My Top 1000 Songs #435: People In Cars Don't Face Each Other

[I've been writing up my Top 1000 songs on a daily basis--you can see them all in descending order by hitting the All My Favorite Songs tag.]

Ok, an obscure one here, but this song, from indie folk/electronica act Lovers, dug its hooks into me on first listen, and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. I wrote about the song, and the album it appeared on (2002's long out-of-print Star Lit Sunken Ship) a while back, so you can go check out that write-up. But, in short: "People In Cars Don't Face Each Other" is a beautiful, broken-hearted road-trip travelogue that merges Eno-esue ambience with Cocteau Twins goth into something truly haunting. And I just love the imagery-rich lyrics:

 I drove alone to Buffalo and scratched a heart around your name
    At every rest stop vending machine I passed along the way
    (I’d taken speed for days).
 
    I took pictures from the car window, these colored blurs of time
    And left them for you by the pay phones, because I can’t call or write
    It’s just been too much time.

    The road was without winter glow, just dreary landscape
    And the whimper of the radio and a rubberbanded picture of your face
    Around an old mixtape you’d made.