Music is rubbish. it’s the soundtrack to your life. That’s why I’m not to sure about Dance music. can a beat provoke so much thought as a lyric. Does a splatter of a synth and computer generated booms and thumps really evoke as much feeling.
Don’t tell me you haven’t sat on the bus with your headphones in lost in thought head pressed against the window ignoring the world around you, focused on each lyric to a tune that you are convinced was wrote exactly for you and how you are feeling at that moment in time. Then you snap out of it and realise you’re a sad bastard who at any moment might start pressing their hand upon the rain splattered window of the number 42 Magic Bus and crying.
Emo is ruining young lives up and down the country as teenagers everywhere tap into their already hormone strewn tipsy turvey personalities and start to express themselves further through torturous lyrics that ‘get them’.
Dropouts and geeks of the world unite over floppy hair, slashed arms and over due homework.
Our bodies are capable of doing some very funny things when they’re consumed by stress, memories and busyness. Let’s take for example when my I-pod was stolen. Some thieving bastard in now the king of the swingers, skanking or chillin whichever you prefer.
I was gutted. I could have lost my fone and front door keys and been locked out for a week with nothing to eat but tuna, and it still wouldn’t have matched the feeling of loss I felt for a credit card sized of metal and hard –drive. (Which incidentally I’d won in the first place, so there’s an element of karma there.)
The point of this blog was trying to make some sense out of my emotional attachment to music and lyrics, whether good or bad. I think I’m just a big geek, off to find the next song I can tap my Dunlops to on the bus home from work, and scribble it down as one of the best songs ever- well in my books anyway, then I’ll try and tell everyone else, and someone sed it sound like a hoe-down, and why were they singing like that and because it didn’t have some anthem-like , sweaty indie club chrousand stuff – they just didn’t ‘get it’.
It’s OK then I’ll save this one just for me.
Chris Carrabba I blame you.