I don’t believe that anyone can deny that listening to the perfect song in just the right situation is a pretty powerful phenomenon. We’ve all been there. You’re driving in your car at night, looking up at the black sky and highway signs and a song comes on the radio or your iPod that sort of seems to be made for that exact moment in time. Maybe you’re drunk at some party and the same thing happens.
The rain is a good time to listen to music. It gives a fitting backdrop to good music.
I’ll come right out and say it. Conor Oberst’s I’m Wide Away It’s Morning changed how I listen to music. Especially this song. Oberst’s love note to the city seemingly scrawled on some cafe napkin whispered over the scratching of old guitar strings and the stubborn, yet hopeful strum of a few chords. Oberst sings:
“We might die from medication but we sure killed all the pain”
Medication can be anything. Drugs, as Oberst implicates in the song, art, food, anything. Even a place. For Oberst, New York was his medication, his mistress, his clean, well-lighted place where he could drink and hang with models and get fucked up. I think everyone needs this type of place in their life, a place where they can feel like their wide awake and that it’s morning. This is the medication.