In Held, a track by Fakes, Billie says “This is not a piece of art. This is my life.” What’s the difference?
When John Congleton of The Paper Chase put his ex-girlfriend’s break-up answerphone message on Young Bodies Heal Quickly, You Know, was his relationship with the girl already burnt out, or was he stamping on its embers?
Sunset Rubdown’s song, The Taming Of The Hands That Came Back To Life: “She said my sails are flapping in the wind. I said, Can I use that in a song? She said, I mean the end begins. I said, I know, can I use that too?” Was her reply altered by his artistic request?
What would happen if one subjugated everything to art? What if I revealed some secret things in order to write a great article, and in the process I sacrificed relationships with people I know? Or, what if I spent all my time making the best album in the world, only to emerge and find that the things I had written about were gone?
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