On Repeat

by phobrla

Is it because I love a song, or because I despise it, that I’ve listened to it 70 times today? Am I trying to purge it from system or unite it with my being? Why do I let myself be drawn into cheesy contemp-Christian music, and why to I blast Ke$ha, creating a nightclub only I’m privy to?

What is it about music, and the increasingly isolated relationship I have with it, that makes mantras from my playlists? Perhaps there is a beauty to repetition; stasis as a freeing agent; change ensnares me, and I don’t like that.

But it’s hackneyed to revel in dated and classless music. And perhaps that’s why I’m putting songs like “Hem of Your Robe” and “We R Who We R”  on repeat: I don’t want to be a part of the Pitchfork process of searching for and pretending to enjoy music I can’t or don’t want to understand. 

Author’s Note:

I’ve not written anything in two months, so I apologize if this makes no sense.