The Music You Lose
According to an editable ledger I created a few years ago, the next album to be reviewed in this series was to be Jónsi's Go...but when I visited my music shelf, the album was not there. I checked the computer I used in 2010, when I purchased the album, but saw that, though I had ripped Go to the hard drive, I had later erased it to free up space.
I have no idea where my copy of Go has ventured. I have not listened to it in four years. It is not a bad album, but it shares the curse of many a solo album: it reveals what the author adds to their parent band, in Jónsi's case, Sigur Rós, but also reveals what he does not. In this case, apparently, Jónsi is a bit of a wandering faerie in Sigur Rós' vast, majestic, alien soundscapes. However, without the vast, majestic, alien soundscapes, Go just sounded to my ears like the whimsical musings of a wandering faerie. Of course, I might have a different opinion now, but for some reason, I was so indifferent four years ago, I could not be bothered to keep track of my Go copy's location. Anyone who has visited The Nicsperiment's headquarters knows this is a great aberration. I keep all of my albums in alphabetical order, and then keep each respective album by each respective artist in chronological order within that respective section. I do not lose albums.
That last statement is now false. I lost Go, by Jonsi. As I have already mentioned, I don't hate the album. I hate Animal Collective's Meriweather Post Pavilion (and I would probably hate anything else by that band, if it sounds like Meriweather Post Pavilion), but I still have that one on my shelf.
I think the problem is indifference. I think I was more indifferent to Go than to any album I have ever owned. To my ears, Go featured a few songs that were good enough to listen to a few times, but I grew tired of them quickly. The rest resembled something I would put on in the background and never pay attention to. To make matter's worse, I liked, but did not love, Sigur Rós' most recent album at that time, Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust. Yes, that is really the name of the album. Icelandic is weird. Anyway, these situations created a perfect storm of disinterest by which Jonsi's Go was lost forever. Sure, I could just listen to Go on Youtube, download it from a pirate site (as I have already paid U.S. dollars to own it), or just buy it again, but why? If it meant so little to me that I couldn't be bothered to keep track of it, why should I consider it my property? I didn't care enough to keep it. I do not own it. On to the next review. So is life.
Sorry, Jónsi...
I have no idea where my copy of Go has ventured. I have not listened to it in four years. It is not a bad album, but it shares the curse of many a solo album: it reveals what the author adds to their parent band, in Jónsi's case, Sigur Rós, but also reveals what he does not. In this case, apparently, Jónsi is a bit of a wandering faerie in Sigur Rós' vast, majestic, alien soundscapes. However, without the vast, majestic, alien soundscapes, Go just sounded to my ears like the whimsical musings of a wandering faerie. Of course, I might have a different opinion now, but for some reason, I was so indifferent four years ago, I could not be bothered to keep track of my Go copy's location. Anyone who has visited The Nicsperiment's headquarters knows this is a great aberration. I keep all of my albums in alphabetical order, and then keep each respective album by each respective artist in chronological order within that respective section. I do not lose albums.
That last statement is now false. I lost Go, by Jonsi. As I have already mentioned, I don't hate the album. I hate Animal Collective's Meriweather Post Pavilion (and I would probably hate anything else by that band, if it sounds like Meriweather Post Pavilion), but I still have that one on my shelf.
I think the problem is indifference. I think I was more indifferent to Go than to any album I have ever owned. To my ears, Go featured a few songs that were good enough to listen to a few times, but I grew tired of them quickly. The rest resembled something I would put on in the background and never pay attention to. To make matter's worse, I liked, but did not love, Sigur Rós' most recent album at that time, Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust. Yes, that is really the name of the album. Icelandic is weird. Anyway, these situations created a perfect storm of disinterest by which Jonsi's Go was lost forever. Sure, I could just listen to Go on Youtube, download it from a pirate site (as I have already paid U.S. dollars to own it), or just buy it again, but why? If it meant so little to me that I couldn't be bothered to keep track of it, why should I consider it my property? I didn't care enough to keep it. I do not own it. On to the next review. So is life.
Sorry, Jónsi...
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