Every Good Boy Does Fine

Apologies for not having written in so long- it's been a crazy few months. Expect blogs to follow on Miami and Disney World, two of my favorite places in America- but that's another story for another time. :) On to the next one.

Last summer I took up the harp. Let me first paint some inspiring images of my 5 foot flat sister and I carrying a 5 foot harp down the streets of Spanish Harlem. Two little white girls in 6 inch stilettos, hair tossed furiously in the wind on either side of a magnificent 32 string wooden harp, as equally large and heavy as either of us, while the boys on the corner fought an internal battle to holler obscenities or laugh. Most times they laughed.

I have this relationship with music unique to any relationship I have with anyone or anything else in my life. And before I go into the details of my feelings on it, this blog is mainly to clarify, at the risk of sounding about 112 years old, that the music of our generation has largely gone to shit. Please, by all means, begin preparing your arguments.

Music is one of those intangible things that has this unbelievably profound effect on me. I've been told it's because I'm an artist and an aquarius and a female and my emotional involvement with so few things in my life is counterbalanced with my turbulent relationship with music. It's as if when the chords are right and the notes are hit soft but sharp something chemical unwinds in my body, breaks me up into millions of pieces, dissolves all feelings and ideas I had in the past 24 hours and remakes my thoughts about the perfection of the world and how I can capture it. The best songs will illuminate my most obscure ideas, make me the woman you'll fall in love with when we dance, eyes turning liquid amber, swaying my body into this perfect love affair with the rhythm until all those notes explode into the air where they'll evaporate with my sweat. In the right strings, and keys and melodies, my whole being is broken down and defenseless and the only thing left is my will power to stand transfixed by its perfection until the bridge eclipses the mood and I'm left speechless. And the description just isn't enough to explain how deep it gets into my soul, how entirely it stops and moves me, and easily dissolves this cold mentality to tears in it's complete perfection. Good music is the only media that has a totally devastating effect over me, and when the music is good every fiber in my being ceases to move for a few magical minutes to simply be a part of something of such near perfection.  It's love/hate but so often it is love...which brings me back to the silly harp and my desire to play an active part in that relationship.

I've always liked learning new things. I have this incredible respect for my friends and peers who are A- Athletes or B- Musicians. While anyone who knows me and my shoe fetish would easily write off my ability to ever be an athlete, I settled to learn what might come easier to an artist- music. I relearned my second grade music theory, studied hard, and plucked notes with soft pad of my thumb while the comforting heavy weight of the wooden harp rested gently against my shoulder, humming and twanging in my sunlit apartment. I wasn't very good...but I wasn't a musical loss either. And while the lessons became more frequent and I more able, the general expense eventually became too luxurious and I was sadly forced to give it up. But not before my teacher told me that while I had years of practice to go through, and I might never be a true harpist, I had the ears and fingers of a musician and that alone was worth more than the lessons. So while I unhappily returned my lovely harp to Spanish Harlem, I took away to the small comfort that I had the ability to recognize beauty in music, relate to it and maybe someday create that beauty on my own. Almost as good a feeling of finding middle C with your eyes closed.

Which in full circle brings me to where we are today. What the fuck? I think that about sums it up.
I do agree that there are  a few bands out there creating music for the scale and beauty of music alone, for the internal pleasure it brings out in the human race and the few young hopeful musicians they themselves inspire. Can someone please explain to me what the hell everyone else is doing?
While I recognize that  different genres evoke different ideas of musical sensitivity and greatness I cannot seriously look at someone who considers themselves an artist that neither wrote, nor sung the song they are paid to sing for 2 million dollars. And I am not attacking (although I probably should) people like Britney Spears or whats her name, Ketchup, Kesha? Because largely I don't think these people consider themselves musical artists. They're performers, paid to lip sync over terrible digital tracks so when I'm drunk in the club I can shake my ass to a fun beat. I doubt they have interviews with radio stations about the intellectual musical audience they want to reach and what kind of message the power of the lyrics they didn't write has over the general population. They're ratings go up, their talent goes down, their concerts are sold out and while we look on with a "Well that's weird, they sort of suck" expression, I doubt their fans go for the incredibly inspiring musical composition.

I'm talking more about people on stations like Z100 who do all of the aforementioned and actually take themselves seriously, wondering why no one else does. I'm sorry Rhianna. A- Every song you didn't write sounds the same. B- Your voice isn't that great and C- You're the only one in the world that considers you a serious musical artist. Same for T Pain- stop whining you idiot, you're a millionaire, and loose a little auto-tune, no one can freaking understand a word you're saying. Plus, you're just not a very good rapper. I'd like to add Kanye West to this group as a person- because generally when he speaks I loose brian cells, but I hate to admit his music is sort of catchy...Still not a real artist in my mind, though.

Is it just me? Is anyone else sort of sad about what popular music has become? I grew up listening to the Beatles, and Aerosmith and the Rolling Stones. Some of the greatest bands of the century, who wrote their own music and did about 2,000 tabs of acid to get there! That's musical dedication! Once upon a time there was music for the sake of music. Of well writing chords, played in tune with perfectly sung lyrics to create these 2 minute masterpieces our grandchildren will still be singing. Aerosmith alone, while you may not love them as a band, has been creating music for their fans for over forty years. How many bands can you list that both you and your dad saw in concert when you were both 20 something? And the Beatles just may be the greatest band that ever lived...before auto-tune, and digital reproduction and ITunes. Will our kids look back on our generation with raised eyebrows, wondering what went wrong? Because when I listen to the radio, that's sort of how I feel.

I look at my friends who have tangible musical talent, sitting with their guitars or bass, on the bench of the piano. And all I can wonder is how the hell are these people with so much talent not famous while California King Bed plays for 7 millionth time in the background and I fight the desire to break every window in the room. I have hope for our generation musically speaking. I know there are bands moving forward, creating great music, making mental memories for normal people like me, even if they're not the most famous or the highest paid, or played on Z100- which in today's musical world is sort of a compliment.

And I will continue to hear my friends acapella with awe, the group of chorus kids from the middle school in a perfect harmony, the gentle pluck of the guitar strings that bring me to my knees, the soft thrum of the piano keys... And even if they're somehow not famous, I will know inside that our generation isn't lost in a sad digital music flurry- but that what is best from our generation just needs to be searched for a bit harder. That it is out there. That I'm not the only one who feels this way about the perfection of music, and more importantly that I'm not alone in my endless search for it.