I’ve had the house to myself for almost two weeks now. I’ve never lived alone because of personal security and safety fears/phobias and associated OCD but these last two weeks have actually been glorious. And awful.
I’ve been able to do whatever I liked. Which mostly means tidying up, throwing things out, and keeping everything clean.
But it also meant streaming whatever music I wanted to listen to through the house at any time of day or night. I’ve had an acoustic covers Spotify playlist on repeat for a few weeks but a few days ago, a friend on Instagram introduced me to LP.
And oh my god. All I listen to now is LP, on repeat, at maximum volume. Something in her vocals digs right into my gut and it is stirring up too many memories. Too many feelings. But I can’t turn her off. I can’t stop. Something in her music spins me back a lifetime. And as disconcerting and disarming as it is, I want more. I want more of my old life, more of old me, and more of LP.
Here are two versions of her song Lost On You. When I first heard it, I had a strange sense of déjà vu. Even though I knew I hadn’t heard of her. But I feel her, and now I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know of her. There is no “before LP”.