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  • 390 Plays
  • Yours to KeepTeddybears Stockholm

Yours To Keep

- Teddybears Stockholm

Uh…memory lane…love’s shuffle

When I was in high school…circa fifteen, sophomore year, now that I think about it, I listened to this song, on repeat. There’s something about the melody that’s glamorous, without even needing words. The lyrics, and melody combined spawned perfection and obsession, secret teen-crazed dirty little secret: still, to this day, a scene plays in my head: verbatum, the same scene I put together, 5 years ago. I shall illustrate this scene, for those who feel like taking a trip, back to the best time, the time when you were so naive, so new to everything, so surprised, so intigued, you blushed. So, for those who want that, laugh, as you read through, my very own dreamworld: It’s a really pretty girl, genuine in her expression, and an understated style, because she’s to busy meeting fabulous people, going to fabulous places, and being well, fabulous. She does so, of course, without even trying. Please, to bother with something outside of comfort, in the wardrobe dept, is never okay, it’s her glow, that make’s everything on her frame, stunning: she’s natural, jeans are natural: everything else is a manifestation of other people’s influences, and your attempts to live up to their arbitrary “cool code”. Obviously, this girl is uninterested. Anyways, her life is spent, in a car, convertible, perched on the headrest, saturated in color, and happiness. Her chaperone? Her counterpart: equatable in sincerity and character, and just as happy to be on a road, to nowhere, with her…because She’s, His, “Yours To Keep”. I know elaborate, but when your 15, friendless, and can’t get a guy to come near you with 10 foot pole, because of how desperately uncool you are, you find, you have a lot of time, to dream up, only the best of dreams. One day, I’m totally going to have this song, and this life come hand in hand, and I can’t wait. I can’t wait to find that feeling of infinity, of perpetual bliss, and I can’t wait to know, It’s mine, solely, to live with, sans expiration date. 

- M


    • #teddybears
    • #teddybears stockholm
    • #yours to keep
    • #nostalgic
    • #nostalgia
    • #music
    • #love
    • #cool
    • #happy
    • #bliss
    • #we can ride around with the top down
    • #cobrastyle
  • 10 months ago
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  • 40 Plays
  • JosieBlink 182

Josie

- Blink 182

All The Small Things: Blink 182, My One True Love. 

THIS WAS TAKEN FROM MY LATEST COLLABORATION WITH TOM SMITH AND HIS BRAND NEW ZINE, NAMELESS: CLICK HERE AND SPREAD THE WORD, MY LITTLE STACHER’S. 

Today was a good day. It started out, to be perfectly honest, like shit. I guess, that’s when you realize, you’ve grown up a lot: when the little things stop affecting you. It’s a slow process, this whole “maturing” thing. Remember when ice cream or no ice cream dictated your over-all content (or discontent) in a day? Ok, well, I do: even if I was five! I liked my ice cream, back then. I appropriately, also had an unhealthy obsession with anything that resembled, what diabetics fear, SUGAR. It’s true, I was a fiend, from three to thirteen. A fiend  for anything that was sweet and chemically colored/created. I ate so much (I vaguely recall sneaking sugar out of the pantry) when I was little, that my doctor caught me teetering on the edge, falling slowly into a self-inflicted case of diabetes. Yah, I’m gross: I will say, however, I think I ate enough candy to last a lifetime, for I really don’t like it anymore.

Ok, so a little derivative from the topic at hand, but anecdotes of my childhood gluttony seem more than necessary, in a time like this.

To recap: today had the potential to suck some serious d***, but it didn’t. Why? I guess, because ice cream, jealousy-induced banter, out-of-my-control situations, and that naïveté mixed with disappointment you feel, when you discover: some people are truly terrible, inside and out, collectively warrant zero fucks to me (ok, fine, except for ice cream: I would rather die than go sans ice cream). Pardon my french, I’ve put up with a lot of bull shit: it seemed appropriate, given the context. Accordingly, I finally feel like I fell into a good group of friends. Actually, fuck it, I didn’t fall, I chose these friends. I’m proud of these friends. I’m happy with who I surround myself with. I, finally, found motivated individuals, who still want to be kids. I found a bunch more “Madi’s”, I never thought existed. I have fun, healthy fun, my idea of fun. There are few compromises in my plans and zero in my being, to associate with these friends. It’s so cool. I feel, like I always thought I should: I feel normal.

So, the need/want to meet my little brother via these select few (he’s been visiting for the last week), my best friend, Sam, a person, I can say, I’ve wronged more than once, flying across the country, because I needed help: because he cared enough to be some one when I had no one, it’s the 2 AM phone calls from New York City, laced with enthusiasm towards my latest successes and laughter surrounding some dorky stuff I did in the past, it’s the organizational help I traded for  beer and mp3’s, and it’s my co-creator of The Stache, plus fellow hair dying enthusiast and I’s identical looks exchanged over tonight’s sinfully good pizza (steak was a topping, how couldn’t it of been?), that at times is so flattering it’s overwhelming: foreign until now, yet telling of my progress. I feel like, finally, I have my priorities, in line with who I am, deep down. I feel like these are the people I will change the world with.

Thus, it’s only befitting, that today’s music selection, is dedicated to my adolescent idols,Blink 182. Blink’s ability to instill not just nostalgia, but an actual sense of my kid years, clad in fishnets and stud belts, whilst hearing the opening chord’s to Dumpweed, or any of the group’s music, for that matter, well kills me.

Call it weird, dorky, lame, or “uncool”. Fuck, call it what you want, but Blink 182 will always be one of my favorites. Maybe I’m deaf, or something. Maybe I have shitty taste in music. I can tell you this, however; I feel like the same ten-year-old loser, I was back in the day, but the difference, now, is that these “new” friends, all move to turn up the music, when Carousel comes on shuffle. This time around, I feel more like a kid, then I ever got to be, when I actually was one. I’ve crowd surfed, ripped dresses, got caught mid-pee by the owner of the car, said pee was extracted from my body, piss drunk, in front of, with his spot-light equivalent head lights. I’ve found my way, in the pouring rain, from NYC to Connecticut, from the lawn to the pit: from dry to drenched. Blink shows trump any other experiences to date. I’ve made friends, I’ve rekindled old friendships, and I’ve jumped up and down, harder, than ever before, smiling, bigger than I thought imaginable, and screaming, louder than you’d probably ever, want to be in my radius to hear.

I’ve done all this with the likes of Enema of The State, Dude Ranch, and Take Off Your Pants and Jacket (and the rest of the band’s discography) playing in the background. Evidently, Blink 182, well, pop punk, as a genre, for that matter, symbolize the parts of growing up, I pray to god, I never forget.

So what? So, you find my feelings to be over zealous? So…think that. Because, I still feel the same way Mark Hoppus, Tom DeLonge, and Travis Barker did when they wrote about that giddy anxiousness feeling, of something new, on their track, First Date. And you know what? I love it, even now. The day I dread being with someone, and feeling like a kid again, and doing the stuff, I liked/like/and will like from my youth, is the day, I really did sell out. The day I stop wanting to make “this” last forever, is the day, I truly stop being me. Evidently, “me”, I’m beginning to find, can exist, at any age. Blink 182, similarly, can be my favorite band at 8 or 88. Thus, based on my recent apparitions:

The future seems a lot less scary.

I Guess This is Growing Up,

- Madi


    • #blink 182
    • #dude ranch
    • #enema of the state
    • #take off your pants and jacket
    • #josie
    • #growing up
    • #pop punk
    • #punk
    • #friends
    • #funny
    • #laugh
    • #nostalgic
  • 1 year ago
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Hi. My name is Madi.

This is my little contribution to music…no, no, no: this is my contribution to the world: this is a small window (or large, depending, I guess, on how you choose to look at it…) into the bands, shows, and adventures, one girl (aka me, Madi), has, will, and lives to encounter, for, I hope, forever, and ever, and well, ever. This is what I want to be remembered for. This insatiable thirst to write, I hope will lead me on the greatest road to self-discovery: mixing in, appropriately one paramount element, and by this, the fact that I, along with a large majority of the human population, like music, a lot. I, honestly, like it all. I, even, like my routine doses of Portuguese rap, Oh MY GOSH country music, and I even dabble in polka. I think the fact that someone out there likes whatever, the sound/band/genre in question may be, makes it worthy of everyone’s respect, at the least. My mind is open: my tastes are expansive.

I do, however, have a particular special kind of nostalgic, LOVE for the heroes and heroines of punk, rockabilly, ska, and their various offspring, in the whole genre gene pool, within the music industry. Aside from those fine sects of the industry, I was recently told, and am consequently proud to admit that I’m a sucker for “dad rock”. Yes, “Dad rock”, is I guess, a thing, and it made me laugh, and I’m kind of giggling at the term, and my association to it, as I write this. It’s the truth though. It was the beginning to the end for me. The Stones, The Doors, Crosby, Stills and Nash, Dylan, Janis Joplin (I could go on forever), were the sounds that hooked me. I stand by them, proudly now, infinitely. Deborah Harry will always be one of the timeless figures, within the industry, along with Marianne Faithful, that I’ll always, aspire, somewhat, to live life, freely, but gracefully, amidst the bad, even, just like they did. So, yes, be it punk rock, dad rock, garage rock, and/or surf rock…etc, I like it all, old, and of course new.

From my California roots, to my current, Boston dwellings, you, I hope, whoever you are out there reading this, if anyone at all, will find local, and not-so local, old, and not-so old group’s and the first-hand accounts via yours truly of the experiences that come with these groups, here, on this page. So, I invite you; yes you, to join me on my adventures, with but one stipulation, which is, of course, the growth of a mustache (and/or facial hair of any kind), or the development…of a similar, kind of love for the mentioned, to my own. For, there are two things I will always love, and these two things will always make this life worth living, personally: le mustache, and le music. Welcome to The Musicstache, and in the words of the late and great Stevie Ray Vaughn, “If the house is a rockin’, don’t bother knockin’…come on in”.

Your favorite pink-haired and petit lover of all things releasing sound waves into our atmosphere: music,
~Madi

Me, Elsewhere

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