Don’t Make Me Sing

February 17th, 2020

Every time I see a show, I’m reminded that I used to make music, and that I miss it sometimes.


If you don’t know, I started making music as The Next Step back in 2003. I started with EPs and sporadic song releases, until I released my first full-length, “Something Old, Something New,” in 2005. I released two more albums each subsequent year, in 2006 and 2007; “Love & Fear” and “Honesty & Happiness,” respectfully. I had concrete plans for another album (or two), but they sank.


Writing has always been my life. I found an outlet to write with music, but when doing music became too much, I withdrew.


Which is why I think I have such a complicated, intense relationship with music; this isn’t the point of my post, but I digress.


We saw Motion City Soundtrack on Saturday, and they’re a band that always remind me of my own. I was watching interviews with Justin Pierre the next morning, and he talked about looking back at the songs he wrote; he could differentiate the times in his life when he wrote them, especially in relation to when he was drunk or sober. Looking back at my own work, I see exactly what he’s talking about.


This song from 2007 particularly hurts. It’s called “Second Drink,” and the lyrics break my heart, and it is the closest thing I have seen from myself as an open cry for help if there ever was one. It goes like this.


I have a heartache
But you have my drug
A twelve-pack or bouquet of forget-me-nots
Our memories are so overrated
Our enemies are so underestimated


Sometimes those nights are a little more apparent
Sometimes I wish I didn’t feel so alone
Sometimes at night you’re a little more transparent
But sometimes you make me feel a little less alone


I have a heartache
But you have my drug
A liter we can sweep under the rug
Our memories are so frustrated
Our enemies are so overestimated


Sometimes those nights are a little more apparent
Sometimes I wish I didn’t feel so alone
Sometimes at night you’re a little more transparent
But sometimes you make me feel a little less alone


I can’t look at these without being transported and trapped inside that boy. It’s awful.


And I feel like I need to get back on a stage and take these words back.

Published by dennisvogen

I'm me, of course. Or am I?

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