Some things are hard to shake. Do you ever say something and immediately regret it, and it kind of becomes one of those things you lay awake at 3am thinking about? I feel like that’s a shared human experience. Sometimes I’ll remember something I did years ago – like how cringeworthy I was as a preteen.
Remember how much of a relief it was to go from middle school to high school and feel like you had a fresh start? I mean, maybe you had some of the same classmates, but all in all, it was a chance to change your image. Sort of. You could almost form a different identity. It’s the same with college. A brand new environment where no one knows that you ate glue in third grade. It’s kinda nice.
Even though we change and evolve, things can still “stick” with us. Whether its bad memories, a dark history, or just embarrassing stories that our moms like to tell at Thanksgiving. You might almost say some things are…magnetic.
Day 5: Ghost Magnetic – David Cook
David Cook launched into the limelight in 2004 when he won American Idol at 24 years old. One of his biggest hits was a cover of “The Time of Your Life,” which was on the Billboard Hot 100 for awhile. He has a very Daughtry-flavored sound and a rocky, gravelly voice (in a good way.) He’s written several soulful ballads about his brother Adam, who passed away from brain cancer (including the heartbreaking “Permanent.”) But Cook’s music tends to err toward anthemic professions of love or angsty declarations of heartbreak. “Ghost Magnetic” is a bit of both. It’s about a lover who can’t shake the memories of a relationship.
Losing light, and closer than I’ve ever been
To paralyzed and covered in your fingerprints
Pulses beating right in time
Motion for a silent night
Holding tight, closer than I’ve ever been
Mm, sexy. The song has a bit of an 80s feel to it, in my mind, with some nice throaty keys and heavy synth. It could easily be an edgy, Journey-esque “Separate Ways” anthem. But Cook gives it some nuance.
I can’t escape
I’m living with the ghost magnetic
Yeah all that I can hear them say
Is I’m the whisper of a dead aesthetic
Yeah all I need to take me home
Is somebody that could save my soul
But I never seem to find my way
From living with the ghost magnetic
There seems to be a lot wrapped up in the chorus. Cook sort of fears fading into oblivion. Without anyone for him to mean something to, is he even relevant anymore? I’m sure a lot of rich and famous people fear this all the time (said with only a bit of sarcasm.) But I think we normal people can relate too. We don’t want to be part of a “dead aesthetic,” or be remembered for what we “used” to do.
I’m baptized every time you say to me
To close my eyes; your touch becomes my everything
Dancin’ ’til we disappear
To voices in the chandeliers
Holding tight to the monster right in front of me
So yes, this is definitely supposed to be about a romantic relationship, as most songs I listen to are (not even sorry.) It paints a picture of a very “needy” relationship – almost to the point of obsession. He is completely aware that his obsession with his partner is a “monster,” but like he said in the chorus, he can’t escape.
The things we “can’t escape” from are not always people. We all have obsessions to varying degrees. I find myself obsessing about what people’s opinions are of me. Am I hip and cool in the eyes of the world? Am I intelligent or arrogant? Am I appreciated or tolerated?
Feelings like these can be “magnetic,” a constant fear of not measuring up, of being too much or too little. Whether it’s a person, place, or thing that’s magnetized to us, we’ve all got em.
Audrey D. DeBoer 