Marriage Mondays

July 2nd, 2012 § 2 Comments

Frank Zappa:  “I detest ‘love lyrics’.”

“Yes, Frank! I hate love songs too.” They’re lame. “I can’t live, if living means without you…” “Oh, my love, my darling  I’ve hungered for your touch … I need your love  I need your love  God speed your love to me!” “I”m lying alone with my head on the phone, thinking of you til it hurts. I know you hurt too, but what else can we do? …” Geez. Kick me in the head.

Nope, not just generational. I listen to my kids’ music. The same lameness. “I’d catch a grenade for ya Throw my hand on the blade for ya I’d jump in front of a train for ya You know I’d do anything for ya See I would go through all this pain Take a bullet straight through my brain Yes I would die for ya, baby But you won’t do the same.” Bruno, that’s not love; that’s a big fat lie. The same ol’ whinny, sappy, sorry stuff.

The trouble with “love songs” is there’s really very little love in them. It’s all “me, me, me”; “I, I, I”. Then they glorify the “extraordinary” at the expense of the “ordinary”. From our youth, they make us sigh and long for a life not our own. As the years go by, as gravity pulls our “love” down to Earth, we bemoan, “You don’t bring me flowers … anymore.” C’mon. The pinnacle of love can’t be youthful intoxication.

Love goes something like this: “I’d watch an episode of Glee for ya  I’d clean our baby’s pee for ya  I’d jump in line at Macy’s for ya  You know I’d do anything for ya  See I would go through all this pain  Wash the dishes, clean the drain  Yes I die a little each day for ya, baby  And you don’t have to do the same.”

 

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