Sunday, 1 May 2011

Riders on the storm....

In Fringe, a very VERY odd song was playing - one that I instantly needed to turf off, because it kind of touched the strings in my brain i do not feel comfortable vibrating. Like some really ugly set of sounds, different and powerful and entirely unacceptable to me. The General instantly recognized it, loving it and then even playing it for me via YouTube, but we kind of danged/humped/went with it. It is simply not the sort of music my brain can invite face-on. I can never be that high. I could never be that low. 

Sometimes I think I should manage passion for someone very pretty, who can sing and live a life of a performer.... There are many very pretty musicians, but almost none of them can a) sing for shit or b) perform. (Gackt comes to mind as a).) David Bowie used to fit, but then he's a hundred and forty years old by now and Morrison is dead and I don't really like un-sober people. Nor do I particularly like people who are legends in their own might. I love the wild in a man, but not if it's chemistry induced. If you're wild, be wild. If you have to die for art, then I better love the art, not the person.

I'll keep looking. I haven't been properly visually committed to anyone in the musical domain since I was twelve. But no, I never really liked someone's music, looks and behavior all at the same time.