But, psyche, NOT the “Changes” you’re thinking of, unless you tend to think of “Changes” in Portuguese. Yep, it’s Seu Jorge time, which means it’s time to talk about Brazilian music.Quick explanation: I was once again driving around in my car thinking all was lost and, you guessed, a song I like came on the radio. I am beginning to wonder if some sort of medication is in order, but will put that decision on hold as long as the muse still resides in the music. Serious writing problems have become chronic, plus I was actually bedridden this weekend with a completely fucked up back. So, Monday comes along and I have neither the comic theological jones or the art jones or even the complaining about being a mother jones. I’ve got nothing to write about. Maybe American history and what kind of politician Andrew Jackson would be today becuase while lying in bed I read over 100 pages in The Rise of American Democracy (which may account for much of the joneslessness).
Then, KUT, 2:15, a guy sitting in for Jay Trachtenberg (whom I need to call) plays Seu Jorge’s version of “Changes” from the studio sessions Life Aquatic album that Chris is crazy for. Straight to the heart of the matter. I pretty much hated Bowie’s version by the time I was 16 because it was a song that people in my tiny little class sang in the classroom at the top of their lungs and I was ready to jump out the window onto the FDR every time they did it becauses I hated them. I hated them for lots of songs, apparently.
But when I’m feeling low, nothing hits me like music from high school. And when it comes in Portuguese via my favorite movie of the past couple of years, I can forgive its past association with stressed out teenage girls.
What was kind of funny and kind of great is that the substitute followed it up with the original version of “Suffragette City.” Another all-time favorite of the Bowie chanting crowd. The release of screaming “Wham bam thank you ma’m” in the middle of the most exclusive girls school in New York, the one that kind of acted like it truly was the best one because it really was (sorry Gwyneth), was pretty great. I can’t blame the chanters for choosing that one.
I was more of a B-52s girl at school. The three people I still have regular contact with from that Lost-like group of 45 were with me on this one. The four of us would find each other in our junior year homeroom and play “Planet Claire” and “Rock Lobster.” Somehow, I seem to remember that we were alone. I have no idea how that would have been possible, but that’s how I remember it.
Covers, Seu Jorge again, substitute DJs (always a problem), songs I thought I hated, they’re all mixed up in the drive from HEB home. My back still hurts and I can’t help but think that I should be writing about something more important than why I hated David Bowie. I’m still feeling uprooted and overwhelmed. I want to quit before I start and pretend that I never had all the ideas and inspiration and hope that I did. I was ready to quit and then this song came on and I felt that feeling, the one I write about over and over.
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