hell below me, stars above...

broke down and bought a toadies album from itunes today. it's one of those albums that i've tried on numerous occasions to get my brother to copy for me, but he hasn't, because he's terrible with his CDs and gets them all scratched up or loses them, which is somewhat inconsistent with what a music devotee (dare i say music snob?) my brother is. so, whatever. today i just bought the damn thing.

it's fan-effing-tastic. makes me wanna listen to it real loud. and makes me long for the days when i used to be a brooding wannabe rockstar; back when i could justify biting my fingernails because, you know, they had to be short because i played guitar; back when i had callouses on my fingertips from the tautness of strings against frets; back when i would figure out the chords to all the songs on albums as soon as i got them (i still can do it, i just don't ever make the time). sigh...

my one real regret in life is that i never learned to read music. i always had these piano teachers as a kid who would play new songs for me, and i would listen and play back what i heard. i could get by this way. and i was a bratty kid who would rather be climbing trees than practicing "hot cross buns" or whatever the hell on the piano. so as a result, i can sightread melodies well enough, but i'm painfully slow when it comes to playing anything remotely complex on the piano. and as for reading notes for the guitar? forget about it! i do, however, know all my chords, from studying tablature charts and training my hands to feel comfortable in the various positions.

my mother was brilliant on the piano. you could set a piece of sheet music in front of her and she could play her way through it, skillful both at reading the notes and hearing/anticipating the progression of the piece. i loved when she would play. it was fluid, graceful, reassuring. sometimes she would play the song "emily" from _the americanization of emily_, because of my name (for my brother daniel, it was "danny's song"). i have dear memories of watching her play piano, guitar, singing. she was incredibly talented, but modest in her expression. it was just something she did, like breathing or telling bad jokes.

i've always thought that the first major purchase i'd like to make when i've got the income to support major purchases will be a piano. and i'll resume lessons, because i very much want to be able to play like my mother and my grandmother and all of the various aunts and uncles who are crazy fantastic piano players. i come from one of those wacky music-obsessed families. renditions of "happy birthday" at family celebrations were almost always done in three-part harmony. the choir in my church growing up was and still is practically held together by various members of my extended family. i like that a lot. there's something jubilant and carefree about it, something that i'm not always good at mustering on my own. it feels important, it feels fundamental, foundational. it's all there somewhere, lurking in my soul. but i've yet to tap into it, other than my teenage self with her indie rock ambitions and my current self who seems to think that making up songs about, well, everything is appropriate and funny.

wow. i really got off track with this post. all i wanted to write about was how terrific that toadies album is (it's called "hell below/stars above", hence the subject line). and silly me, it turned into a wistful wandering through memory lane, set to music...

Stars above are shining down
Nothing ever gonna hurt me now
And I slip away happy as a clam
Stars above are smiling now
Ever since you put me down
And I close my eyes, and I can't see your face
Stars above are shining down...