beautiful soul.

This is a man after my own heart, his songs a panacea to my existential pains, his thoughts a comforting companion on this journey.

It's easier for me to believe in God than it is to believe that God loves me... [What makes me insecure is] the same reason why I have doubts that God loves me: I am very aware of my own insignificance, and one of the big human questions is meaning, like, what matters? Does anything I do matter? Does anything I have accomplished mean anything?

guilty pleasures.

I stumbled upon something Jon Foreman wrote back in 2010 which was tongue-in-cheek but hit the nail right on the head on the subject. In his article for Huff Post, Outside the Fences, he started off with:

Guilty Pleasures: the phrase alone implies a form of aesthetic righteousness. Your personal preferences (unique and subjective by definition), are kept in line by a higher standard of objective good (as defined by the community). The experts have agreed upon art that is right and superior. [..] Your joy is shameful; your pleasures are guilty. Scandalous even. [..] You have succumbed to your tasteless tastes: this is contraband art.

I suppose we feel the heat because in the court of "discerning" hoi polloi, we have been found guilty of liking something that's perceived as unsophisticated, uncultured or even crude. In fact, I'm not a defendant here, for I too have a seat on the judicial panel and I have my own standards of what's good and praiseworthy and what's not, and I exert the highest expectations on myself and sometimes others to adhere to and uphold those benchmarks and principles. And that, while being somewhat true (it's an ISFP trait), is also basically a bunch of bollocks. For who among us has not find joy reveling in some sort of lowbrow fun, be it smutty novels or questionable fashion choices or eyebrow-raising music taste? Hello!

Yesterday, J told me she was listening songs from That That, a defunct 90s English pop boy band, and she was "smiling [and] laughing like an idiot, thinking back on my adolescent craze" and having "goosebumps from the CHEESINNESSSSS", but how she "pored over them, every cassette tape, poster, magazine, video tape.. their voices not even good! except for Robbie Williams". Lol, what a load of cheese AND corn we use to consume right?

He looked exactly like this 20 years ago.

So last night I was inspired by that to look up my first celeb crush who inspired me to pick up Mandarin: Jimmy Lin. I tended to avoid talking about him for the longest time because I felt my joy was "shameful" as per Jon's words, but it's been 20 years, we've all moved on. Man, 20 years! And the dude looked like he hasn't aged a day! Haha, the same goes to LH and Em and everyone who hit jackpot with their gene pool. 

Anyway, I searched YouTube for the first song I knew from him: 今年夏天 (lit. This Year's Summer) from his sophomore album which launched his singing career, Summer of '92. I don't remember how I knew of him, but I remember going to the music shop and buying the cassette. It might have been one of the first albums, if not the first, I owned. I'd just became a teenager and he was this super cute 17 years old 陽光男孩 (lit. sunshine boy) and I developed the hugest crush for him lol!

And yes, the songs were cheesy and the lines so corny and the tunes so sappy and the feel so 90s and his voice could use more lessons, but the flood of nostalgia swept me away back to my awkward pimply-faced years like no time machine could. I'm amazed I could still sing along to some of the songs. Being a lyrics person that I was and still am, it bugged me back then that I didn't know what I was singing. So I painstakingly copied every word from the lyrics sleeve and approached my mom many times over for its meaning and how to read it. I didn't dare to show her the source of those words because I knew she wouldn't approve (not because of who it was, but because a cassette would have been deemed a frivolous purchase and my parents frown upon such).

It was tiresome at first because I didn't know most of the words, which meant I would have probably written down most if not all of the lyrics, but copying each character really helped in catching and recognizing it. I suppose by his third or fourth album, I didn't have to go to my mom that frequently, but I think it was around the first or second album when she asked me, "Where are these words from? Did someone send you a love letter??" LOL! I was incredulous at first because it never crossed my mind that it could appear as such, but really, it was word after word from sappy love songs.... can't fault her for her 1+1. She must be relieved to know that I was just learning to read words to sing along. Hehe!

This is an old pic, but cld pass off as current.

I also remember having a lyrics book where I'd translate all his songs into pinyin so that it's easier for me to sing along. That book was my pride. It also helped that he released one to two albums a year to remain relevant so there was always something new to look forward to (many pop artists still do, which erm, kinda say something about the quality of the songs/production *cough*). And then there were the magazines and posters and photos... we had no YouTube, no celeb gossip websites, no instant access to the latest news, and I had no English content to pour over, but these are mere bumps to a determined fan in her track. I also had a ring file of all the articles from magazines and newspapers I could get my hand on (they were all in Chinese) to keep up with everything Jimmy.

So yeah, that was my foray into fangirling, and it was really quite a thrilling ride. After a few years, he went into Taiwan's compulsory military training for its youth and was out of the media spotlight for a couple of years which was long enough for wean me myself off him. I never got back on the ride after he made a comeback, but I don't think anyone took his place in terms of having me pour in the kind of energy and time, until Leehom came along last year when I was reigniting my desire to learn Chinese. Interestingly, Leehom started his entertainment career only about 3-4 years after Jimmy, but I only took notice of him some 17 years later. I guess I'm not an early adopter. Haha!

Mm, Leehomania has died down quite a bit now that Em's in the picture, but I did learn a number of new Chinese characters over the course of 18 months (thereabout) so it was time well-spent. Well, with Leehom's new album underway, I suppose there's still room to absorb more. And if you're wondering if Em's influenced me in any way, he did, for my writing.. you may or may not have noticed that my recent posts are lengthier, where I also try to inject more assonance into my prose.

The answer is yes, as in yes it would kill him to smile. 

Speaking of Leehom, I'm building up really high expectations for his upcoming album and I'm worried I'm setting myself up for disappointment. It's his first album after he went independent of Sony, his previous label for the longest time, which means he has full control of the kinda songs he wants to put out. I could only hope that means fresh and new sounds, and fewer corny ballads (I know he still needs to have those to satiate market demand, but please Leehom, please let them be good). And I don't know if this is asking for too much, I hope the lyrical content of the album are also of a higher standard and covers a broader perspective of life than just the romantic aspect of it. You can see why I could be setting myself up to be let down, but I'll give him the benefit of doubt. And speaking of album, Em's eighth studio effort, The Marshall Mathers LP 2, is set to be in store on Nov 5 (yes, my calendar's marked :) No news on the release date of LH's album yet.

So yeah, guilty pleasures. They add such wonderful swirls of colours into one's life, so how could we not love them? So let's just go ahead and indulge sans guilt. We can save the condemnation for things that are actually hurtful or harmful. Cheers!

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

hanging by a thread.

It's the pre-Monday blues. But it's also the burden of carrying thoughts that is looking for a voice that isn't to be found. I feel like I'm being evasive, feigning ignorance, like I'm running away from something, but I don't know what it is. I'm kinda sure I'm not lost; but if I was on that path, I hope I'd realize it early. There's also a growing sense of detachment; I pray it would lead to stronger sense of objectivity and not apathy.

my mind is dull and faded from these years of buy and sell

my eyes have seen the glory of this hollow, modern shell

sex is a grand production but I'm bored with that as well

Lord save me from myself

the electric sun keeps shining, ripen daughters of the chrome

this world is where I breathe, let it never be called home

well the vultures make the money, it's where my body fell

Lord save me from myself

the vultures make the money but I'm bored with that as well

Lord save me from myself

jon foreman :: Lord, save me from myself

fading west.

From the shore, the ocean is forever; it's a beautiful, dangerous place. The music is tied to the sea, born from the struggle, looking for hope, because hope belongs in the dark places.

...

I want our songs to be the songs that open the doors of the soul, to look at a story bigger than ourselves.

:: Jon Foreman

i wanna be a rock star!

[via]

but nothing like what nickelback sang about!

i do want to own the stage like no one has ever had it. i want to write and belt anthems that would be sung for generations---people would study even the lyrics as one would of great literature. i want go on world tours and play sell-out stadium shows. i'd bring the house down before i break a sweat. i'd top every chart and headline major music festivals. then i'd be appointed as a UN Ambassador and then be the face of a major philanthropic organisation. yeah, sounds like a plan!

oh, and brendan can be my drummer. but only if he promised not to steal my thunder. hello there, drummer boy! :D

[via]

ah, so much possibilities in the realm of my imagination!


...


oh gosh, is this... could it be... OH NO, NOT MIDLIFE CRISIS!!!! O____O NOOOOOOOOOOO...

but really, if I were a rock star (or any star for that matter), I wanna be Jon Foreman. so profound, so humble, so talented.

[via]

ohpleasedo!! :D

I don't write songs when I'm happy. When I'm content, I take my wife out to dinner, I go surfing. I hang out with my friends and play ridiculous cover tunes when I'm happy. But when I'm depressed, I turn to look for something beyond this life. When I'm lonely and nothing makes sense and the world has lost it's flavor I search for notes and words that usher in a transcendence that soars high above the tragedy. I look for to song to understand the present tragedy in the context of a hope for a better world. I look for words that remind me of a bigger story, for songs that acknowledge the tragedy and move beyond it. I look to artists who give me windows, words that provide for a new life to be birthed within me.

Is it escape? Is it a coping mechanism? Maybe a bit, but I feel that it is much more than that. The song becomes a hopeful defiance. A declaration that the injustices and absurdities of our postmodern existence are not the final downbeat. Music becomes a confession of disbelief in the world that surrounds me. A refusal to believe that these tragedies and horrors are the ultimate end. A refusal to accept the oppression of the Dalit's as anything other than tragic. A nonacceptance that the starving six year old is anything other than tragic. The song is written in defense of a world beyond this one, in defense of Truths that seldom make it to the front page of the newspaper. Words create worlds.

jon foreman, via huffington post

thanks, jon.

Your voice has stilled the raging storms
the wind and waves bow down before
Your still small voice brings hope to all
who wait on You, we'll wait for You
to lead us to the place where You'll restore our souls
and all our earthly strivings come to cease

take from our souls the strain and stress
and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of Your peace

bright skies will soon be overhead
we'll enter in to Heaven's rest
there'll be no death, there'll be no pain
the things of old will pass away
You'll lead us to the place where You'll restore our souls
and all our earthly strivings come to cease

tim hughes :: beauty of your peace

breathe, ellis, breathe.