Yesterday I bought the album The Suburbs, Arcade Fire and listened to it in its entirety (two times) while I sewed curtains. Sew. Listen. Sew. Pin. Listen. Remove stitches. Pin. Sew. Listen.
The album got in and got stuck and will not leave. Maybe reading Olson has something to do with its persistence--or memories of childhood or talk of the grid or self-aware lyrics (maybe painfully so) or the prettiness of the song about sprawl that made me want to find out more about this album, folks who live in Montreal now, but wanted to write about growing up in the suburbs of Houston.
In finding out about them I found what's below: The Wilderness Downtown--worth the efforts of installing Google Chrome--especially for people who grew up in the capital of grids, Salt Lake City.
I'm a bit haunted by this song and this video and the opportunity to write a postcard to my younger self as it brings up all sorts of stuff--the house that raised me, the city of salt, the people who have come and gone. It's a bit surreal, watching a memory explode with trees while listening to this band's postcard to and from the suburbs.
My Wilderness Downtown
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