I’m coming up only to hold you under,
I’m coming up only to show you wrong;
and to know you is hard,
and we wonder,
to know you all wrong,
we were.”

Ever have one of those songs that you have heard occasionally, or even often, but only in the background kind of way? What I mean is, you have heard it, you recognize it, you might even be able to name the band, or recall it when someone says “oh this? This is…”, as you nod in recognition. But, you never really heard the song; it never truly made an impact.

And then one day you are riding in a car and the song comes on. Perhaps your senses are more alert, or maybe you are just open enough where everything around you – a story being told, words said (or not said), the shapes of buildings you pass, the shadows cast in the mid-day sun – blends and swirls into the song that is streaming through the speakers. For whatever reason, on this day, you actually hear it.

This exchange, it forges a connection, and the song becomes a part of the moment, and the moment becomes part of the song. Without warning, or provocation, the music is sewn into your memories. It is a little bit like falling in love. Each time I hear it now I feel the way the car moved, the way her hands shook slightly on the steering wheel, and the way her breath felt on my skin as she leaned in close, whispering a confession to me.

This song should be played loudly, while driving aimlessly, in the middle of a hot afternoon – very loudly – at least once.

Funeral :: Band of Horses

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