This is the last installment of 400 RPM. Thank you to all the writers who have participated.
What Sara Said
By Le Clown.
She was the one standing in the middle of the room with a brand new pair of silver glitter Converse shoes. Around her, one hundred friends waiting in silence.
She was the one grinning with a “I told you it wouldn’t work” smile, while I was running with my black classic Converse shoes hoping to find a solution. Around me, one hundred friends grinning with her.
She was the one who invited her besties to roll seed bombs, who dyed coffee filters to wrap each seed bomb in, who shouted “I don’t think it will work my love, I hope you are ready for plan B… Do you actually have a plan B?”
She was the one who suggested Death Cab For Cutie‘s I Will Follow You into the Dark. It would be the first song. It could have been The Flaming Lips‘ Do You Realize, but we asked one hundred friends, and most agreed with her.
She was the one standing in the middle of the room being right: the MP3 CD would not work in the music player the venue provided us with. ”Time for plan B, sweetie.”
…What plan B?
“Anyone has an iPod or iPad or anything with Death Cab for Cutie‘s I Will Follow You into the Dark? Please?”
“You’re in luck,” said one of our hundred friends, “that is the only DCFC song I have on my iPod.”
Plan B hooked his iPod to the music player, and pressed PLAY.
The song PLAYED.
She was the one who pushed through one hundred friends and walked towards me in her silver glitter Converse shoes. We held each other, and danced our first song as newlyweds.
Two years ago today.
Inspired by I Will Follow You into the Dark.
I was an emo kid when there were just two of us in our school of over 2,000 students. When peers would ask; “you listen to what?” when I’d announce my preferred genre of music. I was an emo kid when emo meant striped polo shirts, canvas shoes, ill fitting sweaters and bad haircuts. When I was an emo kid emo meant Texas is the Reason, The Promise Ring, Modest Mouse, Further Seems Forever, Saves The Day, The Juliana Theory, Thursday, the first Jimmy Eat World Album… Okay I’ll stop. My dad said “If you want to play guitar you’ve got to get rid of the bike; do one thing properly.” Easy decision, my old Honda 80 was sold the very same week. My friend and I left school as soon as we legally could and practiced hard. We built our own soundproof rehearsal room from salvaged tin and carpet under the house. My brother joined on bass and over the next year we played almost every week as The Epistolary. Our tight, brightly coloured, second hand, button up, short sleeve shirts clung to our wiry torsos, clashing spectacularly with the muscular, black clad metal bands of the time. “You guys are like a Russian Joy Division” proclaimed an inebriated member of the audience after one performance. Riiiiiight.
The Byron Bay straight edge hardcore scene was intimidating. We smoked cigarettes and ate beef burgers while they looked on in disgust. Everything was black and Parkway Drive were finding their sound as trucker capped kids swung their arms wildly. We met our friends there, our very own fan girls. One of them was telling me about a couple of bands she’d just started listening to. Coheed and Cambria, and Death Cab For Cutie. “Awesome,” I said. More bands to listen to, to learn from, to absorb. One week later The Epistolary were no more. Musical differences. I was moving away from that sound. I filled my ipod with Kate Bush, David Bowie, Leonard Cohen, The Smiths and Woody Guthrie. Coheed and Death Cab were too late. They were the bands that didn’t quite make it before I changed my listening habits. Coheed I heard later; didn’t do it for me. I heard Death Cab for the first time today, before writing this post. And it brought me back. I didn’t know the songs, but I knew the sound. Thank you emo.
Inspired by Summer Skin.
Featured image: “Untitled”, by Sonja Barbaric. Used with the expressed consent of the artist.