We Don't Wanna Hear About It

People sure don’t get high like they used to  

Linin’ up around nine like they used to  

Bright nights, marquee lights  

It feels like years  

 

When I was Kid, I thought that it would last forever  

The sun beaten Cleveland Circle kinda weather  

But now I see  

I see the seasons ticking by  

 

Does anyone know what I’ve done?  

It feels like years  

Does anyone know what I’ve done?  

Am I even here?  

Does anyone know what I’ve done with myself?  

 

"We don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t wanna hear about it  

We don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t wanna hear about it"  

 

You just missed Jeff, he left for the west coast  

And Shane and Sam are in a tropical dress code  

Jameson ain’t the same with my ID and my real name  

 

Does anyone know what I’ve done?  

It feels like years  

Does anyone know what I’ve done?  

Am I even here?  

Does anyone know what I’ve done with myself?  

 

"We don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t wanna hear about it  

We don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t wanna hear about it”  

 

Does anyone know what I’ve done?  

It feels like years  

Does anyone know what I’ve done?  

Am I even here?  

Does anyone know what I’ve done with myself?

 

A warm May evening in Boston.  Summer semester off from college.  Stephanie was gone home on break.  I hadn’t written a note of music since February.  I took walks everyday, trying to clear my head.  Try to soak in the sun, try to do something.  I was ready to get better.  I didn’t exactly believe I would though.  

I took a shower late at night; I probably hadn’t showered in an embarrassing amount of days and did it just because I couldn’t stop judging myself.  I guess that’s not a bad reason, but that’s indicative of life then.  While in the shower, I sang “we don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t wanna hear about it” in a high falsetto, probably because I’d been listening to Prince recently.  It was the first idea I’d had in months.  It wasn’t a real song idea or anything, but it was a chorus I could latch onto.   I ran out of the shower to record the falsetto refrain into my phone.  

The mid tempo beat came from my everyday walks.  It was a “walking in the neighborhood” kinda groove, accompanied by this negative sounding chorus, which isn’t exactly a complimentary pairing, but it’s not an opposing pairing either.  Negative feeling people take neighborhood walks too.  

I didn’t really plan out the lyrics.  I just kinda went for it.  When the dust settled, I holding this song that said:  

We used to sit in a circle and pass around the pipe.  But then, much quicker than I thought it would, I was the only one.  People used to lined up around the block at the places I was playing.  Not that I’m saying I had anything to do with it, but imagine pulling up with your guitar to your gig and walking past the hundred-person line and getting in first.  I lived in a world where the sky was indigo, and the sidewalks were lit by streetlamp.  Everything was bright, but there was too much shadow for daytime.  Then I became cooped up in a dusty house, not feeling like I was living in the day or night.  

I’ve always been the youngest.  I’ve always been the kid playing with the adults.  It never occurred to me I wouldn’t have anyone to look up to.  The reservoir by Max’s apartment, where I used to live, was a beautiful escape back then.  Brilliant green and blue against the cool shadowy forest around the reservoir felt like I was in grade school and playing in the woods behind my house.  But then, I was over halfway done with college.  It was winter.  I felt like everything was behind me, and I had no idea what to do with the future as it slipped by.  

I felt like I did something wrong.  I didn’t feel present, like I’d just woken up from a life I’d dreamed and slept through.  All my memories didn’t feel like they added up to me.  I felt like I was missing something, or I was in the wrong place.  And I had no one to talk to about it.  

There’s nothing to cement the feeling of time passing like people leaving.  People you didn’t realize you needed suddenly have been gone for weeks.  You show up to your old memories and its like an amusement park recreation of the moment; a statue to something that once meant a lot.  Growing up changes things.  

There’s kind of this “what the hell am I talking about” element to the song, which I like, because life had this “what the hell am I doing” element to it at the time.  It all seems to obvious now, but at the time, I went to bed every night feeling like I had barely got out of bed.  It sounds like summer, but it feels like winter.  I think all I needed was someone to talk to, but I didn’t know I needed to say anything.  When I think back to the one person I should’ve told all this to, I think of the song I wrote right after “We Don’t Wanna Hear About It.”  That song is called “Stephanie.”