I’ve been listening to Aimee Mann’s “The Forgotten Arm” the last few days, and it’s making me depressed. Not “cut my wrists and bleed out into a warm bath” depressed, but that almost pleasant self-indulgent melancholy that some music can provoke. This is actually a glowing endorsement for the album by the way. It’s really very good.
Songwriting-wise I don’t seem to do “happy” very well. It’s not that I’m not a reasonably happy person (at least sometimes) but rather that I don’t much like happy music. I think Steven Wilson from Porcupine Tree has a quote along those lines – sad music can actually be uplifting because it’s so honest and visceral. Happy, jaunty tunes always seem to come off sounding so… contrived.
La de daa, roses and fluffy bunnies and lace, oh me oh my!
Please.
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