Last spring, I was introduced to the sweet, lovely dream pop sounds of Beach House at the cool, hip coffee shop called Fuckoffee at Shoreditch, East London. The sweet, emotional songs ‘Lazuli’ and ‘Other People’… the beginning of a happy love affair, of hope. Lovely emotions for a rainy day. Lovely music for the ‘in love’ feeling. In fact the whole album ‘Bloom’ was like a new fresh love affair to me, all the way through.
When you meet a guy and this feeling of euphoria arises, and you meet up and you do things, and you laugh, happily, because he takes away your pain, just for a while… because in the end you know, it’s just an illusion.
One day your pink balloon bursts, and then you listen to Daughter’s oh so sad song ‘Love’, lamenting what you had. Missing him dearly.
Yes, the guy who introduced me to the dreamy, lovely Beach House songs, he made me feel so great. Charming, cheeky and funny… sexy… just my kind of thing. I’m so seduced by cheeky charm, social intelligence, and he had it big time. Made me smile, made me laugh…. I’m alive, I’m myself when I can tease, playing with that sexy chemistry. Turning me on like nothing else… and then one day, poof… he was gone.
Broke my heart big time. He made me feel, he gave me something that I needed. I was happy, but sad all along because I knew… happy illusions don’t last. And all I did afterwards was listening to Beachhouse all summer. ‘Lover of Mine’, ‘Silver Soul’, ‘Rough Song’… ‘Love’ by Daughter… oh god, it rips your heart out… like coming off a strong addiction.
But, oh no, I don’t hold a grudge against him… I do it as well. In fact, I am the biggest ghost of all. I wake up one day, decide to move on. Or spontanious affairs… Early in the morning I’m gone like I was never there, just a dream. And they keep asking me why for a very long time. But it’s nothing really one can explain. Or should.
We always rely on the ‘perfect guy/girl’ to come and ‘save’ us, to make us feel whole… But in the end, it’s not their job, it’s yours alone.
Often they simply leave for new countries, new goals that are calling them, because, they are nomads like me.
I just love the ‘in love’ feeling, the new addiction… High on love, high on hope, high on sexual energy. I leave, I loose, I miss, I mourn the ones that are no longer… Loosing is pain. But better to have loved and lost, then to not love at all.
The melancholy! :-[