I feel like I’m drowning in music today. Actually, I’ve felt like that for the last few days leading up to the release date for The Pale Emperor. It’s a great album and I just keep listening to it on repeat. I’d like to write or… you know, get my head into something different, but I’m just sort of captured in this high of new stuff. I’ve been listening to the songs for about a week already but it doesn’t get old. Plus I just bought two hard-copies as soon as they hit the shelves this morning, one regular ten-track version and one deluxe edition. What people are saying about the acoustic bonus tracks is spot on; they’re fucking fantastic.
This is a perfect example of what I was talking about in that post on spectator sports though… sometimes it sucks to be a fan because you can get absorbed in someone elses work so completely that it’s not really possible to do anything with your own material. Except, of course, to ride out the high until that inner glee settles into something more manageable. The enjoyment I’m getting is frustrating though beause I’ve been writing something new that I’ve been just, well, absolutely fascinated with. Now I can’t seem to stay focused on it. The music, the mythology of blues music, the concepts and the melodies are all swirling around.
One gigantic, chaotic mass of a distraction. I feel like I could be adding to this awesome fucking story, one that was in fact partially inspired by Manson’s new record and its influences, but that was back at the beginning of my mania. Back when I could seperate my fascination with the new music from the other thoughts in my head. When I could still form a coherent thought without veering into the different ways I’m being wowed by the Mephisophles of Los Angeles. I’m sure the single-minded infatuation will pass, but damn.
This is a great album. If you think otherwise… well, you can just bite me 😛 .