Suddenly Everything Has Changed

I’m sure everyone has them: those sudden moments in life when something just hits you. It could be something unrelated to what you’re doing, something mundane, and this thought comes slamming into your head, totally unbidden.

I had one of those moments yesterday.

I was sitting in my kitchen, looking at this bottle of thyroid medication, and the sudden thought slams into my head: you’re going to be taking this for the rest of your life.

For those of you who don’t know, the few people I don’t talk to regularly enough to know this, this last week I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism, a condition which is a precursor to diabetes and fibromyalgia. I’ve had it for at least five years, and probably closer to 10, but it stayed unnoticed until my last physical, in which I had some blood work done.

It’s kind of weird to think that I have this condition, and have had it for some time, simply because it hasn’t slowed down or even affected my life thus far. When I was told that I would have to take medication to make me “feel better” (a catch-all phrase), I kind of had to laugh, because I hadn’t felt bad in the first place.

Lately I’ve been listening to two songs over and over, The Postal Service’s cover of “Suddenly Everything Has Changed” (by The Flaming Lips, off their wonderful The Soft Bulletin ) and track 2 of the first single ("Untitled 1," or "Vaka") from Sigur Ros’ recently released album, () .

The Postal Service cover is fantastic, Ben Gibbard’s frail voice perfectly matching the melancholy lyrics, while Jimmy Tamborello’s spacious arrangement gives the song a much-needed depth and a sense of mystery. While the original song was upbeat, The Postal Service turns it into a beautifully spooky meditation on the strangeness of life in general and pinpointing several of those moments when we realize that “suddenly everything has changed.”

The Sigur Ros piece is a bit different. It’s an ambient, barely-there, wisp of a song that has little to no structure or form, save for a series of chords that repeat seemingly at random. Bits of vocal loops and ambience flutter through the track like the whispers of angels before muted brass slips in and Jonsi begins to sing, his voice soaring like motes of dust caught in a sunbeam. The effect is stunning, evoking a hushed reverence that is breathtaking.

I’ve heard it said that writing about music is like dancing about architecture. I never really understood what this meant until I began writing reviews. When you come upon a song or piece that you love so much that it actually hurts, you truly begin to understand. That’s what great art is all about: it strips you of everything, leaving you naked, defenseless, vulnerable. If it doesn’t do that, it’s not good art. You wouldn’t believe how much time I spent writing that last paragraph. What I wrote was a fairly dry description, one man’s attempt to put into words a myriad of feelings and emotions. I will say this: the song tore me to pieces, plain and simple.

Not much else to say. I usually say "more to come later," or something like that, and then don't end up writing for a week or two. I'm not going to do that this time (or my regular playlist), instead opting for something a little different. I want those of you that read this to email me with some songs that tear you to pieces, and why. My email address is rarnow@aol.com. I look forward to hearing from you.