Sucking on my TITTYs like you Wanted Me — Or, How YOU can or cannot build up your street cred with a Sofia Coppola soundtrack.

I’m on a coffee break with Oliver-the-Hipster and Skinny-Jean-the-Bisexual. And they’re trying to impress each other by referencing obscure EPs, Jim Jarmusch, Polaroid cameras, I’m Not There and Sofia Coppola soundtracks.

This is a game of cultural literacy that you win by forcing the other player to admit they’ve never heard of the text in question -

Despite all the Hipster trappings, a Sofia Coppola soundtrack is a perfect marriage of mood and music.

Girls by Death in Vegas — The minimal techno aesthetic exploits under stated development and suits the paired down, succinct nature of Coppola’s plot and visual style.

City Girl by Kevin Shields — There are no solid, clear chords — just reverberation — that carries you all the way to the stratosphere and beyond.

Just like Honey by The Jesus and Mary Chain — The perfect companion to any urban environment, play it when your meditating on moments of loneliness or life itself.

Alone in Kyoto by Air — Expresses the feeling of weightlessness you get when you’re in a foreign country; the sense of discovery but also the solitude.

I’ve always remained at a distance to Lost in Translation because the film works like a mystery that slowly reveals itself. I’ve always thought that trying to write a review of it would be like trying to pin down a cloud. Hence why I use similes so often in this post, it’s easier to compare it, than to state what it is. Although I’ve tried to argue that the film is about one thing, lets say Culture Shock, then it quickly retreats and becomes something else -

You know that ecstatic, tender sensation you receive when someone numbs your nipples with ice then gently massages them? If you don’t have a partner willing to touch you in that sensitive area, listen to the Lost in Translation soundtrack. Let it insinuate upon your consciousness like a wave of ecstasy.