Til the morning comes

I admire flippancy in many forms, because everything I do is planned to the greatest extent possible. But you know, I'm sitting here with my new turntable, watching and listening to my Mum's records from the seventies, and thinking that if I was flippant about more things - would I notice just how much the old crackling sounds like vinyl breathing? Little things. 


Speaking about vinyl. I suppose I'm going back to my little kid roots a little, listening to Neil Young and Joni Mitchell, America, Carly Simon, you know. It's funny, how far from that small girl I am now, what the songs mean now, and what I remember they were. Like this:

When I was little I absolutely lapped up this song, and I think it had something to do with the imagery in the lyrics...


'You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht
Your hat strategically dipped below one eye
Your scarf it was apricot
You had one eye on the mirror as you watched yourself gavotte
And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner
They'd be your partner, and...'

Same with these...

These songs, plus a select few more, are very deeply engrained into my system, even though Mum would sometimes skip Woodstock because it was the slowest song on the mixtape in our old Volvo. 


I was talking to someone at some point in my life and Joni Mitchell came up, and I said something like 'she taught me how to feel.' Which, to a degree, I think is very true, even though my companion scoffed and said 'You're fifteen, you don't know how to feel yet,' (also a valid observation but nonetheless). I know I learnt more from listening to Joni Mitchell's 'Ladies of the Canyon' as a child, than I did in the entirety of my ninth year of existing.