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If you and I are even remotely close in age, you may have noticed that things that were were controversial and edgy when we were teenagers, are now tame, even stodgy, by today’s standards. “The wildest extreme at seventeen, now it’s a classic.”

This one brings me back to the days of early sampling. It's a melancholy (okay, depressing) non-ballad reminiscent of Quiet Life era Japan, Seventeen Seconds era Cure, or This Mortal Coil.

lyrics

I lose myself
In beautiful things
Does a butterfly die
If you tear off its wings?
It’s not jealousy
In the classical sense

I’m black and blue
Come tickle me pink
The memories smile
Lift me out of the drink
It’s not suffering
In the classical sense

The wildest extreme at seventeen
Now it’s a classic
Can’t blink out the dust in my eyes
I’m half alive
Marooned in traffic

These streets of old
I wander with you
With a hole in my heart
And a rock in my shoe
But I know the way
In the classical sense
In the factual sense

So dress me down
I’m going out of style
But you’re not coming with me
No not by a mile
You were pretty then
You’re beautiful now
You’re beautiful now

The wildest extreme at seventeen
Now it’s a classic
Can’t blink out the dust in my eyes
I’m half alive
Wrapped up in plastic

The throwaway scene at seventeen
Now it’s a classic
Old classmates name-dropping like flies
The facile lies
Bleeding nostalgic.

credits

from The Majesty of Our Broken Past, released September 14, 2018

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Color Theory Huntington Beach, California

Somehow I never outgrew the 80s.

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