Notes from a misspent youth
Music is everywhere now. When I was a kid it was precious. In my early teens I would get pocket money and judiciously (or not) blow it on a vinyl fix. I'd go to the city, an hour or so trip from where I lived, and hang around what I had discovered were the 'cool' record shops. How did I know these were the cool stores? From listening to community radio shows.
My first purchases though, before I got too cool for school, were things like Madonna's 'Like A Virgin' and Duran Duran's 'Seven and the Ragged Tiger'. Madonna's album was bought almost entirely based on its cover. She reminded me of some of my soccer buddies' saucy older sisters: pouty, smouldering, big-haired vixens with exotically Mediterranean surnames. I still sort of like Madonna's music even if I find her pretty hard-going (yeah, because I've spent so much time with her, like that camping trip where she stunk up the tent with her flatulence and sat around reading Arthur Hailey novels the whole time).
Sadly, I still pick up CDs graced by attractive or lascivious looking women. I can't walk past a Holly Valance CD without picking it up as if she will magically come to life before my very eyes in the record shop and walk out with me after I've purchased a budget-priced Todd Rundgren CD. We'd go to a cafe and then get embarrassed because all she's wearing is a silk bomber jacket and undies.
Duran Duran, well, I still like the 'Girls on Film' video, and have utmost respect for their Chic worship.
In case you haven't got the hint, this blog is about music. About how and why I spent so much time and money on it and what it means to me. I've got to the point where I feel the need to appraise this mysterious thing that has so held me in thrall. Sometimes I feel the spell is almost broke, but then I'll hear something truly marvellous that just makes me crank up the speakers and say 'jesus christ' (recently - Little Stevie Wonder 'Castles in the Sand).
I'm sticking to what I've got: my CD and vinyl collection (actually combined collection with my girlfriend). I was going to review everything alphabetically but the prospect of raving about ZZ Top seemed so far away that I decided against it. So, instead, it's going to be pretty much random. If I reviewed what I listened to on a daily basis, at the moment, it'd be a Steely Dan fan site. Though a Nabakovian infused review of 'Aja' probably isn't far away.
I'll try and mix it up. Erudite dissertations on Twin Lizzy's twin-axe attack, deep and passionate moans and groans about Donna Summer and Giorgio Moroder, ill-informed stabs at making sense of Albert Ayler, and a fair amount of Royal Trux genuflecting.
A lot of my record buying was random. If it was suitably cheap and had a good review in a zine (how 90s) I trusted, I gave it a go. One of my favourite records, The Scene Is Now's 'Tonight We Ride' was bought because it had a cool cover (no scantily clad women) and was $5.
Some stuff I've got no idea why. An over-enthused review, hype, a desire for something different, have all led to purchases of questionable merit. That's another reason for this blog, I want to listen to some of the crap taking up valuable vase space in the lounge room.
I don't really care about what's cool anymore. I used to. A lot of things conspire against cool. You get older and you're less inclined to give a crap. All that postmodernist retro digging in the 80s and 90s basically made everything cool to someone at some level. I think we're all past ironic cool. The kids I see wearing Motley Crue revival gear seem reasonably earnest in their devotion. That they've been sold a dud and should be dressing like Diamond Dave and playing gesticulated 9/11th arpeggios with a Romanov twist ala Eddie Van Halen proves the world is indeed an evil and stupid place.
Ok, I promise this won't be a Motley Crue hate site. But, really, is there a dumber band in history? And by band, I include medieval definitions like "merry band of men", not just the modern history of rock definition, and when I say history, I mean in the cosmic Carl Sagan sort of all-encompassing space and time way.
I really can't stand Motley Crue.
My first purchases though, before I got too cool for school, were things like Madonna's 'Like A Virgin' and Duran Duran's 'Seven and the Ragged Tiger'. Madonna's album was bought almost entirely based on its cover. She reminded me of some of my soccer buddies' saucy older sisters: pouty, smouldering, big-haired vixens with exotically Mediterranean surnames. I still sort of like Madonna's music even if I find her pretty hard-going (yeah, because I've spent so much time with her, like that camping trip where she stunk up the tent with her flatulence and sat around reading Arthur Hailey novels the whole time).
Sadly, I still pick up CDs graced by attractive or lascivious looking women. I can't walk past a Holly Valance CD without picking it up as if she will magically come to life before my very eyes in the record shop and walk out with me after I've purchased a budget-priced Todd Rundgren CD. We'd go to a cafe and then get embarrassed because all she's wearing is a silk bomber jacket and undies.
Duran Duran, well, I still like the 'Girls on Film' video, and have utmost respect for their Chic worship.
In case you haven't got the hint, this blog is about music. About how and why I spent so much time and money on it and what it means to me. I've got to the point where I feel the need to appraise this mysterious thing that has so held me in thrall. Sometimes I feel the spell is almost broke, but then I'll hear something truly marvellous that just makes me crank up the speakers and say 'jesus christ' (recently - Little Stevie Wonder 'Castles in the Sand).
I'm sticking to what I've got: my CD and vinyl collection (actually combined collection with my girlfriend). I was going to review everything alphabetically but the prospect of raving about ZZ Top seemed so far away that I decided against it. So, instead, it's going to be pretty much random. If I reviewed what I listened to on a daily basis, at the moment, it'd be a Steely Dan fan site. Though a Nabakovian infused review of 'Aja' probably isn't far away.
I'll try and mix it up. Erudite dissertations on Twin Lizzy's twin-axe attack, deep and passionate moans and groans about Donna Summer and Giorgio Moroder, ill-informed stabs at making sense of Albert Ayler, and a fair amount of Royal Trux genuflecting.
A lot of my record buying was random. If it was suitably cheap and had a good review in a zine (how 90s) I trusted, I gave it a go. One of my favourite records, The Scene Is Now's 'Tonight We Ride' was bought because it had a cool cover (no scantily clad women) and was $5.
Some stuff I've got no idea why. An over-enthused review, hype, a desire for something different, have all led to purchases of questionable merit. That's another reason for this blog, I want to listen to some of the crap taking up valuable vase space in the lounge room.
I don't really care about what's cool anymore. I used to. A lot of things conspire against cool. You get older and you're less inclined to give a crap. All that postmodernist retro digging in the 80s and 90s basically made everything cool to someone at some level. I think we're all past ironic cool. The kids I see wearing Motley Crue revival gear seem reasonably earnest in their devotion. That they've been sold a dud and should be dressing like Diamond Dave and playing gesticulated 9/11th arpeggios with a Romanov twist ala Eddie Van Halen proves the world is indeed an evil and stupid place.
Ok, I promise this won't be a Motley Crue hate site. But, really, is there a dumber band in history? And by band, I include medieval definitions like "merry band of men", not just the modern history of rock definition, and when I say history, I mean in the cosmic Carl Sagan sort of all-encompassing space and time way.
I really can't stand Motley Crue.
posted by Engel at 2:45 PM
1 Comments:
i will buy anything with Sophie ellis-bextor on the cover because...well shes sophie ellis-bextor innit she? why not?
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