my new neighbours, daft lads, are currently blasting hip hop through the bedroom wall. This must surely lead to deafness. I SAID DEAFNESS, DEAFNESS!!! See what I mean? Sometimes cars go by my house with the bass so deep that windows fall out one after another cos the putty's gone, long gone, we are talking disintegrated . Teeth, innards, eyeballs, even small children can be displaced. A similar effect as on those bellies road workers have shimmering atop pneumatic drills. Animals 50 kilometers away stop what they're doing and look up, especially the dogs who always think they know the tune. Fucking dogs, don't know their Eminem from their Elgar as they associate all vibration with the opening of a can. I saw a programme recently where these blokes had fixed into their cars or vans enormous speakers, woofers 3ft in diameter and shrill little tweeters that reach right under your fillings. Great heaving sound systems encased in auto steel. I think the US death industry's missing a trick here. "The prisoner shall be taken to a place where his insides be mashed by a wicked tune of the Judge's choice." A cruel and unusual punishment if the fuckwit decides on Jennifer Warnes giving her all in some vomiting power ballad, or maybe Celine Dion. You can predict the final words of any decent person under those circumstances "Pull the switch, pull the fucking switch now!" The rightwing would get pleasure from such a thing because they have cold cold hearts.
A study has been done on the correlation between Country and Western music and suicide. More people top themselves to Country and Western than any other musical form. A professor describes one song that summed up the misery that is Country and Western. A guy falls for a girl but weds someone else, all his life he suffers the pain of unrequited love until becoming so overwhelmed he shoots himself with a shotgun in the head. Unbeknownst to him the real love interest has always felt the same and comes looking. She finds his body just after he's shot himself, devastated she takes up the same gun and shoots herself. It seems many fools commit suicide to that song. Laugh, I nearly choked.
3 comments:
Ah, that's sweet. Yo, yo just got it's final rejection from one last agent, which makes it all a bit depressing, but I have an agent in the UK helping me out with my visa who's interested in the blog which is good news... you're not so dumb yourself young Dan. If you ever make it to Canada get the bus to NY and we'll go out on the piss mate!
I see mimi in ny has commented here, Dan. That’s how I got here to your blog. I read through mimi in ny’s since her poignant article in the VillageVoice online, and she has a link to here, there. But I’ll tell ya’, I like both kinds of music, Country, and Western. It all takes me back. That’s what it’s supposed to do. Take one back. Years ago in San Jose’, when I was a’pine-in’ away for love, I had an after-closing-time night job cleaning and waxing the vat floors in a gigantic one story department store, and it might even have been a Wal-Mart, but I don’t think those behemoths were around quite yet in those days, anyway, but, the guy I worked with all night , the first thing he’d do is go in to the TV and electronics area, and tune every radio on to the country&western station he felt most in vibe with that night; and he turned them all… all the way up! After a couple of nights and a couple of hours into that maelstrom of twangin’ and honky tonkin’, and wailin’ lonely love tunes, boy I never felt more goddamn de-pressed; and then I realized that everybody in America has a broken heart! Jesus. It’s true. The Blacks, the Injuns, the Mexicans, the …the anglo-saxon goddamn protestants, the heebs, the…whoever! Broken hearted. So a lot of drinkin’ and smokin’ goes on, and since everybody’s different, it well all comes out as hell or high water. Now POP Radio…don’t judge by that shit. There’s “real country”, and “real western” out there. Goddamn it, Quimosabe’! Not that boot lickin’ jibber-jabber about kickin’ somebody’s ass because they don’t wear a cowboy hat, or love Dubya Bush#43-44. Yeah the wild west is great. I ain’t there, nor out there now, but once you cross that Mississippi, the actual land does something to you. It’s an earth thing. No shit. It’s different. The sun is different. The sky is different. BIG Sky Country. It ain’t the Steppes of Russia….nope…it’s the prairies of North America. The mountains… SHINING SNOW CAPPED MAJESTY…ehehahh. It’s the Earth herself, the Gaia Hypothesis, pushing up into your spirit through your feet and legs. Yeehaaa! God help us. “Show us yer’ GUNS!” Most of the southwestern US is desert. Most everybody who hasn’t been there doesn’t know that. The sun can feel like a knife cutting down on you from the sky up above, say like in, El Paso, Texas. Be so dry your breath disappears in your nose. You feel your hair wrinklin’ to a crisp right on your head. When you reach out your arm, your skin feels itself getting closer to the sun and wants you to stop moving…So hot your blood makes cracklin’ noises in your brain. As you turn your head and watch the wavering mirages, elemental thunderbirds lift skyward and beckon across the wasteland. A car door opens and a radio’s bangin’ out some Emmy Lou Harris tune, and your heart starts beating again as you get into the air conditioned space. Country&western suddenly makes sense...UFO’s crashed right down the road and nobody’s surprised at all.
I was working in LA once, at the Larry Flynt magazine headquarters on Wilshire Blvd. as a computer contractor , and when me and my crew went to lunch, one of the young whippersnappers says …let’s take his car. Well, we walked up to this bright purple early model Dodge of some sort; he was a black guy, and his name was “Jumani”; and so I got in the back seat, and the other guy, a Mexican dude on the crew, got in the front, and as we did, we noticed all these freakin’ wires on the floor going under the seats and he had them tucked in that orange innerduct shit for fiber cable, and we remarked on this, and laughed, and then he turned the key and started his engine and I thought the back seat where I was sitting had exploded, and we were being killed in an accident with a semi-tractor-trailer or something! When my senses came back to me, I realized it was his radio had come on and the fucking thing was SO LOUD I thought I was going to puke out my ears! I told him to shut it the fuck OFF! And how the hell could this be OKAY? He had to be the world’s worst driver because what human being could possibly think with this happening in their freakin’ CAR! Those two guys just laughed and laughed, as we pulled out of the underground parking lot up onto whatever street, and the goddamn radio was shaking the car and the sidewalks and splintering the asphalt and we drove straight out and crashed into an oncoming car at which point, thank god, the car stalled! He proceeded to get out and argue with the hapless victim in the other car, and the cops came, and the witnesses said the car was so loud nobody could think straight, and he got a summons to DMV court to figure it all out and when the cops heard the radio they told him he was “treading on thin ice”. Whatever the hell that means in LA!
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