This began as a joke. You know, the self-effacing kind where we mock those creative types in popular culture who are snapped doing exactly this, and are similarly scathing of the 'real-life' people who do the same thing: penning (probably bad) poetry into Moleskines and smoking Camel Lights while someone hand tattoos something ironically hilarious onto their inner-forearm. As we talked about it more and more however, it became clear that every contributor to the Top Five had at least five tracks on-hand for moments such as these, perhaps sans the tattoos, plus wine, plus pyjamas, plus Bridget Jone's Diary.
As someone with a disastrous and quite depressing romantic life; as someone with few discernable talents (other than “eating cheese” and “misusing commas”); as someone who often considers becoming a hermit in the icy wastes of Northern Europe; and as someone who has recently lived with non-smokers in a third story apartment, I am well practised at wistfully smoking cigarettes out windows. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Firstly, windowsills are nearly always uncomfortable and awkward to sit on. Secondly, smoking out a window can be an exercise in futility when you live in a windy place: the smoke just blows back in again, and occasionally a burning piece of ash flies back in your face before settling on the carpet, leading to panic about burning down the building. Thirdly, there’s no getting around it, I have to listen to the most depressing and pathetic music possible while perching uncomfortably in the windowsill, squinting as smoke is blown back in my face, considering the impossibility of finding a boy in high school as compared to the uselessness of searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie, and wondering whether or not my flatmates will notice if I chop a large slice off their $10 a kilo Edam. My soundtrack for these beautiful moments of wistful longing I recount for you below:
1) Xtina Aguilera, 'The Voice Within': I was 18, up from university in Wellington and really excited about seeing all my friends. I sent out the mass text to say I was ready and available for hang times. Sadly, it turned out they had all gone on holiday without me, which taught me a very important life lesson: you are born alone, and you will die alone and you can never truly go home. Just kidding. The life lesson was that when you live in a different city from your high school friends and pop back home on a whim during university holidays, don’t expect them to have included you in their plans to frolic on Waiheke if you did not first tell them you were going to be around. Anyway. I was sitting on the couch feeling very lonesome and sad about all this when The Voice Within video came on. Almost immediately I disobeyed Xtina’s instruction to not cry, and started weeping – just a single tear at first, but as the beat dropped, floodgates opened and there was full, omni-eye crying. It was like she was singing it just for me. The Voice Within has since become my go-to cigarette out a window song, especially when I’m filled with self pity/loathing.
2) Joanna Newsom, 'Jackrabbits': “I was tired of being drunk/my face cracked like a joke/so I swung through here like a brace of jackrabbits/with their necks all broke”, and it’s all downhill from there.
3) Sam Cooke, 'A Change Is Gonna Come': Although I was not born by the river in a little tent, I find this is an excellent song to smoke out the window to while looking at the stars, questioning God’s (or what-have-you’s) will and asking yourself what it is all about. The orchestration – namely the strings in the start and the horns that appear halfway through - give the whole wistful smoke out a window activity a rather grand (read: self important) vibe. Sam Cooke was a babe, so you can muse on that, too.
4) Dusty Springfield, 'I Can’t Make it Alone': This is the wistfully smoke out the window while thinking about loves won and lost song, especially if you’re a desperado who screwed up a relationship and is FILLED WITH REGRET. In high school, we came up with concept of the Spinster Army, which is, obviously, an army peopled with spinsters of both sexes who march to songs like Caring is Creepy while doing synchronised hand-movements. I Can’t Make it Alone, with its crazy-desperate lyrics set against a steady drum beat, could be the Spinster Army’s theme song. Imagine scores of spinsters marching to this song, and then falling to their knees at 1.47 when Dusty cries: “but who else can I tu-uurrrn too? Ohh baby I’m begging you” before rolling around on the ground in despair? It is a compelling image.
5) Joni Mitchell, 'California': (Looking at the stars, sitting in windowsill, longing for adventure) “Someday I’ll dance barefoot under the full moon on a beach down a red dirt road with a red red rogue and even though the party will be amazing I’ll be all “despite myself, I miss my stupid hometown” and, once I’m tanned enough and strung out on another man, I’ll hop on a plane out of there on a whim, lean my head against the window, write a song about how cool I am, and kiss the sunset pig, whatever that is (David Crosby?)”
- Hannah Cooke
1) Bon Iver, 'For Emma': I am not a smoker. Nor am I a boy. But I am imagining myself as both right now. My girlfriend has broken up with me, my dog died, my car was stolen, I was fired from my job, my favourite jeans have a hole in the knee. I am sobbing while listening to this song. I am staring out the window but my view is straight into my ugly neighbour’s bathroom. Life is bleak, I have never cut such a maudlin figure and I am secretly loving it.
2) TLC, 'Waterfalls': This song is a cautionary tale which addresses some heavy issues (AIDS / youth drug addiction) perfect to mull over, but it also makes you think about the awesome CGI water scenes in the video clip, and the fact that Left Eye used to put a condom over the left lens of her glasses to promote safe sex (for realz). And that, my friends, is a win-win.
3) Tom Waits, 'Alice': In real life I loathe Tom Waits. His voice makes my head hurt. But in wistful window life I would totes listen to him while drinking red wine (blech) and committing my innermost thoughts to paper between puffs.
4) Amy Winehouse, 'Love is a Losing Game': Because nothing goes better with a clichéd cigarette and a stare out the window than a clichéd musical renaissance after someone dies. While listening, smoking and staring I will contemplate whether it would ever be worth dying so early to join the 27 Club. No one will give a shit because I’m not famous, right?
5) TV on the Radio, 'Staring at the Sun': Only appropriate at sunset or sunrise when there is a lot of glare coming through your window. May result in blindness.
- Jamie Lind
I find that wistfully smoking is as much about location as it is soundtrack. I don’t often perform this task via windowsills as I’m one of those super-rad hypocritical addicts that would rather smoke linger in her lungs than sully her room. Accordingly my current positions with a view to look longingly at are either the chaise-longue in the conservatory (can stare at peach tree sprouting through the middle) or the hammock chair that swings somewhat perilously from my front porch.
Once in situ I will smoke wistfully in accordance with one of 2 personas; smug or sorry for myself. Self-congratulatory or self deprecating, basically. I also find that the art of smoking wistfully requires the perfect amount of hangover. Too little and you’re still capable of being around other humans, too much and you stay in bed watching back to back Gossip Girl/Gilmore Girls/Grey’s Anatomy on your laptop instead.
Crikey. This is a hard one to limit to just 5. A decent feeling sorry for yourself/smug session should last longer than what would constitute roughly 22 minutes of music. I think I’d be right in saying that indulging in wistfulness is up there as the most popular theme for playlists on itunes or CD mixes for the car. Right alongside anything to do with ‘amping up’ be it for a ‘maaaarsive nite out’ or ‘4 da gym.’ (I have both.)
Still, I had a go:
1) For the truly sad times I’ll always flick to Neil Young’s Live at Massey Hall album. But in particular – 'Tell Me Why'. This is just a great, great song. My heart breaks right alongside those first chords that cut through the clapping audience (aw, fake vom). When in the depths of artificial despair I like to opt for songs that are within my singing range in order that I can yelp along, and Neil Young has a favourable octave for executing such impassioned soloaraoke. (I’m not claiming that I can sing like Neil Young, only that I sound a little better than when I croon along to Joni Mitchell, for example. If I’m trying to keep up with Joni, I simply sound like a heavy smoking Justin Bieber having his hair slowly pulled out while doing the awkward opening number at the Oscars.)
2) Patti Smith, 'Kimberly': I think it's a generic confession, but listening to this is the perfect distraction for struggling brains as one can either pretend that they are Patti Smith, or as I often do, imagine their life as the music video.
3) Moving swiftly on to the smug times: Blossom Dearie – Tout Doucement. This song covers all bases; frivolity, jovial cycling, any kind of frolicking, tom foolery, cavorting or heels being kicked up. Basically gurning with your eyes closed about how bloody great life is. Which incidentally makes it the worst song to crop up on shuffle when you’re weepy. Shut UP Blossom, you want to say, while inexplicably still clicking your fingers.
4) Janis Joplin. Any of her songs really. But especially 'Bye bye baby'. It reminds me of her psychedelic Porsche, which always cheers me up. (Give it a Google image.)
5) I think it’s agreed that most playlists entitled something along the lines of ‘bluez’ ‘sad eyes’ ‘thinking times’ ‘Sundaze’ are often partly for show. There are always tracks you’ll miss off these listings for fear somebody will publically shame you, but ones that you’ll always turn to in times of need. Mine is Tracy Chapman. 'Fast Car'. Christ it’s just so good.
- Kat Patrick
____________________________________________________________
1) The Libertines, 'Music When the Lights Go Out': talk about an emotional torture chamber. I listened to this song obsessively after breaking up with my first serious boyfriend. Lighting candles, I would gaze out into the night and sigh hopelessly, recounting happy memories and nod solemnly to all Pete had to say. The tragedy of no longer loving each other became a drawn out emotional marathon of tears, DVDs, and buckets of ice cream. 'Music when the lights go out' was the soundtrack. As I ventured back into the world I was armed with my headphones, said song on repeat. Soon things spiralled out of control as I cried on public transport, facing awkward glances and uncomfortable looks of pity. Finally the moment of no return came. After a first date with a rebound (the first of many) I sat him down on a chair in my room, pressed play and explained to him that this was exactly how I felt about my ex-boyfriend, all the while weeping quietly.
- Joy Division, 'She's Lost Control': did anyone else go through a Joy Division phase, or do I stand alone in my ‘uncoolness’ of only being into them (albeit obsessively) for a set period of time, instead of, like, always? Ian Curtis, with all his angst, brilliance and self-loathing became a shining beacon of melancholy to get me through a particularly long and tough winter. I would sit quietly at my desk with inky fountain pen and moleskin (of course) and write self-involved and slightly contrived rants all the while muttering about my own brilliance and trying to ignore my flatmates as they enjoyed another season of Lost. What a dick I was. I'm so sorry Ian.
3) Weezer, 'Say It Ain't So': at age fourteen I encountered my first 'I'm feeling everything so deeply' song. 'Say it ain't so' by Weezer allowed me to channel all my middle class suburban multi-racial anxiety into 4 minutes of simmering resentment. It allowed me to say what I couldn't articulate. I'm so angry! I'm so deep! My best friend and I would sit in her older brother’s car, sip on stolen KGB lemon vodka and bang our heads. This was the summer I considered a ying and yang tattoo and she gave two boys a hand job at the same time. OMG.
4) Neil Young, 'See the sky about to rain/ Bad fog of loneliness': I genuinely love Neil, so I will try not to mock or tarnish his good name through self-depreciating stories of my own misfortune. ‘Bad fog of loneliness’ and ‘See the sky about to rain’ are my number one 'reflection' songs. I can sit down with a glass of red wine and lit cigarette, look out the window and enjoy the melancholy of his words, always. Neil, my go to man, I love you so.
5) Whitney Houston, 'I Have Nothing': this one is a goody as it is multifaceted. You can sit and reflect quietly, feel deep emotion, stare out the window, light candles, write emotional words and gulp back tears OR down of bottle wine, dance like a mad woman and belt out your finest Whitney falsetto with your girlfriends (who are definitely not judging you). Alternatively, if both scenarios are failing you can soak in the song and talk at lengths about Whitney Houston's addiction to crack cocaine. Awesome.
- Gemma Rasmussen
1) The Libertines, 'Music When the Lights Go Out': This pick isn’t just for me, this is for the Powers of Be of the Top Five, because I believe that without The Libertines several things – including pensively staring out of windows – would have ceased to exist. ‘Meaningful’ poetry by English Lit grads-slash-bloggers, Moleskines, hand drawn tattoos, and NME Magazine may all cease to be if it wasn’t for the debaucherous behaviour of these two Unlikely Lads. In all seriousness though, when Pete warbles over the lyric “The love I thought I knew is gone / I no longer hear the music” I take a deep, suggestive draw on my cigarette and scribble into my diary while trying to hold back the tears. Especially if it’s this version:
2) Okkervil River, 'A Girl in Port': Once I stood beside Will Sheff at the bar of Union Pool in Brooklyn when I was settling my tab, and when I ran back to my American friends to tell them of this amazing situation – no conversation, no touching, just admiring – they were all like “oh yeah, he lives around the corner, he’s here all the time”. Will, even if you lived just down the road from me and spent every night at D.O.C bar I would still nervously incorrectly enter my pin number on the EFTPOS machine if you were standing beside me. And it’s mainly because of this song, and also because you’re a babe.
3) Ryan Adams, 'Come Pick Me Up': There’s something about country that’s just so damn meaningful and something about Ryan Adams that’s just so damn hot. Two things: 1) why on EARTH did you marry Mandy Moore and THEN invite her onto stage at the concert I saw you at and 2) why, before that concert did I drink half a bottle of gin and proceed to – during moving, contemplative moments like ‘Damn Sam’ - heckle the people beside me because they weren’t dancing, shouting: “Do you even KNOW who Ryan Adams IS?” I’ll take that reflective moment in the window now, thanks.
4) Bright Eyes, 'It's Cool, We Can Still Be Friends': Conor Oberst, you kind of killed the myth when you went and formed a band called Monsters of Folk with M. Ward who - by his association to Zoey Deschanel - SUCKS. However, there’s a 30 second part in this song where every time - although I know how it’s going to end – I think you’re going to quietly shy away from the confrontational nature of this theme. Instead you scull a 40 ounce of whisky, “get real fucken drunk”, and have a good old fashioned harass of your ex. Good on you.
5) The Chills, 'Pink Frost': because for ages I thought this was a really happy song and I’d listen to it drunk and get really excited about partying thinking that Martin Phillips was totally down for this song to be listened to in this way. And then I had a serious listen to the lyrics, wept, and now find it only appropriate to listen to while smoking a cigarette, out of a window, in winter, when something really REALLY awful has happened. And that scenario still doesn't come CLOSE to the depressive depths he must have been in when he wrote this chokesbackthetears track.
- Courtney Sanders
1) Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, 'The Weeping Song'
2) Joy Division, 'Isolation'
3) Radiohead, 'Creep'
4) The Smiths, 'Never Had No One'
But really, if we're honest with ourselves, the best song for looking out windows has got to be
5) 'Somewhere Out There' - the theme song to An American Tail, it's just too lovely. No one is too cool for the tiny cute mouse.
- Alice Smiley
Comments