Ever have a song live in your head? Not just live there, embed itself into your neural patterns. An old song. A resonating song. It generates sympathetic vibrations in your skull. You hear a word, or see a bit of clothing, and the opening chords rise up in your head.
For the last few months, that song has been “Under the Milky Way” by The Church.
I’m ancient. I remember seeing this on MTV. The video haunted me. The song haunted me. Folks call it dream pop but this has a lot more tied to goth rock to me. But the musical history doesn’t really matter in this case. It’s the connections it creates.
That connection – the ability to transmit you to a place only existing in memory – is the core of the story. As I’ve been writing – trying to find the emotional heart of this character who survives by staying under the radar – I’ve been playing this song over and over again.
It’s become part of the story. The characters share an experience with me – Hiding in a basement, watching 120 Minutes on an old tube TV, dreading the outside world and then hearing this song tickle you just behind your heart. Different basements. Different people. Same connection.
That’s what my main character desires – a deeper connection. Tactile. Verbal. Present. Under the milky way tonight.
Biomechanoid Blues 