I like music that makes me think. This can come in two forms: it can be stylistically complex or the lyrics can tell me a story. For this reason, I have an aversion to overtly simplistic pop music. However, sometimes, it is simply a small sound or technique within a song that causes me to hate it.
Such is the case with Lana del Rey. At face value, I would expect to love her music. The beats and instruments are interesting and keep my attention, but her voice immediately turns me off. Someone once described her to me as pop alternative opera, but her voice sounds entirely average to me. Sometimes, she chooses to make it raspy or to over-enunciate consonants. Each song as a whole strikes me as mediocre, and these bad stylistic choices, sometimes just a few bars, make me wince. Listening to her music feels like an incredible waste of time.
Being in a band makes you into an asshole, if you weren’t one already, which you probably were if you’re any sort of serious musician.
Every restaurant is a potential venue. Sure they don’t have a stage or a PA system, but the overworked and overdrawn manager needs to know that an entertainment hall would greatly benefit his business. Taking out a loan to refit the ballroom will pay off in the end, even if you’re currently serving food on paper plates because the business can’t afford new china. I know how you should run your business, nevermind that I still live with my parents and my only assets are an electric guitar and a harmonica, just believe me, man. Continue reading →
If I have heard too much of any song this summer it is “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues” by Elton John. Not because it plays too often on the radio, no, of course not, but rather because I can’t get it out of my head. Someone who was once very close with me friend-broke-up with me (there’s no better way to describe it) and so, like it or not, this song has been speaking to me. Which is really rather absurd, seeing as we were never lovers as the song suggests, and seeing as the song does not accurately capture the distaste I feel for this girl. Perhaps it’s something in the chord progression that speaks to me.
I suppose I should describe friend-breaking-up. Her spiel went something like this: “I just feel like this relationship friendship isn’t working out for me. It’s not you, it’s me. I keep inadvertently feeling hurt or upset whenever you go out with the guys your other friends without me. I guess maybe I’m just too touchy to be your girlfriend friend, but I have to add that I think the fault does rest on your shoulders as well. I feel like you’re not willing to open up emotionally to me the way that I have to you. With that said, while I don’t think we can work as a couple friends, I think we should be just friends colleagues.”
Being told that your friend doesn’t want to have an emotional relationship with you is one thing, but being told she’d like to keep you around to proofread her essays is quite another. This simple distinction is the reason “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues” doesn’t quite fit the feelings I’m feeling right now (ie. why was I friends with someone quite that selfish in the first place?). But it also doesn’t lyrically fit any of the other feelings I’m feeling as well, seeing as its written from the perspective of estranged lovers. I do happen to think the piano has a wonderful tone to it throughout the song, and I suppose I am doomed to always have at least one Elton John song richocheting around my head for the rest of my life. And that is much better to the alternative, namely Iggy Azalea’s false southern accent. Thank god I no longer listen to top 40.
1) Lack of talent. It’s not that I don’t have skills, it’s that they’re not marketable. Sure, I sing and play piano, but so does everyone else, and what makes my singing and playing piano any more memorable? Absolutely nuthin’. Not to mention my songs sound like Elton John’s B-sides meet drunken homeless bluesman.
I have a dilemma, but before I describe it, you need backstory.
I am made of contradictions. The fabric of my being is made of contradictions. I could go all deep on you about this, but I’m going to keep this rant straightforward. For instance, my father is a sport fisherman, but I am allergic to fish. Both of my parents had pilot’s licenses for small aircraft, and yet I had never been in any plane until two months ago. There’s a word for this sort of contradiction, but I’m completely blanking on what it is. Anyway, both of these facts are amusing little throwaway remarks I pull out at parties to make an impression. They’re very near and dear to me.
But perhaps the biggest contradiction of my life is this. I am a penny-pincher, and yet I am a musician. These two descriptions should not go together. If they were a venn diagram, they would look like this: Continue reading →
By the way, guys, I made a huge-ass life decision this week. I have decided on a college. And it’s quite literally across the country, Boston to be exact (why yes, I am trying to put as much distance between myself and my parents as possible). I guess now I have to learn how to spell Massachewtits. So which of the fabulous universities in Boston will I be attending? Northeastern, which I chose specifically so I could not be in Boston. Continue reading →
So I don’t actually avoid procrastination. I’m on a level of my own on this one. Like many other people, I fool myself into thinking that I work better under the pressure of a performance or essay happening the next day. Sometimes it actually pans out. I wrote My Abrupt Descent Into the Cesspit of Humanity in 5 hours one night from 11 to 4 in the morning. It the single best piece of writing I have ever completed. Four hours, lots of caffeine, and no later edits. Sometimes that’s just the way things work. Maybe my brain is washed with panic hormones and is able to churn out a reasonable essay in the dead of night. Continue reading →