Q: Can ANYTHING be a drug?

A. I think so.

For months, I was obsessed with the Shangri-Las. I spent a portion of every day slack-jawed and ecstatic, headphones in ears.

“Maybe”
“Paradise”
“Heaven Only Knows”
“What is Love?”
“Dressed in Black”
and so on and so on and so on.

Each one, a protracted orgasm. Taking you over, gushy-throbby, wave upon wave upon wave upon wave.

Like a waterfall, except instead of water, liquid gold.

Like amniotic fluid: this milky warm thing all around you and you don’t even need to breathe.

Like a night swim when the water’s warmer than the air, and you vow you are never getting out, you are going to tread water for-fucking-ever because that’s how absolutely delicious it is.

There is no way to describe the sublime. Only metaphors: crude tools!

Anyhow. Can you guess how this story ends? Not, sigh, happily.

After awhile, it stopped working. One spring day I found myself walking up Bedford, thinking if only I could EAT this song, or CLIMB INSIDE IT. Jaw clenched, film of cold sweat across my forehead.

It was over. Those songs only reminded me of my withoutness.

You are a sorry, hungry wretch! they told me.

You’re a rachitic orphan begging for peanuts!

You’re a rat with a broken leg!

And so on.

So I had to stop listening to the Shangri-Las. For the time being, at least.

For awhile, I searched the other girl groups for an analogue. I got really into certain songs. “Baby, It’s You.” “Then He Kissed Me.” “Will You Love Me Tomorrow.” “I Wonder.” But they were still just songs. I couldn’t find anything else that was as all-encompassing and operatic. WOULD I NEVER TASTE RAPTURE AGAIN?

Then, one Sunday, I decided to take Lefty’s advice and throw on Pet Sounds. And something happened.

I couldn’t get past “Waiting For the Day.”

I’d always liked that song before, sure. But this was different. I HAD JUST BEEN SERVED A MILKSHAKE MADE OF CRUSHED DIAMONDS. And I lapped it up! I drank it down!

GLUG!
GLUG!
GLUG!

It kept coming and coming and coming, down my gullet, sweet and cold and gritty and smooth, as long as I pushed the Back arrow at the end.

That was weeks and weeks ago and still: so far, so good.

by Pistol Whip | 5 September 2007 | 60's girl groups | Comments