I think what bothers people most about a lack of music bubbling up is akin to loneliness. This might account for that avril lavigne madness about how music could be your boyfriend.
Whatever you think of a statement like that, its snapple-cap version of a fairly intelligent point. While I don't advocate anyone beging to get their morale superiority on by declaring their monogamous patronage to music, how we walk through life is very much a product of music. At least for the junkies that frequent these boards.
If you're anything like me, songs aren't heard so much as their ingested. I will download a song and play that ****er until it would have been destroyed on lesser mediums like records or CD's. Even at such an advanced state it still manages to screw up my iPod when I keep repeating songs and small sections of songs.
I can recall nearly an entire summer of listening to TV on the Radio's "Blues from down here" and if you were on the boards at the time you've probably seen me try and jam that down your throat. Or ears. Or whatever.
I haven't really thought about this much before now, so to the nerdy wallflower out there who's rolling out their scrolls on how advaned your theories are - my apologies. But it seems to me how cathartic some of our favorite things can be. Not because we're hearing them but maybe because we feel like lyrics or music is us speaking out loud.
Its mind boggling to imagine how this might look otherwise. As if you had an out of body experience and the metaphysical you mumbled senselessly to the you it just left....yeah I don't know either.
What I do know is this. When TVotR says a line like:
With my wet hair, I wipe the blood off of your feet
Carry me through these shark infested waters
Well you spared me from slaughter for sure,
but these sharks are equally in need of a martyr
its the subconscious equivalent of reading cave paintings with hieroglyphic subtitles. You don't exactly get what their saying, you couldn't exactly fix the grammar for them, but emotionally you get the gist. For me, that summer, having had my heart ripped clean out by a 5'1 blonde from Jersey, the only think keeping my brain in my head was some duct tape and Return to Cookie Mountain.
Don't get me wrong. I still think Avril Lavigne needs a sandwich and a swift kick in her gerbil fangs but all I'm saying is...I don't know, maybe she was on to something.