Band On The Run

New York I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down

It hadn't been hard to get out of the apartment without suspicion. Nick was busy packing up a suitcase of clothes, and I just called out for the door that I had to run to the studio and I'd see him soon. His goodbye shouted from the bedroom had sounded bewildered, but I didn't linger long enough to be questioned.

Where I was going was a lot further away than the studio. Because it was Maureen, I had to meet her at a restaurant not only on the Upper East Side, but specifically Madison Avenue.

With all the suspicion getting the better of me, I couldn't help but notice that it was all about saving face with her. It wasn't enough to meet for a cup of coffee and have a chat, or even meet at her office. I had to go all the way out to that fancy French restaurant that I last saw her, where no matter how much money I amassed I would always stick out like a sore thumb with my working class background.

Stuck in the typical traffic, I leaned my head against the cold window of the cab, trying to ignore all the finger prints from the tourist poking their fingers at whatever they saw. My headphones were stuffed in my ears and like clockwork, a familiar LCD Soundsystem sound began. I had to squeeze my eyes shut at the barrage of emotions that came with it.

New York, I love you but you're bringing me down. New York, I love you but you're bringing me down. Like rat in a cage, earning minimum wage. New York, I love you but you're bringing me down.

The isolation resonated deep inside of my chest, and I let my eyes flick open and tilted to look out at my beloved streets. Since the moment I'd set foot in the City at eighteen I'd been certain I'd never leave. Yet these days I wasn't quite so sure. It no longer felt like the city I remembered from those first years where all I'd wanted to do was make music, there was too much betrayal these days and ulterior motives.

New York, you're safer and you're wasting my time. Our records all show you were filthy but fine. But they shuttered your stores, when you opened your doors, to the cops who were bored once they ran out of crime.

And yet I couldn't imagine where else in the world I would feel at home anymore. It had always been here for me, even when all the boys had left me alone; I still had New York City and music. It was almost like they went hand in hand when it came to me.

New York, you're perfect, oh, please don't change a thing. Your mild billionaire mayor's now convinced he's a king. So the boring collect, I mean all disrespect, in the neighbourhood bars I once dreamed I would drink.

Right then my cab driver slammed on the brakes violently when he was cut off, and he was instantly half way out the window, yelling obscenities at the sports car in front of us. I couldn't help the slight smile that moved my lips, and I turned my head to watch the streets full of people move past my car.

New York, I love you but you're freaking me out. There's a ton of twist but we're fresh out of shout. Like a death in the hall, that you hear through your walls. New York, I love you but you're freaking me out.

But within that warm feeling about the city, I remembered just who I was going to meet and why, and just that easily the smile fell away. The streets up here were far cleaner than the ones I'd spent the majority of time in. I saw someone busking on the street, people in clean cut suits walking past as quickly as they possibly could. And I wondered what kind of musician I would've become if I hadn't sold enough records on my first album, the sort of musician I would be if I hadn't had Seth.

New York, I love you but you're bringing me down. New York, I love you but you're bringing me down. Like a death of the heart, where do I start? But you're still the one pool where I'd happily drown.