In the above photo, I am attempting to get a former cat of mine to resolve my own paralysis (caused by an overabundance of rekkids and CDs) and choose between Mingus Atlantics that he wants to hear. I hope that, once this blog is under way, if it ever is and if you ever see it, I will be more successful persuading you to share some of musical experiences, which are fairly constant: if music isn’t blasting from my headphone, truck, home, or device speakers, unless I am talking (and sometimes even then) my memory is spinning it inside my skull. I have heard that if you stop a human at rest and in meditation–particularly a man–and ask him what he’s thinking about, the odds are 9:1 it’ll be sex. Though I have no qualms about that specific mental drifting, if you stop me in the same state, the odds are 9:1 I will be thinking about whether I will ever get to see Swamp Dogg, or if I am right about Natural Child‘s greatness, or if Jean Grae can get this multimedia thing off the ground. I am a musical monomaniac, and four decades of that state of being should produce an occasionally interesting word-birth.
Here’s what I hope to do:
1) Capsule-review records that are making me feel alive. However, I feel no obligation to keep up with what is new; it’s impossible, and besides, for the general Webwanderer, there’s more danger in never running across a stellar release from the past that’s being sucked towards the chronological dustbin. Also, I won’t waste time on hating something. Or even pointing out that something’s simply boring. Indifference is the coldest cut, and life’s too short not to always be writing about what I like.
2) Spin true tales of how music has enriched my life.
So…today I leave you with the utterances of Johnny Burnette: “I don’t need a doctor/I don’t need a pill/In other medicine/Is bound to make me ill/I need Rock Therapy/Give it to me, oh give it to me, oh give it to me….”
Oh, and let me proselytize quietly with this loud concert recording: