spirit shines
May 9th, 2008 by jamI found a piece of relatively new music that I like! The first half of one track on the last Unkle album is really good. A little melodramatic for my somewhat matured tastes perhaps, and hey a little cliché too. Nevertheless, definitely excellent music.
Aside from that, modern music is a desert that stretches back in time a good decade or so, punctuated by the occasional incredibly rare oasis like this.
The cure went to shit. Faithless have gone to shit. Radiohead have gone to shit. DJ Shadow has gone to shit. Are the chemical brothers still alive? Unkle did one good album, when they got DJ Shadow and Thom Yorke working on the same music. They’ve mostly made fairly mediocre tripe since. These fucking musical twats, they make something good so everyone loves them, so they get a huge head and get all complacent and lazy and self indulgent and make “the music I want to make, don’t care what people want to hear” which is like Nike making perfectly spherical shoes made of lead to stay true to their muse. In this way, good music dies.
In its place, like all things vaguely cultural lately, there seems to be a seething mass of fuck-boring emoism that incites… massive ennui. I guess I’m just getting old. The artists-becoming-self-indulgent-fucks thing has been going on since oog first hit a log with a branch in a steady rhythm and sang about oogina’s hairy triangle. The problem is that now instead of the next bunch of inspired young artists who are desperately poor and desperately trying to figure out what people want to hear and play it we’re getting a bunch of Emo twats.
Which begs the question: If I don’t like the Emo culture, why the fuck am I up at 12:32am on a school night bitching and whining? Why don’t I just get a fucking stupid haircut and cut myself?
Well, probably because I’ve had exactly the same ultra-low maintenance hairdo since I was 19 for the very reason that I detest haircuts in general, stupid haircuts in particular and the kind of chit-chat hairdressers seem to enjoy above all, and that I have a psychological aversion to cutting myself that’s larger than your average Emo boy’s complete psychological profile. Yes I suppose those are valid reasons.
Am I going all danny glover here? Getting too old for this shit? Hmm I think I’m showing my age just invoking that one. Lordy.
Hey I found vodka!
May is always bad. It’s bad every year. I don’t recall there ever being a good May. If fucked shit is going to happen, it happens in May. This year, May started in April, but there isn’t all that much fucked shit. More like a low grade vague burning sensation which is some kind of bastardised hybrid of information overload, transition shock, burnout and not enough sleep.
It’s all happening at work, which is the only thing going on in my life, which like putting all your eggs in one basket then lending the basket to your alcoholic epileptic cousin after he’s had a bottle of kerosene with a twist of lemon and kicking him repeatedly in the testes while waving a strobe light in his face. Right now work is like flying some kind of fighter jet that goes faster than the speed of light; I seem to keep running through mountains and only being able to figure out what happened by looking out the back window at the fast-disappearing wreckage that vanishes behind in my wake. No wait, it’s like trying to climb a mountainside covered in bee’s nests on a summer’s day wearing a gorilla suit that some joker’s poured honey all over. NO! It’s like being stuck in an episode of macgyver where the blu-tac keeps failing.
There are two problems with my blogs. The problem with my personal blog is that people I know personally read it, and the problem with my work blog is that people that I work with might read it one day. These aren’t quite the same problem, and could indeed even be worse if the work people read my personal blog for example. It may be difficult to reconcile my professionally composed persona with the kind of unrestrained effusive brain vomit I’ve become accustomed to inflicting on the poor fucks who stumble on this blog. Usually by typing “teenage tits” into google. Sigh. NOT THE POINT GOOGLE. NO BANANA.
This post has absolutely no point.
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