'cause I can't put to bed these phobias and fears.
I’m new to this grief I can’t explain,
but I’m no stranger to the heartache and the pain.
The fire I began is burning me alive,
but I know better than to leave and let it die.
I’m a silhouette asking every now and then,
“Is it over yet? Will I ever feel again?”
I’m a silhouette chasing rainbows on my own,
but the more I try to move on, the more I feel alone…
So I watch the summer stars to lead me home.
I’m sick of the past I can’t erase;
a jumble of footprints and hasty steps I can’t retrace.
The mountain of things I still regret
is a vile reminder that I would rather just forget.
“‘The Midsummer Station’ is just imagery. It really doesn’t mean anything. It’s the same as the band name. It’s like ‘Where does your mind go?’ Like ‘Where am I?’ What I think about when I think about the name. It’s like an escape.”
If you just looked at the title of my post and said, “Who is that?”
Well first off, le *GASP* that you don’t know him.
And second, he is Owl City.
Okay, so we’re past introductions.
This man, gosh, this man…he is…incredible, in so many ways.
His music is a definition within itself; abstract concepts beautifully woven together with synth beats, guitar chords, and vibes that, even in his most pessimistic songs, never fail to put a smile on your face. The innocence of his lyrics (he calls a girl “foxy” in Bombshell Blonde, makes my life xD) as well as the structure of the instrumental composition just fits together like puzzle pieces to create amazing works of art.
Even the album covers…individuality at its finest.
Not only does Mr. Young exhibit musical genius on all five albums that have been released, his personality is sincere; he is one of a kind. I read his blog posts about specific moments in his life, and I feel like I know him. I read one just now about an instance where he saw someone who he used to love…and the description of it…was so vivid that I felt like I was there, experiencing what he was; the feelings, the heartache, the awkwardness, everything.
Maybe I feel this way because I can relate to a bunch of his posts and songs, but regardless, if by some cosmic form of fate that you read this, thank you Mr. Young for being such an inspiration to me. I know, I’m one person who is just feeling a void on the internet, but truly, you have helped me through some tough situations, even right now. I know that you guide so many others into viewing the world through your perspective; a view guided by light and an innocence that is so hard to find these days.
Thank you, Adam Young, for creating Owl City and Sky Sailing, for making music that can take listeners into a dream…a bright and colorful world without the reality that we all have to face on a daily basis. It’s nice to get away sometimes, and your music is the north star on our compasses. You are my biggest inspiration and you have taught me so much.
Last week I said goodbye to someone I care about.
It wasn’t “goodbye forever” per se, but that didn’t matter because this was the sort of goodbye that produces dull, persistent, throbbing heartache, the kind that takes a long time to heal. It was the close of a long chapter of life, the kind of conclusion that keeps you awake for days, pacing the house with the lights out and the phone off. This particular sad farewell left a hole in my chest and a bittersweet taste in my mouth, as saying goodbye has a way of doing. It tasted like past romance, a bouquet of indelible memories laced with lost love and confused emotions, the flowery passion and affection of two starry-eyed dreamers, tangled up in the ribbons of a faded fairy tale.
The thing I like most about creativity is that there are no right or wrong answers. I like how the same piece of music can sound beautiful to one person and ugly and uninspired to another because it all revolves around a frame of reference. The title of this entry is rather a pretentious quip because you don’t think about listening to music while you’re listen to it, you just feel it and maybe you can’t even explain why. I like that.
Should a man see only popularity, he becomes a mirror, reflecting whatever needs to be reflected to gain acceptance. He is everyone and no one.
Should a man see only power, he becomes a wolf — prowling, hunting and stalking the elusive game. Recognition is his prey and people are his prizes. His quest is endless. As a result, he who sees only power is degraded to an animal, an insatiable scavenger, controlled not by a will from within, but by luring from without.