Music was my boyfriend.

I’ve said this before but this week I’m becoming more consumed by the thought… Am I in a music rut because music has changed or have I? Lately I’ve been so thirsty for some mind blowing tunes that I’ve begun rummaging through my favorite albums from the aughts, mostly early to middle. This is certainly my favorite time for music, I haven’t been in love with anything as much since. I thought maybe as I got older I became more detached from the music scene, I go to less concerts, I spend less time listening. I still acquire copious amounts of music but rarely have the time to listen to any.

Today I had another thought about how growing up may have estranged me from music. When I was a younger all I did was sit in my room and listen to music, all day and night. I’d lay in my bed and listen. When I played video games music was on. Music was on when I surfed the interwebs. Music was on while my friends were over. I had a television set that was usually set to old cartoons on mute, my makeshift music videos. When I left the house I walked far distances or took long bus and train rides, always with my diskman handy and a case of cds in my back pack.

I’m not all that old, I’ll be turning twenty-eight in two months, so why isn’t music consuming me anymore? I think the problem is a lack of time alone with music. My bedroom only has a television now, it’s never on mute, I’m usually watching way too much Netflix. I don’t play video games anymore, or surf the web for hours. I don’t lay down with music playing, ever. I drive everywhere, usually with NPR on. This relationship may be lacking because of me. I somehow disconnected from music and I didn’t even notice that all of our quality time was gone.

Right now I’m wearing my headphones and trying to pay attention to the new music I’ve acquired, rather than just having it and never playing it. I’m listening to the much anticipated (I was looking forward to it) Lana Del Rey album… it kind of sucks. So maybe its both of our faults. Musicians and I are lacking, we really need to work on this for the sake of our children. I promise to make more time for you if you promise to be more awesome.

P.S. But seriously, this album is really bad. I still love the three songs on it that I previously gushed over, but that is all. Sad.

“For all of its coos about love and devotion, it’s the album equivalent of a faked orgasm– a collection of torch songs with no fire.” – Lindsay Zoladz (Pitchfork)

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