Whenever I hear this song I think of unfinished basements. I remember the Subway manager who gave me drum lessons in the lowest level of his house near the park, when I was in high school, beside his OK Computer poster, and the roommate of his that slept in a room near the drums that was only closed off by hung blankets. He was once offered a scholarship to Berkeley, but decided he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life playing jazz. Instead he played drums in local bands too good to remain local, but never lucky enough to do much more. He taught me this song and burned numerous cds for me, my introduction to Death Cab, The Postal Service, The Appleseed Cast, Ryan Adams, The Mars Volta, and Weezer’s Pinkerton. I hear this song and I think of his basement and all the basements my friends spent hours in, talking about anything, up too late. The basements with the sunken couches, the nights that were never too long. This level of the house always has a smell, never bad, just a little tired, but it’s a place you grow to miss. I think of all those basement parties, where I was the only one not drinking, but still managed to draw attention and mask how well I didn’t fit in with the right jokes. While they spoke of domestic brews, I played stealthy with a plastic ninja star found in my best friend’s car, I joked about my vast knowledge of Gilmore Girls and proved it. I found a way, always.
Let’s dance in a water balloon avalanche with feathers in our hair and the longest green hill to roll down, sun and butterflies, pinwheels and popsicles, to this song.
I’m not saying you should watch this video and then listen to all of Driver Friendly’s music… but you should totally do it. I mean, at least watch this video? It’s a tribute to Tom Hanks.
My god this band is the best, perfect poppy catchy summer tunes, and the raddest music videos. Buy everything of theirs, pronto! (I don’t mean to shout, but I would suggest you follow my suggestion, love you).
This song: a Trojan horse full of poppies, every hot air balloon, a child with a bubble wand running forever, the bubble growing forever, fireflies, peach trees with every branch heavy, counting stars, the hum of the interstate at 1 in the morning, your grandmother’s quilt, lit sparklers in your hands, running with your arms stretched, pretending you’re an airplane, never landing, never thinking of ever landing again
Too beautiful and powerful to ever be described easily
Soupy from The Wonder Years, Nick from The Swellers, Carmen from Young Statues, and my beloved Ace Enders from The Early November covering one of those 90’s jams you love to love.
Listening to the new Sigur Ros album feels like your body’s exploding into a solar flare of rainbow fish and starfruit, in slow motion, in an ocean in a cave on the moon, and somewhere there’s a man playing a piano on a mountain on Saturn, and you can’t see him, but you know he’s there and you can hear that song underwater, so you just keep floating and exploding, in this case, the exploding never harms, it’s more like blooming, you start glowing, you become the most beautiful you’ve ever been
