As seen in Savannah, Georgia.
Magnolia Plantation – Charleston, SC
Berries spotted at Longwood Gardens several years ago.
I generally listen to any kind of music that gives me a good vibe, but the list of bands that I hold near and dear to my heart is most certainly a short one. Pearl Jam, The Killers, Bruce Springsteen, The Gaslight Anthem, Widespread Panic, Taking Back Sunday – the end. That list is only comprised of folks that have the uncanny ability to seamlessly transfer the raw emotional intent of any given ballad to my own presence. Put me in a room alone with Pearl Jam’s “Come Back”, and you’ll find something pretty wild.
Taking Back Sunday (who I’ll be seeing live in just a few short weeks) has been on my list since high school, when they were deemed a leader of the “Screamo” musical movement. The often-excessive use of lead singer Adam Lazzara’s pipes was never the primary appeal for me, and I never had a really terrible girlfriend experience that destroyed my life (as per their standard plot line). Still, I can relate to their entire catalog, because that aforementioned emotional transfer ability is perfected, in every single lyric. Though generally unexplainable, it’s easy to cite a mixture of Adam’s assertive and impassioned disposition and beautifully jarring lyricism.
Take the band’s de facto anthem, Cute Without the ‘E’ (Cut from the Team). If you don’t hit the floor screaming, “…this all was only wishful thinking…”, I’m forced to question the presence of your soul, of your ability to feel. I listened to and passionately followed this song so often in college, that my girlfriend (now wife) thought I was always mad at her. Whenever I want to feel something else, it’s the first song I queue up.
But that’s good music should be. An inspiration to vicariously scream, to feel someone else’s emotions as if they are your own. The line between your life and that of the songwriter are forever blurred. And you lose yourself completely in someone else’s story.