Remember the first time we met? On that cloudy afternoon in the high school parking lot? You brushed up against me as you unlocked the door of your car, and I noticed your shy smile and your Pedro the Lion t-shirt. I said hi.
And you said, "There's a sharp December hush/ In the clearing where she kneels/ Frost upon the ground/ Shoes worn in the heel/ This could be paradise."
I'll never forget the way our hands touched when you gave me the CD. It had this really pretty leaf drawing on the cover, and it was titled, And Other Smaller, Brighter Worlds, which is so beautiful and internal and intense. Your eyes lit up like soft September musing and you said, "It's your new favorite band."
Later that night, when we met on Instant Messenger. I plied you for more information. You told me that the Atari Star was on a record label called Johann's Face that put out a lot of bands you used to listen to back when you were "sort of a punk rocker." And there's a close label association with the Alkaline Trio, which is one of my favorite bands. And you said Marc Ruvolo, lead singer/guitarist for the Atari Star, is a co-owner of Johann's Face Records.
And I was so excited to hear the CD, because most bands that have "Atari" in the name are good. Except that one that's sort of goth. You told me to listen to track four, "Occasional Genius and Everyday Polite Terror." I did. And I heard these beautiful arpeggios of a keyboard on glockenspiel setting, and these repetitive, but totally sincere guitar lines. And I thought for a minute it sounded like elevator music, but that was cool because it also sounded a little bit like that band, Spandau Ballet. But not quite so good. Then this sweet, sort of off-key voice comes in singing, "I cross my fingers/ Your look of sadness melts away." And I teared a little, Josh. For real. Especially when he sang, "You will become the things you say/ But stay with me tonight."
The whole CD was that good. Even on "Capricorn" when the keyboard in the opening line sounds a lot like "Jaws," but slower. I guess that's unintentional. Because these guys totally know how to rock the keyboard. So much so that I went up to the attic and pulled out my old Casio, and you know what? I could play most of the songs after a couple hours.
Not all the songs were slow and sad, either. Some of them, like "Black Licorice and Gas Fumes," were up-tempo and dancy like my favorite songs on old Promise Ring records. There's this piano part that mom says sounds kind of like Neil Diamond, or maybe Billy Joel. And "[hands]" was just an instrumental with vacant white noise and disconnected voices, which sounds like a sonic interpretation of my totally hardcore ennui.
On our first date, we went to the vegetarian restaurant next door to Barnes and Noble, and after dinner we hooked up in your car to the sound of "Ordinary Clock." You wept when the keyboards crescendoed in those pretty, childlike chords at the line, "She whispered to me un-self-consciously/ She whispered to me with gravity/ That this, too, shall pass." And then you tried to take off my bra.
It was like that for two weeks. Then my sister came home from college. I dragged her up to my room. "This is my favorite band," I said.
I proudly played all our favorite songs, but halfway through the third, she stood abruptly, holding her ears, and said: "Lindsay, this sounds like my ninth grade, over-enunciating, tone deaf actor ex-boyfriend, singing his own poetry, and playing a Casio keyboard at a Karaoke bar on 80s night. The only song that sort of works for me is "Hands Accidentally Touch," which is fairly benign, quiet, and pretty. Even if the lyrics are silly and the keyboards are cheesy. Your boyfriend turned you onto this?"
I was so embarrassed, Josh, because the more I thought about it, she was right. The CD was pretty bad. But not even bad in a funny way. Bad in a depressing, pathetic, spineless sort of way. And that's not sexy. It's not even very appealing if you think about it. Kinda like how you'd get all sensitive and emotional right before you tried to take off my underwear. That wasn't a coincidence, was it?
So, I'm dumping you for a Strokes fan I met on Makeoutclub.com. His name is Jeremy. He smokes, and he doesn't like Atari Star. That's all you really need to know.
And so, what better way to end than with a line from our song, "Hands Accidentally Touch"? The same line you wrote in the fog on my window when we were making out in the car last week: "I fix this image and then file it away/ Hands that touch/ Linger briefly/ Then withdraw/ Landslides of silence touch the ether."
