25 November, 2015
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
I’m sorry to bother you. You’re a busy song in heavy rotation, and I’m just a solitary listener with no idea how to begin. This is the first time I have written directly to a piece of music, and for obvious reasons I am not expecting a reply.
You probably don’t remember me on account of being a non-sentient recording. We met last week at Pie Face in Queen Street Mall: me sitting at the wobbly corridor table; you entering the room via cafe speaker.
I still can feel my posture straightening into meerkat-level alertness at the immediacy of your opening chords. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so instantly on the same wavelength as a piece of music; so sure of what a song was going for and capable of.
I can only describe it as an insatiable longing. As if the one-second-per-second rate at which your notes are delivered somehow isn’t enough. This energy has nowhere to go but the following two words: thank you.
I am addressing this letter to Capitol Records in Los Angeles. If it is accidentally forwarded to your creator, the singer-songwriter Beck Hansen, I apologise for any confusion.
Yours sincerely,
Alastair
3 January, 2016
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
Sorry to bother you again. It’s 2am and you’re still running circles around my mind. For my own sanity I need to unpack why.
It’s not just your impressive length (although at 5+ minutes, you certainly give a lot of mileage) but what you do with it: those tender little flourishes to make every second feel worthwhile. The “oh”s between the lines; the “d-d-d-” before “dreams”. You fit pleasure into spaces other songs cannot.
It’s that glorious multi-layered “here we are” harmony at 3:42 — your finest moment — which I’m secretly convinced you added for me and me alone.
It’s the pauses, too; the comfortable silences we share. I really feel I can simply be myself around you, dancing like a dork in my living room without fear of judgement.
What we have here: it feels mutual. I fully accept I may be projecting. It’s late. I should get to bed.
Sweet dreams, sweet Dreams.
Alastair
5 February, 2016
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
I feel we can be honest with each other by now. Can we please address the elephant in the room?
We need to talk about that little guitar hook at 4:00. It’s a little… showoffy. It brings me back to music lessons as a teenager. This is exactly the kind of thing kids play when they’ve learned the pentatonic scale and want to sound wicked-rad with the distortion on (and oh god, have I been there). It’s not necessary. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone.
I worry this is the music-fan version of some dipshit telling a woman she doesn’t need makeup. And look, if you’re having fun, of course you’re entitled to that. I just have to ask: are you truly doing this for yourself?
You don’t need to answer.
Your friend,
Alastair
6 February, 2016
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
I turned you off when my wife entered the room, and I’m worried about what that means.
If I go radio silent for a while, please know it’s not you. I have a few things to process.
Talk soon,
Alastair
11 July, 2016
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
What a special night that was. Like something, well, out of a dream. I was just thinking it had been a while, and there you were, shimmering in the window of Jet Black Cat Records; an aqua-blue vinyl single I could at last physically hold and cherish.
To hear your stripped-back acapella and instrumental mixes on the b-side… I know you don’t just let everyone hear you like that (I can’t find either track on Spotify). It is a privilege to be worthy of that trust.
That sublime “here we are” was even more beautiful than I imagined underneath it all. And — if you can forgive me for ever suggesting otherwise — I can see the guitar bit at 4:00 part of who you are. Love is about hearing the whole song and accepting the complete package.
I hear you. And I love you.
Your most ardent admirer,
Alastair
15 December, 2016
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
I’m sorry for those Facebook messages last night. Actually, I’m not sure who I could have possibly sent them to. I may owe someone else an apology.
Truly, honestly, I don’t mind that you share a melody with MGMT’s Electric Feel. You never claimed to be original. Maybe you’re a deliberate homage. And what I said about your lyrics; that was out of line. They’re upbeat and unburdened by subtext; exactly what they need to be.
I think we need to take a break. I’m playing you too often. I thought I’d made peace with your showoffy guitar bit at 4:00, but honestly? It’s starting to grate. Again, it’s not you, it’s me.
I’ll be in touch later. Promise.
Alastair
17 January, 2017
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
Just checking in to say I’m thinking of you. It’s a quiet day here. What are you up to?
:-)
Alastair
24 August, 2017
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
The track listing for Beck’s Colors album just dropped. I cannot wait to hear what the track “Dreams (Colors Mix)” entails. The idea that you still have more to offer excites me. I feel we could go on like this our entire lives.
Yours in anticipation,
Alastair
1 October, 2017
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
I’m not angry, just a little confused and disappointed — mainly at myself.
I heard you on Beck’s Colors album. It’s clear now we have different expectations for this. For us.
I don’t mind that you removed the swear word. It’s great, in fact. A sign that you might be open to the idea of bringing children into this.
But why did “d-d-d-dreams” get reduced to “d-d-dreams”? Why are there fewer “oh”s? On some level I get it. If Beck Hansen wants to perform you live, he needs to breathe at some point. But you’ve compromised yourself for him. Stepped down from your angelic cloud. Given yourself up to the realities of human limitations and ageing.
And that beautiful “here we are”; your heart and soul, the second I adored more than all others: gone. Replaced outright with that obnoxious, childish guitar wail. “Dreams” by Beck, we’ve talked about this. You knew this would upset me.
Maybe our priorities were never in sync. It was unfair of me to put you on this pedestal; to mistake a fun summer jam for a lifelong relationship. I committed too hard, too fast, and tried to make you into something you’re not.
You owe me nothing. I just wish we’d had the chance to talk about it beforehand.
I’m sorry.
Alastair
3 February, 2018
Dear “Dreams” by Beck,
It was nice to hear you at Toowong Shopping Centre the other day. I’m sorry it was only your abridged radio edit, but I enjoyed our short catch up all the same. Even that playful guitar wail brought a smile to my face, like an old lover’s snore.
That turbulent time we had: it was beautiful, wild and doomed. But perhaps we could still share something moving forward. Something slower; more comfortable; able to coexist with other loves. I’m ready if you are.
Can we be friends again?
Thank you for your time,
Alastair
6 February, 2019
Dear “Super Cool” by Beck feat. Robyn & The Lonely Island from The Lego Movie 2 soundtrack,
Alastair Craig is half of the Brisbane comedy/filmmaking duo Cheeky Moon. He is feeling much better now.
Cheeky Moon’s new web series IT’S A CULT! is out now on YouTube.