A Great Undertaking

I have no idea what I was thinking.

About a month and a half ago, I decided that I needed to create a playlist that Kurt and I could play in our apartment. (Even though I believe there is probably a one in four chance of us ever living together)

Named "so fucking cool," (note 1) I am seeking to build a collection of music within my current library that sets an ambiance of cool and cultured relaxation. I want for us to be able to turn on this playlist and hang out with or without others while chatting, drinking, eating, fornicating, whatever. I'm seeking something that's eclectic and enjoyable. I also have the feeling that it will turn out quite pretentious. (note 2)

So what does it take to gain selection into this playlist?

1. The song must be cool (ex. anything by The National ..)
2. The song must be good (ex. nothing by Hinder)
3. The song must set a good mood
4. The song must be liked by me
5. Number four pretty much overrides everything else

Well, fuck, that must be easy, just make a list of your favourite songs, right?

Well, no. I have to be selective against some of my favorite artists like Bon Iver or The National because otherwise all of their songs would be in the playlist. I feel that it is unfair for a recent artist like either of these two to have their entire collection included while a great like Bob Dylan will have somewhere between 15-20 songs (although, I am yet to begin choosing what I want to represent Bobby). Choosing to do make this psuedo-rule has made everything more difficult, but I'm too stubborn and idiotic to change.

What if Bob Dylan walks in and sees that I've included all of The Boxer in my ultimate playlist, but only half of Blonde On Blonde? Then, I'm royally screwed, and any chance I had of being friends with Dylan will have gone straight down the tubes. Thus, I have to maintain my respect for the elders of great music (Dylan, The Beatles, Robert Johnson) while also incorporating all of my favorites. Difficult, but necessary.

However, my biggest problem in constructing "so fucking cool" is that I don't necessarily know the name of every song I would choose from each artist. Music always seems to be on in the background of my life via computer, car stereo, and ipod, so I'm not always paying attention to the title of the song playing. This may not seem to be terribly difficult, but one band clearly demonstrates this mini-hell I have created for myself.

Explosions in the Sky.

I can name precisely two Explosions in the Sky songs immediately upon hearing them:

1. Your Hand In Mine
2. Your Hand In Mine (with strings)

I bet you can't guess how I can distinguish them, right?

Outside of those two songs, I'm completely lost. I have no idea if "Six Days At The Bottom Of The Ocean" is any different from "First Breath After Coma" by looking at the song titles. But, no big deal, just listen to snippets of each and determine which one I like, right?

Wrong.

Not only are each of these songs longer than eight and a half minutes, but each has different so many different parts and about fourteen climaxes that I have no idea if I want the song in the playlist unless I listen to the whole thing. Hence, I am sitting here stuck listening to both of them. And afterwards, I still can't tell you which song is which if you played one of them for me.

Addtionally, I find myself running back to my computer in order to make sure I add a song that is playing and fits perfectly into the list whenever I'm doing something else like chores. Specifically, doing dishes. Apparently, my Macbook is quite resiliant to dishwater as I am constantly using my soapy hands to direct the songs I want into my playlist. Just my luck, when I finally get near wrapping up "so fucking cool," I will finally break my computer's back with my soaked hands and cause it to fry immediately. In that case, I'm finding a less complicated possible future roommate.

Now, I can't help but think while I sift my way through all of this music that my father never had to deal with a such a monumental problem when he was my age. He picked out which Pink Floyd or Alan Parsons record he wanted to listen to at that moment and sat back. Light a joint, flip it once, light another. Simple. Easy. Ambiance.

After considering this contrast, I have no qualms understading the existence of Prozac in modern day society.

(note 1) - Notice the lack of capitalization in the title, in honor of Kurt.
(note 2) - Side tangent, has anyone ever noticed that only pretentious people use the word "pretentious?" Even when folks say they are specifically trying to be "unpretentious," they automatically become pretentious in my book just because of their personal use of the word. I think the entire word "pretentious" could spawn its own Stuff White People Like post.