Even then, I only stopped because I was aware that this behavior was what some might call obsessive, and because I knew I could have listened to it on repeat all night and never fallen asleep.
Since then, the song has undoubtedly been my favorite. It's the only one on my iTunes that has registered more than 100 plays (110 at time of writing), and I've certainly heard it many more times than that. I played it often when I worked at TDU; I've probably seen every video on youtube that uses the song; sometimes I'm too impatient to listen to the 6 seconds of silence at the end of the track and rewind to listen to it again before my computer counts the play. Even after all of that, I still have the same strange, painful, beautiful reaction every time I hear Cat Power's voice open the song that I had my sophomore year of college, laying in bed with my laptop.
For those of you who don't know the song (and Hell, even for those of you who do), close your eyes and listen:
The moment I hear her start singing, I feel my internal organs tighten and my muscles melt. I get gooseflesh across my neck and down my arms. My body is at war with itself - it does not know what to do, how to react. It's been almost 5 years since that first "Ooooh" entered my ears for the first time, and my body still cannot figure out how to process the information. I feel sick and nervous and sad and relaxed and in love and joyous and fearful and vulnerable. In the first 7 seconds of the song, I feel most of the emotions that a human being is capable of feeling - and they all come at once.
That physiological and emotional confusion is almost certainly what keeps me coming back to it. I don't know if this sort of visceral reaction is something that many people experience with music; I've never heard anyone talk about experiencing something similar. There are definitely other songs that are capable of putting me back in a specific moment, vividly reigniting memories I didn't realize I had. No other song, however, has had the physical reaction that "I Found a Reason" has on me.
I've tried to figure out why I feel the way I do when I hear it. You can tell in her voice that she is deeply wounded, and holding on to hope is something that is both impossibly difficult and absolutely necessary for her - that is something that resonates with me very much. The simple nature of the piano accompaniment is tragic and beautiful - I love that it doesn't overpower the vocals but provides just enough support to enrich without distracting. I love the lyrics and identify with the sentiment behind them. I love the strange ending - it seems somehow open-ended, like you aren't sure for a second if the song is really done. It's the kind of song that if you saw it performed live, you might not be sure if it's time to clap yet. I know I said I skip the silence at the end from time to time, but those few seconds really allow it to set in.
In the end though, I realized that it's not any of the qualities of the song or its production that make me love it the way I do. In any truly great art, there is something intangible and unnameable. It's what makes me feel wrapped up and comforted by Cat Power's shattered voice on this track; it's what makes me feel calmed and inspired by Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night; it's what makes me feel like I can reach out and give a hug to Charlie in Stephen Chbosky's The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Art should move us - that is what it's created for - and Cat Power's extraordinary work on this track does that to me in a way that few things do.
Having a favorite song is important, I think. It fills you up and makes you feel connected in a way that nothing else can. I hope you all like mine, but more than that, I hope you all find a song that has the same effect on you that "I Found a Reason" has on me.
Jack White talks about his favorite song:
I think I've heard that song more than nearly everyone else, simply because I lived in the room next to you. Definitely an awesome song, sung by Lou Reed or Cat Power.
ReplyDelete