Party on the Bloc?

Feeling kinda down tonight; just generally run down and a bit tired.

Been listening to a lot of A Weekend in the City, Bloc Party's new album. It's not as strong as Silent Alarm, but it's different; seems a bit more contemplative, a bit more melancholic. I wonder if that's part of the reason for my current mood. Favorite track so far is "I Still Remember", which, in my typical fashion, I've had on repeat for the last little while and it's already solidly into my Top 25 Played Songs:

I...I still remember
how you looked that afternoon.
There was only you.

You said "It's just like a full moon,"
Blood beats faster in our veins.
We left our trousers by the canal
And our fingers, they almost touched

You should have asked me for it;
I would have been brave.
You should have asked me for it;
How could I say no?

And our love could have soared
Over playgrounds and rooftops;
Every park bench screams your name.
I kept your tie

I'd've gone wherever you wanted

I still remember

And on that teachers' training day
We wrote our names on every train;
Laughed at the people off to work,
So monochrome and so lukewarm.

And I can see our days are becoming nights,
I could feel your heartbeat across the grass.
We should have run,
I would go with you anywhere.
I should have kissed you by the water

You should have asked me for it;
I would have been brave.
You should have asked me for it;
How could I say no?

And our love could have soared
Over playgrounds and rooftops;
Every park bench screams your name.
I kept your tie

I'd've let you if you asked me.

I still remember.

In case you were wondering (and I know you were!), this is what my full Top 25 Played Songs list looks like on this computer:

Fields of Gold (New Version) - Sting
I Saw Her at the Anti-War Demonstration - Jens Lekman
Motorcycle Drive By - Third Eye Blind
Landslide - Fleetwood Mac
Regret - New Order
Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Code Monkey - Jonathan Coulton
Here It Goes Again - OK Go
Rockaway Beach - The Ramones
Do You Wanna Dance - The Ramones
Bad - U2
Glasgow Love Theme - Craig Armstrong
Perfect Day - Lou Reed
New Slang - The Shins
The New Year - Death Cab for Cutie
I Still Remember - Bloc Party
Turn - New Order
The Trapeze Swinger - Iron & Wine
Oh Well - Fiona Apple
Jesus Doesn't Want Me For a Sunbeam (Live) - Nirvana
Please Please Please - Fiona Apple
Unwritten - Natasha Bedingfield
This Modern Love - Bloc Party
Since I Saw Her Standing There - The Beatles
For Real - Okkervil River

Man...I have the weirdest taste in music ever. I mean, I prefer the term, "eclectic," but let's face it, that's a nice way of saying weird, kind of like "eccentric."

If Music Be the Food of Love...

When it comes to identity, there are so many things people latch onto in an effort to help define themselves. For whatever reason, music is the most powerful of these identifiers. People are affected by music, people associate specific emotions and times of their life with certain albums.

I have never really felt that way about music.

To be sure, there are songs I like and dislike, songs whose lyrics I appreciate and enjoy on a deeper level than aesthetic enjoyment of the lyricist's craft. I can hear songs and instantly associate them with a specific time frame, whether college, high school or earlier. But for the most part, I lack any kind of a deeper emotional connection to songs. I don't have a song that encapsulates everything about me, a signature karaoke song, if you will. I don't have a breakup song. I don't think I've had "relationship" songs; we did have some, but I think they got carried over to her future relationships, and honestly (I'm trying very hard to avoid the tone of this getting bitter, as I'm not. Of course, protestations of non-bitterness tend to be the first sign of being bitter), she can keep them if she's that attached to them.

Is it possible that I really do have these kinds of songs, that I emotionally edit myself and my history to avoid them? Of course it is. So much of my history is forgotten, probably compartmentalized; I've always had a vague sense of not really existing, of having no history, of being liable to dissolve into mist the instant someone touches me, because there seems to be so much of my life I cannot remember. Perhaps that is why I am so apt to pour myself into relationships, and why I tend to be attracted to more aggressive, dominating women; I seek (or had sought; I definitely try to avoid this these days. Not necessarily the attraction, as you can't help that, but the seeking) definition and meaning for myself from another person.

When I was younger, my father didn't listen to a whole lot of music. I remember we had a record player in Brantford, but not much music; certainly very little of the pop variety. The only music I remember being played was by this wannabe crooner named Roger Whittaker. I think my dad liked him. There was one song in particular I can remember, about a father who had gone off to war (the Second one), and the letters he wrote back to his wife, seen from the perspective of their child. The song ends with a letter from one of the father's platoon mates, telling of the father's death.

I seem unable to find this song. I'm not even sure what its title is; I would assume 1944 or something along those lines, since that factors into the chorus ("It was ninteen hundred and forty four; papa went off to war"). I wonder what hearing it today would do to me. Would I break down into sobs for a childhood I never really knew and can't seem to remember? Would I be struck by what a terrible song it was, and feel ashamed for liking it?

Would I feel nothing at all?