No Bubble, Just ROCK!!! Vol. 4

A year ago, Forever Yours purchased Tiger Trap’s eponymous album and concluded that Tiger Trap was the band Pennsylvania punk band Weston was always pining for. And let’s be serious: the idea of a 1990s four-piece all-girl twee-pop band sells itself. The album opens with Rose Melberg punishing us for doubting true love.

Mid-January 2010 rolled around, meaning it was time to use my eMusic coin once again, and because I recently described law schools as federal debt money addicts, I have been appropriately cursed by bumbling onto Melberg’s second mid-1990s group’s first album, It’s Love by the Softies. Here’s a taste of the wistful universe I’ve condemned myself to.

Here's my spatial sequence for the days of the week.

It gets worse. Readers don’t know this but I’m blessed with synesthesia, which mainly manifests itself in spatial sequences I see in my mind’s eye when I think of numbers, time, or sides of cassette tapes. It’s more commonly known as number form synesthesia. I didn’t know I had it until two years ago, overturning an ancient conclusion that I was the only person on earth who saw the world this way. On occasion though, I experience mild sound → color synesthesia, with light blue pleasantly clouding my mind when listening to dream pop such as the Clientele.

I also tend to get addicted to new music—sometimes like love at first sight—and I can listen to a new piece I fancy on repeat for days or weeks at a time until it enters my personal pantheon of awesome.

When I first heard the next track I felt so much light blue I thought eMusic spiked my downloads. The rest of the album teleports me to whatever Melberg or Jen Sbragia are singing about. It’s quite draining, yet I can’t stop!

Well, I’m boned. When I’m out, the album’s in my head, and when I’m home, every few hours I find myself working my way to the directory the Softies are in saying:

No LSTB! Don’t listen to it again! It’ll make you sad! No! Stop! Don’t open those files!! NOOOOOO! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! It’s so beautiful…Aaaaaaaaagh…I hate you.

Damn you Melberg. I am enthralled to your voice and clean guitars, and I hate how you make me feel like a pitiful Title IV-snorting law school.

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