what actually happen?

what i can never forget was the soundtrack to the whole scene; there were always some the doors playing, the occasional bursts of mars volta, more often than not the kooks, something john mayer, ben harper or jack johnson. you would always get jealous when i insist on playing some stereophonics or the libertines or verve; you've always loathed my obsession towards kelly jones and pete doherty and richard ashcroft. we would always sing our hearts out to led zep and oasis and the cure; classics, those. or laugh at each other when we imitate architecture in helsinki or worse, CSS. we would always move our shoulders in the most retarded way upon some the go! team or shitdisco playing. you've always said i can do a mean impersonation of the raveonettes' sharin foo; with my stoic face and monotonic voice. what was funny was the fact that you adore having me sing some rilo kiley, but not anything by jenny lewis and the watson twins. like, hello? they're still jenny lewis' tunes, you egg. i love that we can sing along to jesus and mary chain and primal scream, word by word. i adore how you would immediately pop the bloc party cds into the player when it rains, because you know i love the quiet energy of their tunes. or probably some kings of convenience and the postal service, some iron and wine and m83; those were our music for rainy, mellow days. all the arguments of who's more eccentric between bjork and beck, jamiroquai and moby, regina spektor and imogen heap. or who has better pop; robyn or annie. or who's cooler between karen o and emily haines, because we can't seem to agree on whose music we love more, between metric and yeah yeah yeahs. how you say you love listening to me sing along to lykke li or pj harvey, because i sound exactly like those two. how you hate it when i put on some wolfmother, because you say they're just a poor imitation of ac/dc. i would always fuss when you do that nick cave voice of yours, it was so darn irritating! but i love listening to you singing along to the beach boys and the new york dolls; those were definitely your adorable moments. and when we were so stoned, it was always portishead. beth gibbons is totally the shit. or sigur ros, because heck, they're friggin sigur ros. you would always complain when i put on some trespassers william or mew or mogwai or explosions in the sky or slowdive or cocteau twins; you were always going, iqa, do you really want me to fall asleep while driving? and so i would always revert to the clash or joy division or pulp, because i know that would most certainly wake you up. i would get so amazed that you know the words to bikini kill and le tigre and bratmobile, i would never imagine someone like you to be so riot grrl. and radiohead. damn. you just don't like them, do you? you would never pass out on the chance to thrash talk thom yorke. and you were always going on and on about how i'm never gonna be like alanis morissette. i know that already, you pig. i'm not a wannabe, least of all.

got me ryte? thanks a lot.