Fuck it, I'm done. Truth be told, I've been done for a little while. Narrowing my tastes, listening to those same few records. Celebration Rock. Almost Killed Me. Meadowlands. Midnight Organ Fight. Crutches of comfort. Becoming anxious when I've formatted my audio device and somehow deleted the specific one I require at that exact moment.
In the same manner, values have been refined. Friendships discarded, relationships left to naturally dissipate. Time is a premium asset now, it seems. No minutes wasted waiting for something to connect. Patience is no longer a luxury we can afford. No time for fucking around. No time for cunts. Legacy and history doesn't count for much. So let's stick with those that get us. The ones that shoot straight, aim high, miss, pick up the pieces and talk about it. Celebrate it, even.
"Where nobody knows your name, Where nobody's heard of your town"
And nobody cares about your successes. All those achievements you list are just regular life moments. Type into that Facebook Status dialogue box until your fingers fall off. Your subtle back-patting isn't so subtle, your clever back-handed bragging isn't that clever. You're doing what we're all doing. We're all just living mate.
"I have no interest in that kind of competition"
LP2 is a servant of simplicity. It's right there in the record's title. Lyrics are blunt, rarely muddled in metaphors or mumbles. Everything is impatient and direct. Primary vocalist, Jon Loudon, is seemingly paranoid about messages being lost or diluted. Clear words, open hearts and a forthrightness than demands attention. Loudon doesn't beat around bushes, he burns bushes down, then pens a line connecting that shrubbery inferno to a current life event.
Like all good music, there's an element of despair here. Pure undiluted hopelessness. The reaction to which operates as the solitary point-of-difference between this and other life-affirming albums built from similar foundations (see complete, indisputable list above). For Restorations, this is formed as a conceding acceptance, yet the tone often slides more towards a sense of spirited determination and triumphant defiance. On New Old, the sentence "nothing much left to do, except wait for some good news" jumps out from the composition. But the line, obviously associated with a certain level of importance, is clearly spoken, with very little emotive attachment, delivered more as an undisputed fact than an opinion.
That same tactic is employed throughout LP2. Statements are outlined but rarely associated with specifics. Life quotes and compact mantras, embroidered onto torn clothing, neatly framed and strategically placed around your home. Just perfectly vague and adaptable. For the most part, I have no idea who is being squared up, the people/person/group that's causing frustration or the main source of the angst displayed. And it doesn't matter. I'll fill in the gaps, I'll massage all these phrases until they fit around my current predicament.
"I am no longer scared, terrified all the time"
It's becoming evident that the role of music in my life is adapting, increasingly becoming more of a therapeutic companion than a simple source of entertainment. Utilised primarily as evidence that this whole thing isn't a solitary voyage. Which is an infinite journey in itself, with no affirmed destination. No solution. And, truth be told, we're not seeking one out. Just some temporary comfort, some quotable lines and less cunts in our life.