at night either in the grass, on the porch swing, or on the hood of my mum's '98 Sunfire and listening to a new album in my portable CD player. I would focus on nothing else, letting the music wash over me and dissecting the lyrics while I stared at the stars. "Hamburg Song" by Keane was so lonely and broken it made me cry. Seriously. I listened to angry girl music a la Paramore and applied the lyrics to my current situations.

Now I listen to music while studying for the GRE or while I'm running or driving or drying my hair (the only comfortable time to sing along (at least SOME things don't change)). There's not a lot of time to dissect or even learn lyrics when your mind is mostly somewhere else. Very few songs these days do I know every word to. I feel like I'm missing out on something elemental though. The music was made to be listened to, and I feel like now we're kind of just hearing it.

I sort of wonder if Romeo and Juliet would have been so quick to act if 1) they weren't teenagers and 2) they had some grunge to mellow out to. "Un Giorgno per Noi" isn't exactly emo.