There’s a party in my mind / and I hope it never stops / There’s a party up there all the time / and they’ll party till they drop

I need to come up with a term that describes that orgasmic feeling you get when a song has a section that lifts you up into the heavens.  A part that so deeply touches your soul you can’t help but close your eyes, lean your head back, and smile as this drug washes over you.  The Talking Heads do it for me on this song.  Pay attention at the 2:22 mark when the song shifts and slowly fades to the finish.  I almost can’t control myself.  It’s glorious.  Alex, from A Clockwork Orange, would say, while masturbating to statues of crucified Jesus with Beethoven’s 9th playing in the background, “Oh bliss, bliss and heaven.  Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh.  It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven-metal, or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now.”  Or something like that.  Hey, I didn’t write the line, Burgess wrote it and Kubrick visualized it, but I dig it, man.  I still need a term, though.  One word that sums up this feeling.  How about “songasm”?  I think that may be a thing already.  I’ll have to play around with this for awhile.  Until then, these memories can’t wait.  Don’t let me DJ your ultra-violent ways or this is what you’ll get.