The Fussy Part
In haunting memory of the tree
That tree is still laying in my yard. All forty feet of its former glory extended across the width of the snow-covered lawn. It’s out of its place, it looks discarded; there’s an aberrancy which surrounds a fallen tree, something intrinsically primal which disturbs you inside. The fact that there’s a hole in the row of trees where it once stood doesn’t help stifle that. When I look out that way, I’m not supposed to see the pavement of the street, the neighbour’s rooftop, or that part of the sky. Those things had been camouflaged for so long you sort of figure you weren’t supposed to see those things, now that you do.
And as I was looking out at the tree yesterday morning, The Fussy Part’s Near You got into my MP3 rotation and began to play. With its haunting tones turning into brash outbursts, its effortless combination of electronic and organic sounds to beget a forlorn atmosphere of want, while piling emotionally stricken vocals on top of that, the song became a eulogy for the fallen pine. “It feels good when I’m near you” chanted Nick Cobham as I could only imagine the thought of that tree being separated from the other titans it was lined up with for years, leaving an irreplaceable hole where it once commandeered the view with others just like it.
I got a call from a neighbour asking me if, once the snow melted, she could come and hack the tree up for firewood for her home. I gazed out at its prickly branches slowly turning brown as she spoke.
MP3: The Fussy Part - Near You
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Comments
March 19th, 2008 | 11:48 am
I have a fallen tree haunting me too, alo. Mine is a birch that got sick two years ago; I knew it was finished, but I couldn’t bear to do anything about it. So this winter, it took its fate into its own hands and the main trunk simply gave way.
Soon enough we’ll clean up, I guess. Just not quite yet.
March 19th, 2008 | 12:56 pm
I can’t but not salute you. Seeing a dying tree every day would drive me completely mad. Mine was a shock, but slow, deliberate, irreversible rotting away? That’s harsh.
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