Every now and then, I hear a new song and it burrows into that part of my brain that intersects with my soul and I have to listen to it over and over. At this weekend’s wedding, both bride and groom had an absurd amount of musical talent in their extended families, and so everyone from cousin to Grandma serenaded them with these little musical gifts and then we all cried. The Bride’s brother, Spencer,  sang them a Magnetic Fields song, The Book of Love. He was like, pretty good at it, as he is, in fact, a musician by trade. (You can give his band Auditorium a listen Here.) It was one of those arresting song moments that sort of stopped time and lifted every one present slightly above the ground. In a blatant attempt to recapture the moment, I’m going to listen to the Magnetic Fields version about 900 times, and also leave the lyrics here:

The book of love is long and boring No one can lift the damn thing
It’s full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
but I I love it when you read to me and you you can read me anything

The book of love has music in it In fact that’s where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental Some of it is just really dumb but I
I love it when you sing to me and you you can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring and written very long ago
It’s full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes and things we’re all
too young to know but I I love it when you give me things and you

you ought to give me wedding rings I I love it when you give me things
and you you ought to give me wedding rings