If you feel like you belong in this world, that you were born at the right time then you are so lucky. If you don’t feel empty when you see what your generation are into, then you are lucky. If you can relate, then man..how do you do it? Reality shows are fake and pointless. Books are being turned into devices. Record stores are closing. And I don’t understand why people use Instagram. Why do people take photos of their food? If I wanted to know what you ate, I probably would’ve asked if you wanted to go for dinner. I don’t get it. I don’t hate everything around me; far from it. I just don’t really hold much hope, love or like even towards modern life. I hate that I was born when I was, and grew up to see cultures turn cold and reliant on things that can break instantly.
Some bands are hell-bent on recreating a sound that was done in the 70s/80s. Some do it really well without making it obvious. However some just look silly. It’s like that time everyone thought neon paint and “bringing back” the 80s was a good idea. I guess current times are so shit, we must stay in the past. Again, I don’t get it.
I don’t really understand people who claim to only listen to music that isn’t current you know? Do you have ANY idea what you’re missing out on? From 2:54 to Crocodiles to King Dude to Warpaint and all in-between. There’s so much good music that you’re missing out on. I know, I know we will never have an album as powerful as Psychocandy or as creepy as Seventeen Seconds or as wonderful as Viva Hate. It’s okay. Trust me, it’s alright.
But modern life (aside from some music) is a drag. It’s a chore to get up and carry on, I know. I fully understand. If I didn’t force myself to go to the gym every morning I’d probably stay in my room and not go out. Not because modern life is toss, but for many other reasons. You have to force yourself to carry on and do what you can. You just have to. The alternative isn’t exactly something that appeals.
You twist, you turn. You fight with yourself, you fight with anyone who will listen. You declare you’re not good enough. You know why? Because your surroundings make you believe that you’re worth nothing. Thing is, we’re all worth something. Maybe not to ourselves but to one person for sure. I know I should pay attention to what I write; but I just can’t. I don’t think I could ever fully believe in myself and not carry some self-doubt you know. I just think, if I ever thought I was good at something I would never do it again. If I thought I was a decent Music Writer, I’d stop. I’m not looking for a pat on the back or for someone to say I’m any good. Far from it. This is my venting my frustrations at life and how we are becoming more numb to all we see, and all we are. People are caring less and less. My problem is that I probably care too much. I don’t care what people think about me because 1 or 2 people truly know me. As you get older, you realise what matters. You slowly see that people are as cruel as school kids in the playground. They will stab you in the back, and through the heart too. Whilst trying to fuck with your mind. People aren’t as loving as they once were.
Where I live everyone looks the same. I try not to look up when I leave the house. If I look up and around, my self-hate will go through the roof. Eye contact just doesn’t happen. The pavement is my friend. The cracks are the tales of fury. They cracked because they couldn’t take it anymore. I fully understand.
I hate where I am, and the harder I try to get out; the further I am knocked back.
So I play music as loud as I can in my ears. Just to drown out everything, and everyone. It’s working. I’ll get out, even if I have to fucking crawl.
I’m using music to drag me through.