A new habit has begun. I’d call it a ritual, but there’s something repressed and required about the word, so I’ll call it a habit. Or perhaps a tradition. You could even call it a newly acquired addiction, but maybe not. There’s magic in music, enlightenment, connection. It cuts through darkness, “should be asleep’s”, unnecessary fears, and the burden of routine. Beyond that, music connects, like an invisible cord pulling us closer with each album, each song, each night together.
“Beginning to See the Light” poured out into the room, lighting up the past midnight warm air. We were entwined, part of the “tradition” (yeah, I like tradition best), breath on skin, silence and conversation volleying one-to-the-other, that undefinable something pulling us closer. We take turns picking albums, full albums, not playlists or single songs. The Velvet’s self-titled was his pick. A good one. Lou’s voice accentuating our shared resistance to give into sleep. Neither of us wanting to lose a second of together.
Somewhere in the middle of the song, Andy Warhol was brought up. A complicated figure, hard to nail down, hard to admire, hard to think past the pop culture significance. We talked about what we thought about him, starting with a softer statement of not knowing if we liked him. It went on from there. We peeled back surfaces, examined perceptions, went almost scientific on him. It wasn’t a glowing review, despite the thoughtful assessing. It was then the man I love, my partner in this nightly tradition, cuts through the philosophical late night meanderings and says “so we don’t like Andy Warhol.” Maybe it doesn’t translate here exactly, but it was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard. We laughed loudly, genuinely, collapsing into each other with that rattle of joy and delight, sounding like children.
It was fucking incredible.
So, sorry Andy. We gave you our own fifteen minutes, and no, we don’t like you much. But then again, I think I’ll always think a little bit kindly when I see your picture, or hear your name, thinking about lying naked in bed together, music playing, philosophizing between kisses, and that laughter that lit up the room and surrounded us.
There’s nothing quite like us.
“Beginning to See the Light” by The Velvet Underground
from the Album, The Velvet Underground (1969)
Song of the Day
“I’m beginning to see the light.
It’s kinda softer now,
I wore my teeth in my hands,
so I could mess the hair of the night.
I’m beginning to see the light.”