Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

Sunday, 14 February 2010

Do it right in Heuston

Music is a funny thing. In actual fact, its a very funny thing. I can probably say with almost half percent certainty that no other single thing has made as much of an impression of humanity ever. Except for Religion. Or Philosophy. Or Politics. Okay, so there are many other things that cause more of an impression. But music pretty much covers every one of these strange life changing things, and in turn, it can be pretty life changing itself.
My relationship with music has been a pretty tumultuous one, and despite the fact that I am still only 19 years old, I have already developed certain tastes and preferences. For example, I learnt from a young age that I was not a fan of modern or current music. "Oh Shit" I thought, as I suddenly realized that my life in secondary school would be plagued by mockery from my peers. I wasn't a fan of the high pace yammering to "low" and "phat" beats. What would I do? What could I do? The answer lay with my father.

I had not at that time even owned a CD, and decided to rustle through my dad's record collection as a source of inspiration, like a salmon swimming up a stream...in some way. I stumbled across "Led Zepplin III", and was promptly blown away. I went out to the local record shop and bought my very first CD, "Led Zepplin II". I was shocked. Shocked and amazed. And ever since the music in my life has been focused around listening to the "Classic Rock". Now I realize that most of this music can be considered as terrible, terrible, awful dirge by many, but for some reason I like it. Its like a guilty pleasure that I am able to satisfy all the time. I think I have a problem. I know I have a problem, and I don't care. Who says I have to like current music, follow the charts, or make commentary on what is happening today. The world is, and has always been, a rich tapestry, so why should I focus on only one faucet of musical culture, when I have an entire labyrinth of treats ahead of me. I'm like a child in a sweet shop, and I have become obese on obscure music.

I am as my father and mother have raised me, a temple devoted to the ancient people, some of which still play. My very first concert was when I was 16. And who did I go and see? The Who. That's right ladies and gentlemen, the fucking WHO. For my very first band. That just goes to show how devoted I am to the cause.

My sister once told me, when I was young, that every single song, no matter who wrote it, or how it is sung, is about love. It seems like a ridiculous notion, but if you really think, it is completely true. Every song can be boiled down to love, or lack thereof. The are songs about the love of a woman, or a man, unrequited love, love of a country, love of particular theory or ideal, the lack of love for these things. This may or may not be true, but its a romantic notion nonetheless.

I only know one thing however, and that is my deep and undying love for one thing. And no matter what may come or go, my love will be constant. I am of course talking about The Midnight Special. Goodnight ladies and gentlemen.

Sunday, 13 January 2008

Musical interpretation


A new song has permeated through my barriers of taste. I didnt listen to the full song. The intro was suitably forceful in its nature of "lets rock hard and try not to bleed". I can get behind that, I can support something that doesnt want people to die, or that doesnt want people to suffer in an ujust way, or that doesnt increase the franchisement of viking gods.

Believe me when i say I have tried to like metal. I have tried to enjoy 3 minutes of concentrated verbal diarrhea at a volume that could make the teacup im holding weep, followed by another 3 minutes of something exactly the same. I like the old classic because they tend to tell a story about a nations disenheartenment, or some sort of love, or an experience with narcotics. They all paint a picture of sorts, and one that isnt painted primarily with the colours balck and red.

I dont need that sort of pressure, but I salute those who could listen to the music I have discribed. Anyone who can listen to a howler monkey being tortured is alright by me.