Some people's lives seem easy. And perfect. You know realistically that they're not. But you can't escape the feeling that everything has just sort of worked out easy for them.

My little sister brought me coffee this morning.

I've loved Modest Mouse's music for many reasons, not least of which is that frontman Isaac Brock often writes songs that feel like an old automobile lumbering down the road; last legs, staggering along and leaking oil and just trying to keep going, and the horn is stuck and there's people yelling, but then it turns out it's just Isaac, because he gets irritated easily.

I was chatting recently with this guy who speaks four languages, grew up in Berlin, and is moving to Dubai to work in international business. He told me a really great place close to Troy to check out when I visit Turkey, someday. He drew me a map.

"Other People's Lives" is about a protagonist trying to get away from his seemingly-humdrum life, and the ensuing conversation he has with a 25-year old.
"Other people's lives seem more interesting /
Because they ain't mine"
It's a very narrative song and has lots to think about, but what's actually my favourite portion is where his voice devolves into mumbling, and a variety of atonal-ish guitars and screeching farm equipment start chugging into each other and it's one big pretty mess of grating sound that would make Stravinsky gleeful and it is the perfect emotive accompaniment to the story, which is by now wordless.

SPOILER: he heads home.

I ate a doughnut this morning, and haven't confessed to my wide yet.

I'm going home, and I think we'll check out that Turkey map. And listen to some Modest Mouse, in all their cantankerous clunking open road glory.

I love that my wife loves music too. She has been to London.

Happy Thorsday, all.

Modest Mouse
Other People's Lives
Building Something Out of Nothing


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