I am a sucker for Coldplay. The first time I heard them I thought it was U2 I was listening to. Chris Martin makes no bones about his desire to be the U2 of this generation. I know that for me that makes perfect sense. The music, the ballads are reflective and I know the melancholy is abundant, but I love it. This band touches me. Fix You off of X&Y is another one that hits deep and floods me. Martin’s voice isn’t perfect, instead it’s vulnerable which makes him believable.
Coldplay Viva La Vida Live Video Music Awards High Quality
From the archives: I posted this a while ago, and it has taken on yet another meaning.
This song came out at a time when I felt very much like the lyrics suggest. I would hear it and at once feel like I understood the artist, and then immediately want to cry. Crying was good then, and so I turned to this tune on more than one occasion to pull me out, down, or up. It may be trite, but it worked.
All day staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
Feeling like I’m headed for a breakdown
And I don’t know why
[Chorus]
But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be…me
I’m talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
And I know, I know they’ve all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow I’ve lost my mind
[Chorus]
But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be
I’ve been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they’ll come to get me
Yeah, they’re taking me away
[Chorus]
But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Yeah, how I used to be
How I used to be
Well, I’m just a little unwell
How I used to be
How I used to be
I’m just a little unwell
I fell in love with this song the first time I heard it as I watched Thelma and Louise. There are songs/movies that provoke feelings that can overwhelm you and so you listen/watch them when you know you want to go to those places. The lyrics, poetic and gritty, combined with Faithfulls voice are simply mesmerizing. It is a girl thing, and I rarely do girly. I have included the lyrics. Beautiful poetry from an extraordinary woman who lived the rock dream/nightmare and survived to tell.
THE BALLAD OF LUCY JORDAN
by Marianne Faithfull
The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan.
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there ‘neath the covers,
dreaming of a thousand lovers
till the world turned to orange
and the room went spinning round.
At the age of thirty-seven
she realized she’d never ride through Paris
in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing,
and she sat there softly singing
pretty nursery rhymes she’d memorized
in her daddy’s easy chair.
Her husband, he’s off to work;
and the kids are off to school.
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours,
or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street,
screaming all the way.
At the age of thirty-seven
she realized she’d never ride through Paris
in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing
as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes shed memorized
in her daddy’s easy chair.
The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
on the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
and she bowed and curtsied to the man
who reached and offered her his hand,
as he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.
