You Already Know How I Feel: 5 Songs We Use Not To Talk Pt. 3

#3 The Karaoke.

(The 1st half of Keep Track of History: The Legend of the Iron Curtain.)_

I had been preparing for this all week. I had been a grunt in the pop-punk trenches, suffering the sweet symphonies of Fallout Boy and Hellogoodbye. I constructed foxholes out of teenage angst and quotes on hot topic shirts; it's hard to find a hater of gooey pop magic in a foxhole (well, actually not really...). Back at the barracks I had begun to elegantly dishevel my hair like a good garage band king, brushed my teeth at least three times a day -- with whitener and Jack Daniels. I made sure that I had even washed my favorite Bon Iver t-shirt in that good smelling detergent. After the washing I would rub some dusty man musk on it, a.k.a. loading to the seams with Burberry Cologne. Why was I doing this, for a hot Russian girl of course? 


Gitte Kendel was going to be at least, based upon her lean, five inches away from me for the next who-ever-knows-how-long, or maybe only one and a half inches if I take that left turn extra sharp. Did I pay attention in physic, yes I did. Gitte was one of the most attractive visual pieces of art that God had made in my lifetime and by god, this diva (meaning MUh!) was going to make a run for it. She had tickets to a concert and I was the headliner.

I was practicing an adsorbent amount of self-tidiness but I was also working on that vocal-reflect-pop voice, it was my dream to start a pop group called, "Real Foxes". Some days I toyed with the idea of calling "Real Fauxs". My car had been the karaoke booth for months and every stoplight got a show until I choked and changed the tunes back to either Otis Redding or Bane. Realistically all I wanted to do was dance around with a corded microphone while doing torso twerks and make sassy hand motions. If this doesn't send up any red flags, then I'll fill in the blanks. I have had a rough time relationally in Cambridge and by the time I had gotten back, I had replaced loneliness with a flaming hot ego.

When you leave the country for a while, your mind goes a little hey-wire and my dream was to be famously sexy. I wanted groupies that just cried out in blood lust after my single sparkly glove; I would toss this glove after every show, or perhaps tear my shirt just so they could get a glimpse of these rockin pecks. I really only had written one song, it was about a dream I had with a hot nurse who enjoyed sunbathing and Campbell's soup. Needless to say the only line I had penned so far was "Hellllloooo Nurse!" followed by a minor chord; chicks love minor chords. Original, I know. 
I had been listening to Bastille, a band from the UK for the past two weeks and felt like that was the direction I wanted to go in. Imagine if Instagram filters had the audio quality of sprinkles and sexy bass licks, that was Bastille but with a British touch. 

I could not hamper my excitement. Gitte said yes to a lunch date and it was time for me to make my pop debut. The location of the concert was my trash littered, white and ugly, softball dented, Toyota Solar that I'm pretty sure was manufactured for retired, single soccer moms. 
Enter the Karaoke!

The Karaoke is a delicate art. Not only are you using someone else's poetry to convey how you are feeling, but you are becoming that artist and that song. It is the very less creepy and graphic version of Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Instead of swinging a chainsaw around, embodying the personality of the person’s face you are currently wearing, you are sonically absorbing and simultaneously discharging that very same power through your vocal chords; hopefully slaying the crowd with your hot torso twerks and corded microphone tricks.

Earlier that day, during Spanish class I had asked Gitte if she had wanted to grab lunch at the local this pastry place. After the words as escaped my lips like a virgins first words, she smiled, nodded and with one sultry accent said, "Why, yes."

YAHTZEE!

After class we walked back to my car, the white lightning stead was parked a good distance away, so it gave me plenty of time to focus on three things: How much I had to pee because I was so nervous, her obsidian hair reflecting it the summer breeze and hopefully this leads to a couple beers. By the time I got done sweating out the 1st and 3rd item on my mind I had popped the door open for her and walked around to my side of the car. I had listened that Ataris song, Your Boyfriend Sucks* a lot as a kid, and she didn't open my door... should have been a red flag. Oh well.


We pulled out into the summer wind; I readied my iPod like a gun and tighten my vocal chords like a helmet. 

And as the Joker said, "Heeeeere ... we ... Go!". 

"Here's a song I want you to listen to, I think you'll really like the band. They are Bastille", I said.

And with a smile she replied, "Oh I love new music! Play it!"  

"I hope you're ready for some pop-punk gooey goodness!", I mashed the play button and the Karaoke had begun.

The trickle of the keys and the fuzz of the mono bass crept their was through my speakers like friends in the doorway caught in mid laugh, I was ready. I started to belt the song as the chorus perfumed out of my stereo speakers, and it was magical.
"You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve”

Gitte was beaming. She placed her hands over her mouth to hide the dimples of her smile and snickered. Whenever we made eye contact it was like the super laser on the Deathstar striking Alderaan, but instead of a thousand voices crying out in pain, it was just my voice booming and crooning. I don't know how I didn't wreck my car because I worse than a drunk driver. I was either looking at the ceiling trying to hit the high notes, steering wheel drumming or focused like a puma on her sunlit smile. By the third chorus she had begun to sing along, it was like two distant star-ships docking after a long flight; two anointing airlocks saying welcome home, be at peace.

Gitte and I played that song over, and over again. We sang to each other for what seemed like hours. It felt safe, it felt right and most of all it bonded us together much better than a beer and cold hook up. The Karaoke is powerful song because it brings us out of our box and transports us into a reality that is not ours, but it still tends to the needs of the present reality around us. The Karaoke is much like cosplaying, or trick-or-treating. It gives us that much needed excuse to be someone else, but yet find it completely excusable to act on our hearts deepest desires. At that time, my desire was to be with her, thus there I was doing the Karaoke.

Even after that famous car ride we listened to that song whenever we were together. For the time that we spent together it became our song and its a fantastic one to have. The song has a beautiful message to it, stating that we are all human, we all have done wrong, but it out those flaws we would not be as beautiful as we are today. Do I ever regret having that Karaoke moment with Gitte? No, not ever. But I now know how power and intense it is to "not speak to someone that way."

Do you have a Karaoke Story? If so email me at Bradyeffler@gmail.com

But there is more to this story. Gitte is the Legend of the Iron Curtain and last chapter of Keeping Track of History. So to get ready for the the next piece here is a song that will lead you in the right "emotive" direction of what is about to happen. Wolves // Phosphorescent.

My name is Brady Effler and I am currently unemployed. That is the truth, but it is also not because I don't want to work, I do. I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma at the end of July 2013, and now I'm fighting the good fight. I am currently going through chemo treatments. From the advisement and orders of my doctor, I am not supposed to be working. Currently I am in the waiting process to receive social security, but that is taking it's time. If you liked what you read, please feel free to donate. I am currently trying to pay off my student loans and other bills (pills, hospital visits, etc...). I'm not going to lie to you, some the donation money will go towards gasoline, or perhaps even a cup of coffee. Anything you give is awesome. Feel free to shoot me an email too if you'd like. I can also make you a gnarly playlist.
Thanks again for reading. I'm not begging, or trying to pull the wool over anyone, just being honest.
- Brady

*The quote from the Ataris song, Your Boyfriend Sucks

"Alright, listen to me. You pull up right where she is, right. You go get out of the car and you lock both doors. You walk over to her, bring her over to the car, take out the keys, put it in the lock, open the door for her, and you let her get in and you close the door. And you walk around to the back of the car and you look through the rear window. If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so you can get in, dump her!" "Just like that!?" "Listen to me Jim(?). If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so you can get in, that means she's a selfish board and only seeing is the tip of the iceberg. You dump her and you dump her fast!"