You spent five years saying you'd come my way
That's a little more wait than a heart can take
Yeah now that I know it's just a fantasy
I feel a hard time coming around for me
--Indigo Girls, Heartache for Everyone (All That We Let In)
It's a great song--it's pop and it's folk and it's girlly and it, generally, rhymes.
Ok, so maybe all of those characteristics are not what *some people* would consider the factors of good song. But when my sister sent me this song this afternoon, along with the admission that she'd been made to feel guilty about liking the Indigo Girls, it struck a chord.
A similar chord was struck last night on the dance floor. My roommate and I were kickin' it up kitchen style: goofing around, impersonating our friends, 'locking' and making funny faces at the DJs. There was plenty of room: the tunes were downbeat and soulful, great for us hams, but the other folks on the floor seemed to be squirming.
Then I noticed a blonde in heels teeter up to the DJ booth. Instructions were whispered, and the beats took a turn.
Timberlake. Beyonce. Other stuff I recognized from blasting car speakers.
And the crowd goes wild!
The dancefloor soon filled up; my roommate and I decided it was past our respective bedtimes, leaving the gals to bump and grind like puppies in the snow.
And that's just it: they reveled and rolled in the music, following their instincts instead of the music snobs (as my sister and I are known to do).
Even heartache--the drama of a lost love or the struggle in a long-distance relationship--has a sort of misty, historical quality that deserves it's place on the wall of life.
Don't take down your sappy motivational posters when your intellectual friends come over, and don't hide your Indigo, Girls.