I’ve been listening to The Decemberists a lot these last few days. No particular reason, really, but I started thinking about The Walkmen’s debut in ’02, and that led me down a train of thought to other debuts… ’02 in particular… and one of the greatest first albums by any band ever, regardless of year. Castaways and Cutouts is as much a gem out of time as a timeless classic. “Grace Cathedral Hill” still tugs at my heart, and it sits among all of my Favorite Song lists. “July, July” was a staple of nice-to-meet-you mixes throughout the Idle Time decade. I have fond memories of singing “The Legionnaire’s Lament” on training runs during rainy Golden Gate Park weekends.
I’ve been having some of the most interesting conversations lately about… well, about conversation. About traveling and communicating. Understanding and wanting to be understood. About the architecture of it all, and how brilliant it is to be surrounded by people in places that are both unfamiliar and strangely inviting at the same time.
And as a result, I heard “Here I Dreamt I Was an Architect” very differently this time around…
I may be nothing of a builder, but I continue to dream of the design. I want to see the pieces fit, on paper and in my head. I want the sounds of words and the ballet of gestures to reverberate ceaselessly around me.
But to do that, I need to keep dreaming of being an architect. And I need to keep communicating. Especially with those beautiful, courageous people who want so badly to simply be understood.