Adoro reler esse texto de 2006. Aí resolvi encarar a música em questão a sério.
It’s September 17, and I have just been unceremoniously dumped by my partner of 17 years. In this moment of true weakness and despair, a song comes on the radio.
“How can I just let you walk away? Just let you leave without a trace? When I stand here taking every breath with you, ooh, ooh. You’re the only one who really knew me at all …”
At this moment, Against All Odds by Phil Collins speaks to me like nothing has spoken to me in my entire life. Reaction is predictable: “Get a grip, man!” pleads my editor. But another friend shares a similarly harrowing experience: “The trouble with breaking up is it seems like every bloody song is about you.” The next few days see similarly revelatory/embarrassing experiences involving Barry Manilow (“Let’s hang on to what we’ve got”) and even the Beatles’ infernal We Can Work it Out. But in the carnage I remember that when I was very young, songs’ words – not tunes – initially got me hooked. I remember being captivated by the stories in songs like Leader of the Pack (death by motorcycle) and Seasons in the Sun (terminal illness), believing that these were real people’s stories. As an adult, I find a strange joy in re-experiencing that feeling and pledge to hold on to it in 2007. Mind you, my girlfriend was absolutely right to dump me. I mean, who’d be saddled with someone who listens to Phil bloody Collins?