When LCD Soundsystem recorded this album they covered the studio in tin foil and silver fabric. A hearkening back to Warhol’s factory. James Murphy, the frontrunner of the band, hung pieces of the silver fabric to Rick Rubin’s studio when they recorded subsequent albums.
I think about this a lot. I have always wanted to put tin foil all over my walls and then turn a space heater on and see if I felt like I was in a giant microwave. Nothing devious. No harmful intent. Just a little curiosity about what it’s like to be a TV dinner. Just something to do.
I was on the treadmill thinking hard about my potential microwave room when those friendly little thoughts melted into a “dating sucks compilation.”
I kept thinking about each time I told a S.O. that I loved them. I edged it with “I know you don’t want to hear this but….” and they would respond with “Huh” or “You already know I can’t say it back” or the simple but gut-wrenching, “thanks” with the full stop. I felt like they were disappointed that the girl they were dating and spending their time with was falling in love with them.
Brain, take me back to the imaginings of my tin foil hot box.
But brains don’t always focus on what we want. Instead, my gym-time was overrun by these intrusive thoughts about boyfriends and the thick, sweaty apathy that dripped off their arm hairs right at the exact moment I said, “love.”
I just want to cover my walls, my carpet, and my ceiling with aluminum.
Today, I listened to LCD Soundsystem in the car with the windows down and cried.
Maybe I should cover my car in tin foil too.
I thought about the kids in my high school who loved this band. I thought about electronic music in general and how hard it is for me to love it. I just don’t. And I thought about those moments when I felt guilty about loving the person I was dating.
I listened to this album again in my room with the lights off.
I want to talk to someone about all of this.
“Someone Great” is supposedly written about James Murphy’s dead therapist, Dr. Kamen.
I keep trying to do the therapy thing, but they keep breaking up with me too. So, my “someone great” would be my grandma, my Nonni. She died in 2019.
To my Nonni, I would ask: How do I get better at picking people to love? I thought I’d figured it out. How do I find the strength to keep trying these words out? When do I have to try again? Do I have to try again?
She was someone great. She was strong and she was brave. She would have helped me tape tin foil on my walls.
So I sit here and type this out to my anonymous readers who I am grateful for. I am grateful for your compassion and willingness to read and process life together to these bizarre soundtracks.
I want to know about your “someone great” and what you would want to talk to them about.
Also, I want to know if you ever think about taping tin foil all over your walls.
Top songs: Time to Get Away, North American Scum, Someone Great, All My Friends, Sound of Silver, New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down
Thank you…. When I got to the word treadmill in your review, I was thinking omg here’s where Nicolle says she likes to listen to the record at the gym. For a few years, Sound of Silver was top of my list for a trip to the gym. Warm up on the treadmill with Get Innocuous, and weights for the rest. By the time All My Friends started, I was in a workout trance. Listening to the record while driving is a completely different experience and tends to bring introspection and occasional tears. As loved ones pass, someone great also changes meaning. Glad you wrote the Apache article since it led me to this site. Thank you…..