Wandering through the cold evening air, slightly tipsy, and alone. I'm so rarely alone these days. I'm listening to the final draft of the Hungry Beat! mix CD, but I'll eventually be thinking much more about Wild Nothing's first record.
I'm on my way to see Wild Nothing play their first Los Angeles show, and before I turn my attention fully to thoughts of the show I would soon experience, I make a note of the sounds of the Revolving Paint Dream encased within my headphones. I look down at the device playing the song, and make another note of the fact that I'm essentially holding the song in my hand, and that it really sounds like the kind of song that should always be held in someone's hand.
Wild Nothing's record Gemini opens with a song called "Live in Dreams," it's exactly the kind of song that you wish you could hold in your hand forever, but like the feeling and time it so perfectly captures, you know it will slip away all too soon.
I mentioned that I was alone that night because I live with someone now. He was already at the Wild Nothing show by the time I started walking as he was playing bass for the opening band. It's an exciting, and endlessly comforting feeling to realize that I'm very likely living with the person that I'll live with for the rest of my life. Still, hearing a song like "Live in Dreams" reminds me of the time when I was wandering around strange cities on my own all of the time, excited, and oddly comforted by the fact that I would probably be alone forever.
"Live in Dreams," is not necessarily the best song on Gemini, but it is the perfect opening to a record such as this one. So rarely does an LP open to reveal so much of the beauty that's in store, yet at the same time leave so much to be discovered.