Neonfarget samtidspoesi

Suffer for Fashion. Denne herlige sangen fra Of Montreal dedikeres til alle smarte luringer der ute som synes mote er teit, tullete og tåpelig. I know we suffer for fashion or whatever! Hva er alt dette styret med å lide - og hvorfor gjør vi det sammen; i kollektiv? Let’s all melt down together - Together! Det er en rar verden. It’s not supposed to happen like that…

Glem ikke å få med deg albumet «Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?» fra mesterlige Of Montreal. Disse folka gir meg en god følelse av at verden ennå bobler av noe rart og smart, noe. I en sterk grad av fascinerende, og på sin særegne måte intelligent, gir Of Montreal en slags alternativ, samtidslitterær opplevelse gjennom sine tekster, farget med sære lyder og neonfarger. Undersøk dem nærmere - særlig også sangen «Gronlandic Edit», og du vil få deg en lyrisk overraskelse. Jeg tuller ikke. Det er helt sant - alt sammen! Altfor sant. Skummelt treffende og illustrerende for vår postmoderne tilværelse. Kanskje inspirasjon til en novelle?

Cato as a Pun

Cato, play with my head
I won’t know the difference
If we’re living in the novelist
Or statistician

Cato, mess with my concepts
My inner vision
Like a strobing light
Please confuse my every decision

I can’t even pretend that you are my friend
What has happened to you and I?
And don’t say that I have changed
Because, man, of course I have

Are you far too depressed now even to answer the phone?
I guess you just want to
Shave your head, have a drink, and be left alone
Is that too much to ask?

Gronlandic Edit

(The surrealists were just)
Nihilists with good imaginations

I am satisfied
Hiding in our friend’s apartment
Only leaving once a day
To buy some groceries
Daylight, I’m so absent minded
Nighttime meeting new anxieties
So am I erasing myself?
Hope I’m not erasing myself

I guess it would be nice to give my heart to a god
But which one, which one do I choose?
All the churches fill with losers, psycho or confused
I just want to hold the divine in mind
And forget all of the beauty’s wasted

Let’s fall back to earth and do something pleasant
We fell back to earth like gravity’s bitches
(Physics makes us all its bitches)

I guess it would be nice to help in your escape
From patterns your parents designed
All the party people dancing for the indie star
But he’s the worst faker by far
But in the set, I forget all of the beauty’s wasted

I guess it would be nice
Show me that things can be nice
I guess it would be nice
Show me that things can be nice

You’ve got my back in the city
You’ve got my back, because I don’t want to panic
You’ve got my back in the city
You’ve got my back, because I don’t want to panic

A sentence of sorts in Kongsvinger

I spent the winter on the verge of a total breakdown
While living in Norway
I felt the darkness of the black metal bands
But being such fawn of a man
I didn’t burn down any old churches
Just slept way too much, just slept

SongMeanings.com: / Of Montreal