When I hear something so fabricated and perfected on the radio,

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When I hear something so fabricated and perfected on the radio, I want to die. There is such a vacancy of spirit in modern entertainment, when it is all glossed and edited into flawless moments. The human spirit is brought to life as vinyl crackles, tape hisses, and, above all, when My Bloody Valentine distorts what has already been over-distorted. That opening drum and guitar “Only Shallow”, the see-saw rhythm of “Come in Alone”, and the pure blooded passion of “Sometimes” are human to the core. It’s so imperfect that it confirms the elements that make music so meaningful to me. I grow so tired of agreeing and remembering in life. I turn to my record collection to get lost. To get lost in the reds, the greens, and lots and lots and lots of black. To confuse feelings for others and to have feelings of impending death give way to everlasting love. It’s almost Zen; the way My Bloody Valentine let their melodies wander, only to find so much beauty in everything that should be ugly.