This Post Contains No Complaints, Dissatisfaction, Anxiety, or Snark
|My new favorite song is a ridiculous thing, "Itchycoo Park," by The Small Faces. Well, it's not my favorite, but I've been a little obsessed with it over the last few days. I found it on an old "History of British Rock" double-lp set I picked up somewhere for about $1.99. I guess the song is pretty famous -- it's got to be on the soundtrack to one of the Austin Powers movies, somewhere -- but if you haven't heard it, it's a simple little story about skipping class and going to the park to, uh, hang out. (And, for the benefit of any students on our site trolling for interpretations of Drayton sonnets, let me say that I would never, ever condone doing anything like that). But what makes it worth while is this great refrain, which is just a single line, repeated over and over:|
"It's all too beautiful"
Which I love. Yes, it is all too beautiful. Despite the end of SAA; despite post-SAA anxiety; despite having had to get back to teaching today; despite a cold snap that seems to be freezing the buds on the trees; despite the stack of papers I should be reading; despite the fact that I'm totally unprepared for my next class and haven't even managed to catch up on sleep from my appalling trip home; despite even the uncomfortable itchyness of the park for which the song is named. (According to Wikipedia, "The 'itchycoo' nickname is attributed to the huge quantity of stinging nettles which grew there and of which both the local children and courting couples fell foul.") Somehow, walking down my street today, I could completely appreciate the perfect, ecstatic, irresponsible little moment the song describes, and that sense that the world is somehow too much. But too much in a good way.
(Oh, ... And in the Renaissance, people liked going to parks too. And stuff).