Pulp Feeling called Love & Dishes Pt 2

Now Dishes is the complete opposite. It’s a slow melodic song his voice is low and the singing is in a cadence as if he is talking. If someone ever said how would you describe marriage I would tell them to listen to this song. There are no elaborate metaphors made or unrealistic declarations of forever lasting love. ‘I’ll read a story if it helps you sleep at night. I’ve got some matches if you ever need a light. Oh, I am just a man but I’m doing what I can to help you.’ It’s him trying to do simple things ease even the little burdens the woman he loves encounters. The line in the song that really gets me and makes me smile from ear to ear is ‘you’ve got no cross to bear tonight.’ I think knowing that someone is willing to step up and reassure that you’ll have nothing to worry about is far more romantic than promising the moon and stars even more meaningful than I love you. This song resuscitates my belief that in the chaotic ness and yet mundane sequence of events that life puts us through that there is a thing as true love.

Pulp Feeling called Love & Dishes Pt 1

If romantic love could be summed up in two songs than Jarvis Cocker has already done it. In college, I thought the lead singer of this band was my ideal man: tall, lanky, glasses, British accent, a great talent for storytelling, and exemplary at splitting smart and witty sarcastic one-liners. Most importantly, without even trying just with his mere presence is the epitome of cool my best friend and fellow Britophile Sarah introduced me to this band. In expressing our love for Brit pop, Joy Division, The Smiths/Morrissey she suggested I check out this band. For about two years, the Pulp album Different Class rarely left my disc man. Jarvis Cocker was rare. He just doesn’t write lyrics he told stories. F.E.E.L.I.N.G. C.A.L.L.E.D. L.O.V.E. was a song that perfectly captured the confusion, lust, and utter reluctance of falling in love. There are so many songs written about love and all of its stages but none that realistically captured the dirtiness and messiness of love. I’ve told all of my friends that I will play this song at my wedding. One of my favorite lines in the song is ‘this isn’t chocolate boxes and roses. It’s dirtier than that like a small animal that only comes out at night.’ Jarvis has such a deep and almost sinister tone. The melody isn’t slow or upbeat. The bass one throughout the songs thumps the way your head would when you are nervous. The song slowly builds and at its crescendo with Jarvis just letting out this gut-wrenching primal scream. Not just a flat out scream but a loud release of letting all the emotion you can’t put into words out.

Guns N' Roses - Sweet Child O' Mine

I am writing this at the 1369 Coffeehouse in Central Square, Cambridge and they are playing this song. I realize that this song is to the young baristas behind the counter is what Led Zeppelin were to my generation. Although I cringe when I hear the words, classic rock, and Guns n Roses in the same sentence. I know that GNR deserve to be acknowledged among the greats.

GNR will always remind me of seventh grade at Woonsocket Junior High School in Woonsocket, RI. I was the only girl in the percussion section of the Jr. high school band, the only black girl on the field hockey team, and the only black girl who hung out with ‘The Metalheads.’ The Metalheads were the guys and girls who had long hair (for the girls amazingly teased up Aqua net –induced hair) wore tight jeans and rock t-shirts. Most of the ‘metalheads’ came from single parent or lower middle class incomes and in the mix were at least one or two ‘former’ preppy girls rebelling against their parents. For me the metalheads were my saving grace since most of the seventh grade metalheads were in my classes. I was the only black person in the college prep program. My classes were full of Guess jeans wearing, Espirit bag carrying, we only wear name brand clothing girls. And although some of them are really nice they didn’t really talk about things I was interested in. The metalheads I surrounded myself with were interested in art, music, and books. G introduced me to the Beat poets and wrote amazing poetry (and now songs). P I’d known since the fourth grade and I wrote my first poem about our friendship. I secretly admired her because she got to see Bon Jovi, Poison, and Motley Crue all before we got to junior high school. N introduced me to Ozzy Osbourne made me feel proud to be a smart chick, and ended up being the salutatorian of my graduating high school class. She even slipped an Ozzy quote into her graduation speech. I guess what also appealed to me was their attitude they didn’t care (or at least it seemed they didn’t care) about what others thought of them. They took pride in which they were even to the point of getting detention or suspended for refusing to take their ‘offensive’ rock t-shirt off. One of those offensive t-shirts was the inside cover of Appetite for Destruction that featured a robot rapist and a woman slumped to the ground with her panties around her ankles. I forget the kids name but he had been wearing the limited edition shirt and during fifth period band our teacher Mr. Kane walked over to the percussion section to go over a part of a song we were having difficulty with and he saw the shirt. He told the kid to stand up and turn the shirt inside out but the kid stood and said no and pointed out that none of the other instructors had a problem with it. Mr. Kane told him he didn’t care and to wear the shirt inside out or he’ll get attention. And in total badass metal fashion stood up gave Mr. Karen the finger and walked out.

“No ones gonna care about that band in few years anyway,” Mr. Kane said and returned to teaching the percussion section.

Well, of course, Mr. Kane was wrong. In the Art to Choke Hearts by Henry Rollins he describes how much he hates going to see a rock show at a university and he describes the opening band “The opening band called Guns ‘n Roses, and they blew the headliners off so hard it was pathetic.” Even as an opening band under the critical eyes and ears of Henry Rollins they were destined for greatness. So, sorry Mr. Kane you were wrong, GNR fucking rules.