Saturday, September 14, 2013

weave for me.

I am taking a quick breather from the intense week-long musical journey into hip hop that had me reading like tomes of lines and lyrics and wiki entries and feature articles and interviews... sampai mata dan telingaku berbunga dan berdarah (nonsensical Malay words). I've got so much new info gleaned and compressed and crammed into my brain that I'm sure I'm going to implode soon if I don't find a cathartic outlet. For real. Anyone got an ear to lend?

And oh oh OH, in the moments just before I fell asleep last night, I suddenly remembered what the what was i.e. the trigger to this googling compulsion: it was this video. The narrator was showing how formidable Eminem's rhyming skill is based on the Oscar-winning song Lose Yourself (from his 8 Mile movie), and what I saw just blew me away. Because you know how much I love wordplay and Em is certainly in a class of his own. He's hailed a genius lyricist by his peers and critics alike (mighty impressive for a 9th grade dropout). How could I not be intrigued? Yes, I have a soft spot for wordsmiths.. *sighs*

But, enough of Em for now, give me a moment to compose myself for the sake of my sanity. In the meantime, I'll just bring Jon Foreman into the picture, since we are on the topic of amazing lyricists. Jon weaves some of the most beautiful tapestries of words, and you just want to lose yourself in them for hours on end.

Ah, to enjoy and be moved by well selected words set to melody, I'm so grateful I'm alive!

Life is a gift like fresh cut roses
Cut from the branch and brought inside
It’s a slow contradiction that’s beauty in a vase
When the cords are cut that’s when we start to die

Lately death and life get so confusing
I can’t tell the difference here tonight
Lately every breath feels like I’m kissing death
And when time is dead I cease to be alive

If you hide yourself deep inside, deep inside
In time you’ve got nothing left to hide
There’s nothing left inside
Tonight, honey I am gonna break your heart
Mine was broken from the start, broken from the start

Choice is the only thing we’re given
For one will live, another dies
One road says hello the other says goodbye
And the roads that you don’t choose begin to die

They won’t pay a cent to hear you laughing
They might pay a little to hear you cry
If you do it long enough they might even pay attention
But they still won’t pay respect until you die

Jon Foreman - Broken From The Start

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