Sticks and Strings

I shared an apartment with David the summer after sophomore year. The music he liked, I'd never heard of. In the middle of the summer, he bought the new album by his favorite band, and proceeded to play it over and over. And over. Every day when he came home from work, the first thing David would do was pop the album in the CD player and hit play. I grew to hate the Tindersticks. Hate hate hate them.

Well, David came to town yesterday with an extra ticket for the Tindersticks show. I went, and it was good, and I'm probably going to go buy that very same album and play it over and over. And over. When I get home from school, I'll start by popping it in the CD player and hit play.

It's funny how tastes change over time. I've experienced the shifts in my musical habits almost as a matter of stumbling towards maturity. In college, I was simply not musically mature enough to like the lugubrious Tindersticks sound. It was my good fortune that David's Tindersticks obsession came round for a second chance at my ears now that I'm older, sadder, and wiser.

Of course, I still don't care much for most of the other bands he likes . . .