In the song Poor Boy Blues, performed by Lazy Bill Lucas, a child is represented as being poor, parentless, illiterate, and dumb. It goes on to say things like, “Santa Claus never left one toy”, yet these specific anecdotes are not from Bill Lucas’ personal life. Bill knew his mom and dad, could spell (although his eyesight was fairly bad), got a guitar and Piano on various Christmases and was provided for. So how can his song be the truth? The truth is in the sentiment of the lyrics, not the specifics, and the Blues is a cathartic expression of our ailments, eventually leading us to reality. Not unlike Buddhist teachings in which peace is attained through suffering. To demonstrate what I mean, I, a middle aged, middle class white man, will relate to the truth in Poor Boy Blues’ lyrics.
The first stanza states, “I’m just a poor boy; people, I can’t even write my name - Every letter in the alphabet to me they look the same.” I could read and write since kindergarten, yet I relate to these lyrics whenever I feel as though I don’t measure up in intelligence or eloquence in various situations. This happens every time my car breaks down and I try to explain to my mechanic what happened, and he tries to explain to me what he needs to do. The conversation is so far beyond me that I feel like a poor boy who can’t even spell his name.
The second stanza states, “Mother died when I was a baby; father I never seen – When I think how dumb I am, you know it makes me want to scream.” Both my parents are still alive, but there have been many times in life where I felt alone, where they were not there. Using the car example from earlier, the first time my car broke down (and there were no cell phones) my parents were not there to help me out. I felt helpless and ‘dumb’ in the ways of figuring out this experience. ‘Dumb’ in this instance is likened to a frustration that is so intense that I wanted to scream.
“Ever since I was the age around eleven or twelve - I just been a poor boy; ain’t caught nothing but hell, is the message of the third stanza. Well, I may have caught a little hell at this age, but doesn’t everybody feel a bit oppressed as they enter puberty? Life changes, new experiences are encountered, some are handled poorly and we are called out on them, or ‘catch hell’. It is almost a certainty that I will remember a bad experience more clearly than a good one.
Finally, the last stanza, “When I was a child Santa Claus never left one toy – If you have any mercy, pleace have mercy on poor boy.” Hyperbole is the name of the game here. I never went one Christmas without a gift, but In certainly never got everything I wanted. In my disappointment I play this off as being mistreated, and the gifts I received were not ‘real’ gifts. Man, if you had a life like mine, you’d feel a bit entitled to a hand out too.
While none of the specifics marry up to my true life experience, I am able to relate to each and every line. During this cathartic experience, as I cry for help because my life sucks, I move forward though an uplifting, forward moving rhythm and harmonic progression. It is through reflection of the specifics of these lyrics compared to my own personal life that I find my life isn’t so bad. And, while I can relate, I understand that tough times are common to everybody and I’m currently just feeling sorry for myself. Again, the rhythm and harmonic progression provide the answer to cure my blues, the peaceful, easy forward motion lifts me out of my seat and lets me dance through my ‘strife’.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Boney Mountain
The Holidays have not been kind to me. I had achieved my fighting weight of 185 lbs prior to finals week and then in three short weeks I gained 15 lbs and topped the scales at 200. Not really the weight one wants to be having signed up for a mountain half-marathon north of LA in the Santa Monica Mountains. Holiday food, extra time with the kids, a closed gym and single-digit weather deliberately conspired to drive my weight up… it clearly wasn’t my fault as I couldn’t wake up a little early, don some of my warm workout cloths, and avoid eating entire boxes of Girl Scout Cookies. Enough said, I was signed up for the XTERRA Boney Mountain trail on Saturday January 8th 2010 and had to do it.
Amy and I decided to take a vacation to Pasadena in order to visit one of my groomsmen for our upcoming wedding. We were to leave Wednesday AM and arrive in LA at 10:40 PCT. The plan was to get to Petar’s around lunchtime and get a run in. The best laid plans…. Our flight out of Rochester was delayed because there was ice in the engines. Now I don’t know about other parts of the country, but when weather is bad in Rochester we get up earlier to shovel the driveway, de-ice our cars, warm them up so there is no ice on the engines, etc., We do this to make sure we are at work on time so we don’t screw up everyone else’s schedule. Evidently it does not work this way for the airlines. Consequently, we took off from Rochester two minutes prior to when we were supposed to land in Philadelphia. Needless to say, we missed our connection and the next flight to LA wasn’t leaving for another five and a half hours. (We had already been up since 3:00 AM). Los Angeles had to wait until 5:00 PM PCT to be graced by our presence… just in time for rush hour. No run was happening today.
Thursday morning, the plan was to get a 10ish miler in, so I mapped a route around the Rose Bowl. Sports fan that I’m not, it was quite the spectacle to see Alabaman’s and Texan’s tailgating at 9:00 AM in preparation for the BCS championship. The other surprise was the effect dry, hot weather had on us. Our last long run was 10 miles in 30 degree weather two weeks prior at Mendon Ponds. This acclimation thing was going to be tricky with two days before race-day. Add to this being spoiled to the gills by our host, water retention from electrolyte intake, and great meals weren’t allowing me any weight loss.
Friday was to be an easy 3 – 4 mile day around the Rose Bowl later in the evening, so we went sightseeing. First stop was the Griffith Park Observatory (over by the big HOLLYWOOD sign). There was this neat little hiking trail up a little peak right next to the observatory so Amy and I decided to take a short hike in our sandals up it. It was at least 2 miles up about 500-600 ft in the wrong footwear, and my quads and shins were asking me what I was up to and why, but with stronger language. OK, so after that was finished, we took the short drive to Santa Monica to dip our feet in the Pacific and see where Amy’s Sunday race was being held (the inaugural LA half-marathon). Two walking hours later we watched the sunset… probably too much of a workout for an easy day.
One large meal with fantastic company and few hours of sleep later we were off to Boney Mountain. While waiting for the start of the race we caught up with one of Amy’s old high school classmates who has just run 19 miles to the start of the race to watch (because watching a trail race is so exciting… people start, disappear, and then re-appear anywhere between an hour and a half to 4 hours later). Anyhow, I can’t stop staring at the mountains around me and get that old feeling I used to get at ultras, a healthy combination of fear, excitement, and wonder… but mainly fear. We get our race instructions and are off.
The first two miles consist of a nice gentle dirt road followed by 1.5 miles of screaming paved downhill. I am amazed that my toenails are all still intact. Downhills are my specialty, I negotiate them well and try to take advantage of gravity as much as possible… 200 lbs is in my favor at this point. Fighting the crowds and negotiating single track trail I manage the first three miles at a nice 10 min/mile pace. Then the real race started. Mile 3 – 4 consists of over 6000 feet of climb. My pace drops to 17 minutes for that specific mile, and we haven’t even approached the big mountain yet… it’s going to be a long day.
Upon cresting the first monster at mile 4, runners are greeted with an amazing vista. I hear one lady exclaim, “God Bless America!” and regardless to my feelings on nationalism and deities, I find myself concurring. Technical single track downhill then captures my attention. For the next half-mile I’m enjoying life on this technical section, passing people, getting some rest, and breaking up the muscle usage. There are challenges that are new to me here which rear their head more than once. As opposed to east coast running, there are no skinny deciduous trees to help me up hills or help maintain balance and regulate speed on the downhills. Also, the trail consists of eroded rock silt; it’s like running on fine, slippery sand. Potential for slipping and falling is great. With this is in the back of my mind I tread a little more cautiously than usual and stay safe.
A short steep uphill from mile 4.5 – 5 is a nice walk break from the last half mile of technique. Cresting the hill reveals a one mile screaming downhill; 800 feet of descent to sea level. Unbelievably, I still own all of my toenails. This is a nice double track dirt fire road which allows the field to finally stretch out a bit, and once again my poundage is contributing to good speed. I’m happy, yet there is concern in the back of my head because I’m recalling what was spoken at the beginning of the race, “You want to save 2/3rds of your energy for the second half of the race!”
Yes, the announcement had been referring to miles 6 – 10; 2000 feet of ascent over four miles. At the 6 mile aid station, (one hour into the race and well on pace for a 2:15 finish) the volunteers were offering cliff bars, full bottles of water, and bottle refills of Gatorade, but my fanny-pack bottle is still 2/3rds full and I don’t want a hand held bottle so I grab a cup, down it, and go. Now, I never call a race unfair, I have heard others refer to different courses using that term but I never really understood it. I mean, don’t these people pay attention to the race maps and elevation profiles before they commit to entering these events? On this day I began to understand what my cohorts have been talking about. The race director warned us about this “hill” (Boney Mountain) and discussed the unrelenting ascent, so I was prepared. What he didn’t mention was mile 6 – 6.5 was a gradual ascent, so myself and the runners around me took off at a nice clip, then the fun started! I dropped into ultra mode and started power walking; my stairmaster workouts were paying off. While walking, I passed an older gentleman who was running right about mile 7. Miles 7 – 9 offered no relief on this ascent, but at the 9 mile mark there appeared some steep, technical downhill. I thought it was over… about a third mile later I ran by some search and rescue guys who said, “You’re almost to the top.” WHAT!!! I thought I had already peaked and that the race director had misspoken. No, after ascending 1400 feet in 3 miles, there was a quick descent of 100 feet only to be greeted by 700 more feet of ascent in the next 2/3rds mile… as close to unfair as any course can be!
Two hours into the event and I’m at mile 10! I originally wanted to be done with the whole race in two-hours so now I have to recalculate, 2:30 should be reasonable. Miles 10 – 12 are down, down, down. Once again in my glory I pass folks left and right on this single track bordering cliffs and I manage to get to the 12 mile mark at two hours and 18 minutes! I have just plugged in two 9:00 minute miles… this baby is mine. Did I mention that the course is unfair? I kid of course, but mile twelve starts with a half mile ascent that just kills me, I have already left everything on the course and was thinking I could coast into the finish. My legs are toast, my bottle is empty, and I am reduced to putty. 2:37… 19 minutes to cover 1.1 miles! But I’m happy, I’m done.
It seems crazy to put my body through this torture, but there is something about this trail running thing; being one with nature (even a stone’s throw away from LA), pushing one’s body to the point where there is nothing left in the tank and forging forward regardless, sharing camaraderie with fast and slow runners alike, it’s humbling. I don’t do it for medals (even though I got one) or glory; it’s just something that makes me feel at one with myself and the world around me. Thanks to all around me who support me through all of my passions.
Oh! Did I mention that we staopped at the Biggest Loser Ranch after the race?
Amy and I decided to take a vacation to Pasadena in order to visit one of my groomsmen for our upcoming wedding. We were to leave Wednesday AM and arrive in LA at 10:40 PCT. The plan was to get to Petar’s around lunchtime and get a run in. The best laid plans…. Our flight out of Rochester was delayed because there was ice in the engines. Now I don’t know about other parts of the country, but when weather is bad in Rochester we get up earlier to shovel the driveway, de-ice our cars, warm them up so there is no ice on the engines, etc., We do this to make sure we are at work on time so we don’t screw up everyone else’s schedule. Evidently it does not work this way for the airlines. Consequently, we took off from Rochester two minutes prior to when we were supposed to land in Philadelphia. Needless to say, we missed our connection and the next flight to LA wasn’t leaving for another five and a half hours. (We had already been up since 3:00 AM). Los Angeles had to wait until 5:00 PM PCT to be graced by our presence… just in time for rush hour. No run was happening today.
Thursday morning, the plan was to get a 10ish miler in, so I mapped a route around the Rose Bowl. Sports fan that I’m not, it was quite the spectacle to see Alabaman’s and Texan’s tailgating at 9:00 AM in preparation for the BCS championship. The other surprise was the effect dry, hot weather had on us. Our last long run was 10 miles in 30 degree weather two weeks prior at Mendon Ponds. This acclimation thing was going to be tricky with two days before race-day. Add to this being spoiled to the gills by our host, water retention from electrolyte intake, and great meals weren’t allowing me any weight loss.
Friday was to be an easy 3 – 4 mile day around the Rose Bowl later in the evening, so we went sightseeing. First stop was the Griffith Park Observatory (over by the big HOLLYWOOD sign). There was this neat little hiking trail up a little peak right next to the observatory so Amy and I decided to take a short hike in our sandals up it. It was at least 2 miles up about 500-600 ft in the wrong footwear, and my quads and shins were asking me what I was up to and why, but with stronger language. OK, so after that was finished, we took the short drive to Santa Monica to dip our feet in the Pacific and see where Amy’s Sunday race was being held (the inaugural LA half-marathon). Two walking hours later we watched the sunset… probably too much of a workout for an easy day.
One large meal with fantastic company and few hours of sleep later we were off to Boney Mountain. While waiting for the start of the race we caught up with one of Amy’s old high school classmates who has just run 19 miles to the start of the race to watch (because watching a trail race is so exciting… people start, disappear, and then re-appear anywhere between an hour and a half to 4 hours later). Anyhow, I can’t stop staring at the mountains around me and get that old feeling I used to get at ultras, a healthy combination of fear, excitement, and wonder… but mainly fear. We get our race instructions and are off.
The first two miles consist of a nice gentle dirt road followed by 1.5 miles of screaming paved downhill. I am amazed that my toenails are all still intact. Downhills are my specialty, I negotiate them well and try to take advantage of gravity as much as possible… 200 lbs is in my favor at this point. Fighting the crowds and negotiating single track trail I manage the first three miles at a nice 10 min/mile pace. Then the real race started. Mile 3 – 4 consists of over 6000 feet of climb. My pace drops to 17 minutes for that specific mile, and we haven’t even approached the big mountain yet… it’s going to be a long day.
Upon cresting the first monster at mile 4, runners are greeted with an amazing vista. I hear one lady exclaim, “God Bless America!” and regardless to my feelings on nationalism and deities, I find myself concurring. Technical single track downhill then captures my attention. For the next half-mile I’m enjoying life on this technical section, passing people, getting some rest, and breaking up the muscle usage. There are challenges that are new to me here which rear their head more than once. As opposed to east coast running, there are no skinny deciduous trees to help me up hills or help maintain balance and regulate speed on the downhills. Also, the trail consists of eroded rock silt; it’s like running on fine, slippery sand. Potential for slipping and falling is great. With this is in the back of my mind I tread a little more cautiously than usual and stay safe.
A short steep uphill from mile 4.5 – 5 is a nice walk break from the last half mile of technique. Cresting the hill reveals a one mile screaming downhill; 800 feet of descent to sea level. Unbelievably, I still own all of my toenails. This is a nice double track dirt fire road which allows the field to finally stretch out a bit, and once again my poundage is contributing to good speed. I’m happy, yet there is concern in the back of my head because I’m recalling what was spoken at the beginning of the race, “You want to save 2/3rds of your energy for the second half of the race!”
Yes, the announcement had been referring to miles 6 – 10; 2000 feet of ascent over four miles. At the 6 mile aid station, (one hour into the race and well on pace for a 2:15 finish) the volunteers were offering cliff bars, full bottles of water, and bottle refills of Gatorade, but my fanny-pack bottle is still 2/3rds full and I don’t want a hand held bottle so I grab a cup, down it, and go. Now, I never call a race unfair, I have heard others refer to different courses using that term but I never really understood it. I mean, don’t these people pay attention to the race maps and elevation profiles before they commit to entering these events? On this day I began to understand what my cohorts have been talking about. The race director warned us about this “hill” (Boney Mountain) and discussed the unrelenting ascent, so I was prepared. What he didn’t mention was mile 6 – 6.5 was a gradual ascent, so myself and the runners around me took off at a nice clip, then the fun started! I dropped into ultra mode and started power walking; my stairmaster workouts were paying off. While walking, I passed an older gentleman who was running right about mile 7. Miles 7 – 9 offered no relief on this ascent, but at the 9 mile mark there appeared some steep, technical downhill. I thought it was over… about a third mile later I ran by some search and rescue guys who said, “You’re almost to the top.” WHAT!!! I thought I had already peaked and that the race director had misspoken. No, after ascending 1400 feet in 3 miles, there was a quick descent of 100 feet only to be greeted by 700 more feet of ascent in the next 2/3rds mile… as close to unfair as any course can be!
Two hours into the event and I’m at mile 10! I originally wanted to be done with the whole race in two-hours so now I have to recalculate, 2:30 should be reasonable. Miles 10 – 12 are down, down, down. Once again in my glory I pass folks left and right on this single track bordering cliffs and I manage to get to the 12 mile mark at two hours and 18 minutes! I have just plugged in two 9:00 minute miles… this baby is mine. Did I mention that the course is unfair? I kid of course, but mile twelve starts with a half mile ascent that just kills me, I have already left everything on the course and was thinking I could coast into the finish. My legs are toast, my bottle is empty, and I am reduced to putty. 2:37… 19 minutes to cover 1.1 miles! But I’m happy, I’m done.
It seems crazy to put my body through this torture, but there is something about this trail running thing; being one with nature (even a stone’s throw away from LA), pushing one’s body to the point where there is nothing left in the tank and forging forward regardless, sharing camaraderie with fast and slow runners alike, it’s humbling. I don’t do it for medals (even though I got one) or glory; it’s just something that makes me feel at one with myself and the world around me. Thanks to all around me who support me through all of my passions.Oh! Did I mention that we staopped at the Biggest Loser Ranch after the race?
Sunday, January 3, 2010
What Happened to me: Popular Music
What happened? I used to think that I was hip to the latest, greatest music. I danced and drank at all of the “alternative” nightclubs in Rochester, NY and always knew when the lesser known acts would be coming into town from Vancouver, New York, LA, Austin, and Nashville. For example, I saw Pearl Jam before they released ‘Ten’, and I caught the Chili Peppers and Fishbone for next to nothing at a tiny nightclub in Ithaca before they ran up a $25 ticket for the Auditorium Theater in Rochester. ($25 was a pretty big ticket then). Bands like New Model Army, Harm Farm, The Authority, and regional standout Yolk, were tearing up the circuit in the late eighties and early nineties, and I was on the case.
So why am I now playing the blues, and classical music, and belaboring the inadequacies of today’s popular music to my oldest daughter? Paramore, Daughtry, and The Black Eyed Peas just don’t seem to cut it for me. I find myself disgusted at the sensation of Lady Gaga, not because of her strange exploits on stage, but because it has all been done before (even though no one acknowledges this). She is a postmodern collage rip-off of David Bowie, GWAR, Tiny Tim, Kiss, Siouxsie Sioux, and Laurie Anderson. Maybe I’m bitter at the fact that while Kiss and Bowie met some measure of large-scale success, it bothers me that lady Gaga is more popular than the other previously mentioned artists, without having the musical talent to justify it.
Schtick, it has become more important than the music. There was a time when schtick, or oddity was used to capture the attention of the listener so the artist’s music could then be heard, but now it seems that schtick is an end to itself. Why bother even plugging in the amplifiers, no one cares what you sound like. At this point I hesitate to mention that I now sound like my parents did in the 1980’s. They had no care for the stylings of The Clash or even Rush. This makes me wonder if maybe I’m missing something in today’s music the way my parents missed what I heard in the music of my youth.
Is there something to the Jonas Brothers that will have them revered as high popular art twenty years from now the way Zappa and King Crimson are in certain academic circles? I don’t think so. Nor does Lady Gaga, nor Rhianna have that extra something that will make a difference. I say this given the history of popular music and the difference between what was popular in the day and what is regarded as art now. In the 80s and 90s, few of the super gold record stadium rockers are currently revered. King Crimson, Laurie Anderson, Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground, Frank Zappa, and Jethro Tull are among the examples of ‘pop’ music of the eighties now being researched academically, not Poison, Def Leppard, nor even Duran Duran (although I might make an exception for the latter as I have my opinion on how they expanded the rhetoric of New Wave using modernist techniques). Using this historical data, which contemporary pop composers can we predict will be academic fodder twenty years from now?
My money is on Radiohead. There are three large reasons for mentioning them. First, they have revolutionized the music industry. With each advance in technology; the invention of radio, and the phonograph, there have been geniuses who have utilized the tools and created the model in which all others will follow. Marketing geniuses that are academic benchmarks in this area include George Lucas, The Beatles, and Michael Jackson. The music industry has been in a state of confusion since the dawning of the internet and it is has been Radiohead that have made the greatest advances in using this tool. Second, their music is informed by popular and classical techniques used before them. They developed their own progressive musical language theoretically using Wagnerian tonal language while employing Babbit’s and Reich’s electronic and phasing techniques, and pop hooks. Finally, they are already being studied in academic circles. They are noteworthy because not only do they have the marketing sense, but the musical authority to be mentioned from this point forward.
Unfortunately, because I have become so jaded about the popular music industry, I cannot name another contemporary band or person whom I think will be studied in the future (with the possible exception of Beck). In my retreating to music that comforts me, (which is odd because most of it was composed to challenge the listener and be uncomfortable), I have not stayed current in my discovery of new music, popular or serious. As a result, I am afraid. Why, because my daughter who listens to Paramore, doesn’t know who Radiohead is, and because I don’t know if there is anymore new, valid music being made. I’m afraid that in the age of ‘Reality TV’ being famous for being famous is more important than being famous for accomplishing something. Is schtick all there is anymore?
I also see this trend not just geared toward music marketed to our youth. With regard to popular music geared toward us older folks, I see a similar phenomenon. It isn’t the music that matters, it’s the scene. And while the scene has been an important part of live music since the 50s, it now seems to overshadow the music. Go to a Phish show, an Allman Brothers Concert, a ‘Music and Arts festival’ or any of the Pixies’ reunion shows and see how many in attendance are aware of the music vs. how many are there to merchandise (hippy paraphernalia, drugs, t-shirts, concessions), there to get high on chemicals, or there to be seen and brag that they were there. It is as if the music has become meaningless in a sea of cultural capitalism/addiction/narcissism. Is this what people really want? Is this what we chose?
Maybe I’m a curmudgeon, but I long for the days when good music was good enough. Being that the current state of radio is still corrupt, and that the internet is too big to be useful in finding good music, I am pleading for input on good music that is current. Leave me a comment, who, and what should I listen to, and why?
So why am I now playing the blues, and classical music, and belaboring the inadequacies of today’s popular music to my oldest daughter? Paramore, Daughtry, and The Black Eyed Peas just don’t seem to cut it for me. I find myself disgusted at the sensation of Lady Gaga, not because of her strange exploits on stage, but because it has all been done before (even though no one acknowledges this). She is a postmodern collage rip-off of David Bowie, GWAR, Tiny Tim, Kiss, Siouxsie Sioux, and Laurie Anderson. Maybe I’m bitter at the fact that while Kiss and Bowie met some measure of large-scale success, it bothers me that lady Gaga is more popular than the other previously mentioned artists, without having the musical talent to justify it.
Schtick, it has become more important than the music. There was a time when schtick, or oddity was used to capture the attention of the listener so the artist’s music could then be heard, but now it seems that schtick is an end to itself. Why bother even plugging in the amplifiers, no one cares what you sound like. At this point I hesitate to mention that I now sound like my parents did in the 1980’s. They had no care for the stylings of The Clash or even Rush. This makes me wonder if maybe I’m missing something in today’s music the way my parents missed what I heard in the music of my youth.
Is there something to the Jonas Brothers that will have them revered as high popular art twenty years from now the way Zappa and King Crimson are in certain academic circles? I don’t think so. Nor does Lady Gaga, nor Rhianna have that extra something that will make a difference. I say this given the history of popular music and the difference between what was popular in the day and what is regarded as art now. In the 80s and 90s, few of the super gold record stadium rockers are currently revered. King Crimson, Laurie Anderson, Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground, Frank Zappa, and Jethro Tull are among the examples of ‘pop’ music of the eighties now being researched academically, not Poison, Def Leppard, nor even Duran Duran (although I might make an exception for the latter as I have my opinion on how they expanded the rhetoric of New Wave using modernist techniques). Using this historical data, which contemporary pop composers can we predict will be academic fodder twenty years from now?
My money is on Radiohead. There are three large reasons for mentioning them. First, they have revolutionized the music industry. With each advance in technology; the invention of radio, and the phonograph, there have been geniuses who have utilized the tools and created the model in which all others will follow. Marketing geniuses that are academic benchmarks in this area include George Lucas, The Beatles, and Michael Jackson. The music industry has been in a state of confusion since the dawning of the internet and it is has been Radiohead that have made the greatest advances in using this tool. Second, their music is informed by popular and classical techniques used before them. They developed their own progressive musical language theoretically using Wagnerian tonal language while employing Babbit’s and Reich’s electronic and phasing techniques, and pop hooks. Finally, they are already being studied in academic circles. They are noteworthy because not only do they have the marketing sense, but the musical authority to be mentioned from this point forward.
Unfortunately, because I have become so jaded about the popular music industry, I cannot name another contemporary band or person whom I think will be studied in the future (with the possible exception of Beck). In my retreating to music that comforts me, (which is odd because most of it was composed to challenge the listener and be uncomfortable), I have not stayed current in my discovery of new music, popular or serious. As a result, I am afraid. Why, because my daughter who listens to Paramore, doesn’t know who Radiohead is, and because I don’t know if there is anymore new, valid music being made. I’m afraid that in the age of ‘Reality TV’ being famous for being famous is more important than being famous for accomplishing something. Is schtick all there is anymore?
I also see this trend not just geared toward music marketed to our youth. With regard to popular music geared toward us older folks, I see a similar phenomenon. It isn’t the music that matters, it’s the scene. And while the scene has been an important part of live music since the 50s, it now seems to overshadow the music. Go to a Phish show, an Allman Brothers Concert, a ‘Music and Arts festival’ or any of the Pixies’ reunion shows and see how many in attendance are aware of the music vs. how many are there to merchandise (hippy paraphernalia, drugs, t-shirts, concessions), there to get high on chemicals, or there to be seen and brag that they were there. It is as if the music has become meaningless in a sea of cultural capitalism/addiction/narcissism. Is this what people really want? Is this what we chose?
Maybe I’m a curmudgeon, but I long for the days when good music was good enough. Being that the current state of radio is still corrupt, and that the internet is too big to be useful in finding good music, I am pleading for input on good music that is current. Leave me a comment, who, and what should I listen to, and why?
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Resolution 2010
I am going to write. This is my only specific resolution for this year. I have general resolutions about being a better father, friend and husband, and I will hold to those resolutions. But, writing is the sticking point in my academic and professional future, so I resolve to write something every week.
As the result of writing and struggling through a number of sizeable term papers over the past two semesters, it is clear that I need to learn how to write better. Dr. Carl Wiens, head of the Music Theory and Music History program at Nazareth College, and I had a nice talk recently about academic writing and research. After he made my term paper for his class bleed red with comments and corrections I asked for direction on how to be a better writer. Two big suggestions were thrown at me: 1. Read A LOT of good writing, look at blogs, journalism, academic writing, and get a sense for what works and what doesn’t. 2. Write A LOT, criticism, research, stories… create a blog.
This blog is not going to be on any subject in particular. Most likely it will have a number of subjects and sub-subjects ranging from music to family to politics to spirituality to running, anything goes. Also, I intend to make some of this subjective and some of it objective. Hopefully I can accomplish a few things: explore subjects that matter to me at a deeper level; learn how to write without being a narcissist; and further my career potential.
Furthermore, I am encouraging comments. Please share what you will. Criticize my writing style, comment on my subject matter, agree or disagree with my positions (on subjective positions), contribute facts… all of this will help me grow.
As the result of writing and struggling through a number of sizeable term papers over the past two semesters, it is clear that I need to learn how to write better. Dr. Carl Wiens, head of the Music Theory and Music History program at Nazareth College, and I had a nice talk recently about academic writing and research. After he made my term paper for his class bleed red with comments and corrections I asked for direction on how to be a better writer. Two big suggestions were thrown at me: 1. Read A LOT of good writing, look at blogs, journalism, academic writing, and get a sense for what works and what doesn’t. 2. Write A LOT, criticism, research, stories… create a blog.
This blog is not going to be on any subject in particular. Most likely it will have a number of subjects and sub-subjects ranging from music to family to politics to spirituality to running, anything goes. Also, I intend to make some of this subjective and some of it objective. Hopefully I can accomplish a few things: explore subjects that matter to me at a deeper level; learn how to write without being a narcissist; and further my career potential.
Furthermore, I am encouraging comments. Please share what you will. Criticize my writing style, comment on my subject matter, agree or disagree with my positions (on subjective positions), contribute facts… all of this will help me grow.
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