Somewhere Around Midnight

So, I was driving around the other day, listening to the radio, and there was one song that came on which I had not heard in quite a while. the first chords started to play, and I knew it was a song that I liked, but still could not place it. Finally, when the lyrics started, I pulled over so that i could more fully enjoy the experience of this song.

It was a song that I was introduced to a few years ago by my then girlfriend, so it has that set of memories associated to it. I grew quite addicted to the song, and listened to it repeatedly in the isolation of my overnight job, enjoying every sweet note and lyric.

Yet, hearing it again like that, and having seen more changed in my life gave the song a new twist, almost like looking at a jewel from a different angle. There was a new quality to it, perhaps new applicability. That makes for a great song, in my book. I think it is a testament to the artist and the creation that it can evoke so many powerful memories in various different circumstances. Usually, the best artists can only do that, right? That is what is so great about music, and art in general, for that matter. They allow us to reach out to others, to connect, to perhaps not feel so all alone. To understand that we are not nearly as isolated in apparent solitude (at least at times) as we perhaps expected. It helps us to understand that others often times have had the same, or at least very similar, experiences. Although we are often told to hide away our emotions, to not wear them on our sleeves, it can be nice to know that others can relate to our pain far more than we feel they can while we are going through it.

When you are going through a painful experience, it often seems like everyone else is living in a world of happiness and lightheartedness that you are apparently not privy to. So, a song like this, for example, can help allow you to achieve a healthier and more balanced perspective.

I have plenty of favorite artists and songs, of course, like anyone. But music perhaps means more to me than most, as do many of the arts. In particular, lyrics are important to me, and these lyrics are beautiful, and really speak to me. They spoke to me back when I was first introduced to the song, and they spoke to me again the other day, when I find myself in completely different circumstances, informed by more recent experiences. Things invariably change in life, yet these songs, once recorded, remain the same. The group may do another version, or some other group might cover it. But the original work is still there, and has not been altered. You get to hear that version the way you originally did, and there is a universal quality to it that is unique. This is not just true of music, of course, but to the arts in general. I write, and I read. Every now and again, I reread a book that I originally read some years ago, and it seems entirely different than I remember it. of course, it is not different. I am. My life's experiences have changed me, and found me more mature, with a different set of experiences, or "baggage", with which to view it from. So when I reread a book, or listen again to a song, or watch a movie, that I was once more familiar with, it becomes a "fresh" and "new" experience in a unique sort of way. That is what makes art unique, and allows it to be so universally applicable. the more we experience, the more we might "get" a piece of work that the artist had out there all along. It is us that has changed, not the piece. It is our interpretation of that same work.

Below, I offer the lyrics to this beautiful song:

The Airborne Toxic Event – Sometime Around Midnight Lyrics
And it starts, sometime around midnight.
Or at least that’s when you lose yourself
for a minute or two.
As you stand, under the bar lights.
And the band plays some song
about forgetting yourself for a while.
And the piano’s this melancholy soundtrack to her smile.
And that white dress she’s wearing
you haven’t seen her for a while.

But you know, that she’s watching.
She’s laughing, she’s turning.
She’s holding her tonic like a cross.
The room’s suddenly spinning.
She walks up and asks how you are.
So you can smell her perfume.
You can see her lying naked in your arms.

And so there’s a change, in your emotions.
And all these memories come rushing
like feral waves to your mind.
Of the curl of your bodies,
like two perfect circles entwined.
And you feel hopeless and homeless
and lost in the haze of the wine.

Then she leaves, with someone you don’t know.
But she makes sure you saw her.
She looks right at you and bolts.
As she walks out the door,
your blood boiling
your stomach in ropes.
Oh and when your friends say,
“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Then you walk, under the streetlights.
And you’re too drunk to notice,
that everyone is staring at you.
You just don’t care what you look like,
the world is falling around you.

You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You just have to see her.
You know that she’ll break you in two.