Masonic Boom

"Crazy" "Oversensitive" "Feminazi" "Bitch" bloggin' bout pop music, linguistics and mental health issues

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

That Boy's Got My Heart In A Silver Cage

I've fallen in love with this song. I kept hearing it in Aeroplane mixes (sometimes mixed in with their swooshed out, dreamy remix of Friendly Fire's Paris) - the plaintive tones of Giselle Rosselli burning a hole straight through my ears down to my heart.

It's an odd one. The song's production isn't that special (update: the "Version 2" on iTunes is actually a lot better, a more bouncy house-piano-driven disco a la Spiller's Groovejet) the tune isn't an obvious earworm - but my god, that *voice*. The heart-wrenching longing encapsulated in a certain purity of tone broken by the barely contained emotion, the little swoops on the end of each phrase, as if barely surpressing her sadness.

The lyrics... well, they tread the hinterland between utter banality and sublime wisdom that Bernard Sumner mined so exquisitely. On the face of it, a simple "I want the one I can't have..." lament, but combined with the utterly forlorn delivery, it's just deadly and brings me close to tears every time.

And, of course, it just resonates with the mood I've been in, moping about, that stage where Shroedinger's Crush has opened the box and the cat is dead, you know it's unrequited and never will be and there's nothing to do besides Get The Fuck Over It - except I don't really want to. There's a part of me that somehow really enjoys this feeling, enjoys the sense of pining, the sense of melancholy and unworthiness. This sensation that I have come to equate with love itself. I've never really known it any other way.

I'm avoiding him. It hurts too much to do anything else. I blame myself, call myself for stupid for even thinking that I had half a chance (even though rationally I knew I never did) then blame myself for the fact that he doesn't even notice I'm avoiding him - then blame myself YET AGAIN for being so childish as to actually CARE about all this. The pity party has reached the stage where all my worst insecurities are dancing on the tables, blowing whistles and forming a conga line down the hall.

Today I'm having massive blasts of self doubt. Reading my twitterfeed, I had the sudden (completely out of character) wish... "Why can't I just be one of those girls who cares about clothes and makeup and toenail varnish and boyfriends and just be, you know, all feminine and girly and... normal?!?!?" And then hated myself a moment later for falling prey to that awful trap that reckons that that kind of hyperfeminine gender restrictiveness *is* normality. If I tried to live like that permanently, I'd be even more miserable than I am now. I am who I am, how on earth could I be anyone else? (And even if such behaviour did win me friendship and love, would I really want to be loved for something so false? I don't think so.)

It will pass. It always does, but for now, this song and my mood flutter together, perfectly catching the moment.


Anonymous Jojo said...

hmm girly things, my friend Robesy can go total girly mode, yet she is a very creative multitalented person... not sure how she manages it.
Maybe cause she's just playing with the girly stuff

3:38 pm  

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