Anybody who reads my blog will see that it’s literary — or at least the closest impersonation I can muster — but it’s also got its fair share of musical pursuits, too.
And it is to music I want to direct your attention. In particular the new crop of performers who can definitely be labeled throw-away. I’m talking talentless performers like Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and all the other over-produced, gimmick-ridden, sensational-stunt acts.
I’m no music maven or the next John Peel, but there’s something deafening about the Wal-mart sounds. I’d rather listen to elevator music — at least it filled a need: something to ameliorate being locked in a lift with the possibility of being stuck in a shaft to rot away until it eventually opens and your bones tumble out.
I grew up in the long shadow of punk, and at a tender age stepped into the twilight of post-punk and new wave. And it has stained me ever since.
I want subversive, literary, all-the-stops-pulled-out rock n roll.
So many performers just don’t aspire to change public taste, they only wish to reflect it. And they need to read more myth, especially the one about Perseus and the Gorgon.
“The loud celebrities/Exhorting us to slaughter.” Alun Lewis, Anglo-Welsh poet