Sometimes music hurts, fools.
And sometimes it's so damn pretty that you have to listen, even if it's like torture.
When I'm in those situations, I cry. It's a hella-manly kind of cry, though, in my case. Even more manly than this dude, who cried like a man:
Some songs are so bad, however, that for a while at least, I can't stop crying whenever I hear them. The bitch is, I love these songs and get addicted to them when I first hear them. The bitch also is, if I love a song that much, I listen to it over and over again. I end up crying a lot.
Sooner or later, thank goodness, I gain what I call "crying immunity" to a song. This is the point where I am no longer forced to weep when I hear a song. When I gain crying immunity, I can finally just listen to the song instead of marvel at its beauty and otherwise generally lose it.
Probably the first song to do this to me was "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton. I mean, DAMN, that fool loved that good-lookin' woman! Shoot, he wasn't afraid to tell her, either! And he was all living with her and shit and getting to watch her get ready and she still wanted to know if he thought she looked good even though she damn well didn't have to! Uh-huh, and he shonuff told her, too, and then he took her home after the party and they made sweet, sweet love. Whew!
It's not like I did this in private, either. My friends would play it when I was around or talk about it in a deliberate attempt to make me cry. It worked like a charm, until I gained crying immunity.
There's always a new song that will get me going. Take, for example, "Thanks Again" by Ricky Skaggs (sample link only, sorry cholly), a song Skaggs wrote to thank his parents for everything (and also to jack me up hardcore). When I first listened to this evil monster of a song, I was driving from San Antonio, Texas to its neighbor to the north New Braunfels. I had just bought a greatest hits collection called Country Gentleman and this song hit me. I almost had to pull over. Even though what happened with Skaggs and his parents didn't happen with me in exactly the same way, I could still identify with what he was saying.
I got home and Tara was eating dinner. I put the song on the stereo and asked her to listen. When she heard what was going on, she stopped in mid-swallow and began to cry uncontrollably. I was like, "Right, right?" and she nodded. "Thanks Again" stomped on her soul some more and then she was OK a little bit later.
I popped this song on my friend Dave while I was dropping him off at his first law school function. I did it in the same ninja style, and oy, the waterworks! We drive around a little extra so the song could finish, and then I let him out with plenty of walkin-off-the-cry distance to the function.
This happened with everyone I tried it with, except for Katie, my sister-in-law, who must have injected her heart with novacaine before she heard the song.
Now I can listen to this song without breaking down. It's still a tad dicey when I try to belt it out loud, though. My voice gets all quavery and I have to breathe more than normal, or else I can't make it. That I can listen at all without getting all soft and mushy is a victory.
You got any songs that do this to you? Let me know what they are.
For now I leave you with another one I had to gain crying immunity to: Iron and Wine's "Naked as We Came."
And sometimes it's so damn pretty that you have to listen, even if it's like torture.
When I'm in those situations, I cry. It's a hella-manly kind of cry, though, in my case. Even more manly than this dude, who cried like a man:
Some songs are so bad, however, that for a while at least, I can't stop crying whenever I hear them. The bitch is, I love these songs and get addicted to them when I first hear them. The bitch also is, if I love a song that much, I listen to it over and over again. I end up crying a lot.
Sooner or later, thank goodness, I gain what I call "crying immunity" to a song. This is the point where I am no longer forced to weep when I hear a song. When I gain crying immunity, I can finally just listen to the song instead of marvel at its beauty and otherwise generally lose it.
Probably the first song to do this to me was "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton. I mean, DAMN, that fool loved that good-lookin' woman! Shoot, he wasn't afraid to tell her, either! And he was all living with her and shit and getting to watch her get ready and she still wanted to know if he thought she looked good even though she damn well didn't have to! Uh-huh, and he shonuff told her, too, and then he took her home after the party and they made sweet, sweet love. Whew!
It's not like I did this in private, either. My friends would play it when I was around or talk about it in a deliberate attempt to make me cry. It worked like a charm, until I gained crying immunity.
There's always a new song that will get me going. Take, for example, "Thanks Again" by Ricky Skaggs (sample link only, sorry cholly), a song Skaggs wrote to thank his parents for everything (and also to jack me up hardcore). When I first listened to this evil monster of a song, I was driving from San Antonio, Texas to its neighbor to the north New Braunfels. I had just bought a greatest hits collection called Country Gentleman and this song hit me. I almost had to pull over. Even though what happened with Skaggs and his parents didn't happen with me in exactly the same way, I could still identify with what he was saying.
I got home and Tara was eating dinner. I put the song on the stereo and asked her to listen. When she heard what was going on, she stopped in mid-swallow and began to cry uncontrollably. I was like, "Right, right?" and she nodded. "Thanks Again" stomped on her soul some more and then she was OK a little bit later.
I popped this song on my friend Dave while I was dropping him off at his first law school function. I did it in the same ninja style, and oy, the waterworks! We drive around a little extra so the song could finish, and then I let him out with plenty of walkin-off-the-cry distance to the function.
This happened with everyone I tried it with, except for Katie, my sister-in-law, who must have injected her heart with novacaine before she heard the song.
Now I can listen to this song without breaking down. It's still a tad dicey when I try to belt it out loud, though. My voice gets all quavery and I have to breathe more than normal, or else I can't make it. That I can listen at all without getting all soft and mushy is a victory.
You got any songs that do this to you? Let me know what they are.
For now I leave you with another one I had to gain crying immunity to: Iron and Wine's "Naked as We Came."
