Something About the Night

Tonight is the last real day of summer I have. The minutes shuffle by, waiting for me to do something. Instead, I stare in front of a computer screen, listening to Animal Collective. My phone is beside me, but I don't use it. The only light comes from the overheating office lamp next to the keyboard. Have I grown this summer? Did I do something worthwhile? What will I have to tell my children about the summer before my Senior year? My thoughts turn to reminiscence instead of living in the present, another sign of the end of summer.

Animal Collective still plays in the background.

Much of my summer nights were spent babbling to my brother Scott about music. Modern Vampires this, Yeezus that; Replacements here, Beach Boys there; shot of Bon Iver, and a heavy dose of Animal Collective. Animal Collective is certainly the wildest and funnest of the bands listed, most likely because each AC song is doused in acid and wrapped in Marijuana leaves. When I first looked up the Baltimore band, I typed into YouTube "Animal Coll-" and what came up was "My Girls- Animal Collective". At the end of the song, I was scared, unnerved, and entranced with it.
Then I looked up "Who Could Win a Rabbit" and didn't listen to AC for two weeks.

Each summer day lasts an eternity. every hour blends into one another in the way that you stir chocolate milk. what looks at first like two totally different objects churns into a blissful concoction. I often sat down on the wooden swing in the backyard and listened to the ever present creaking of the metal on timber. My Dad and I got in a fight, I was tired of playing the piano, dinner wasn't ready yet, a thought floated in my head, but no matter what the creaking of metal on timber was there. It seemed that every jarring chord hypnotized me, sent me to a better place. I may have spent twenty minutes on that swing, I may have spent days, but I always gave my time on the swing, listening to the cracking wood, the time needed for it to be worthwhile.

Every Animal Collective song is at least four and a half minutes long and are basically inaudible. Alternative music paradise. The tracks repeat themselves, lay down strange, alien rhythms, and confuse the crap out of me. But they are beautiful to me. To most people, AC songs are torture techniques Terrorists use for Bowe Bergdahl, but not to me. Each track lasts an eternity and frustrates you with slow progression. I've noticed that to appreciate many great music artists, you must A: listen to it at the needed perspective, and B: have patience. So, I've given every Animal Collective the needed amount of time to reveal it's psychedelic genius.

Summer is almost over. The Animal Collective album I'm listening to is on its last track. "Brothersport", it's called. A six minute anthem that has no lyrical meaning to me, but I still grasp on to every word. "Until you're fully grown/ You got the real good shot/ Won't help to hold inside/ give a real give a real shout". These lyrics are spit out for three straight minutes, but it will end. I'll finish the blog post, I'll finish the summer, I'll read a few pages of a few books, and I'll go to bed. That will be my summer. Tomorrow, I start class, but maybe I've already learned something...