Someone like youFriday, June 03, 2011
I don't know how this has happened. You know I'm hopeless at listening to any new music. We've established I've never even been dumped. Yet somehow I have become utterly obsessed with Adele's current album 21.
I realise I'm late to the party on this one. That's just how I roll. I have to hear a song on the radio twenty times before 'll even consider purchasing it (or asking my husband to illegally download it for me. Ahem). With Adele, the crunch moment came when I caught her performance at this year's Brits. Crammed in amongst all the pyrotechnics and profanities, the obnoxious dance routines and rampant auto-tuning, she took to the stage in a simple black dress, a pianist her only accompaniment, and held that auditorium captive for a full five minutes with nothing but the force of sheer, raw talent. Spellbinding. I wanted to high five my TV.
I generally don't really "do" albums, so when I say I'm obsessed with her album, what I mean is I'm obsessed with two songs on the album, which I play constantly on repeat for weeks until I'm so sick of them I never want to hear them again as long as I live.
The weird thing is, the songs that I become obsessed with are never the fun, perky ones. They're always the morose, melancholy, cant-believe-you-dumped-me-you-bastert ones. What's that all about? Shouldn't I, as a loved-up newlywed, be listening to songs of joy, and wonder, and everlasting love? So how come it's songs of heartache that infiltrate my thoughts so slyly, so deeply, that it's only when I start getting funny looks from my fellow passengers that I realise I'm quietly singing them on the bus? (Yes. I am that weirdo.)
I think it all comes back to my adoration of sad films, sad books, sad TV adverts - let's add sad bastard songs to that list, shall we? There is just something so cleansing, revitalising, in imbibing someone else's pain and heartbreak in neat little 3-minute chunks. Instead of making me weep for my imaginary lost loves, it makes me wistfully content (if such a state exists) and grateful to have found someone like Fin, who would never, ever, knowingly do something that would make me write an album like this.
(He did, however, describe Adele as "mum soul". When I logically pointed out that *I* like her, and I'm not a mum, he respond, "yeah, but you're in the mum genre". I'm sorry, what? First of all, what exactly is this "mum genre"? And secondly, if I take it to mean what I think he thinks it means, SINCE WHEN AM I IN IT? Aren't I in the cool young hipster genre? No? Anyone...?)