I had a dream about music. Something I love, but have let slip away from my daily life. I'm so frustrated with music being secondary to the ugly packaging it's wrapped up in. Ever since people like Elvis, became legendary, while the writers and true performers, who sung with passion and danced with feeling, slipped through the crack, music has gone downhill.
Gone are the days of paying homage to the greats like Robert Johnson. Robert Johnson, the man, the myth, the legend. Does anyone remember when the box set of lost recordings came out. It was the biggest moment in music history at the time and how many people say outside of a Tower Records, waiting to grab the genius' work? This is done for Dave Matthews, Guns 'n' Roses and One Direction. Bands who have cornered a market on sameness. For every Nirvana, there are twenty grunge bands who would have yelled to Cobain to grab his shine box, but they marketed themselves to the future Starbucks sipping, hipster wannabee, fake angst crowd.
I just woke up from an afternoon nap and angered by the edge the Wu-Tang seems to have lost, but make no mistake, it's simply them trying to stay relevant, forgetting that they are the ones who set the trend, not the other way around. I am inundated by the sounds of Taylor Swift, who I do not despise. At least she writes many of her songs and when she was pure country, she sang from her tiny inexperienced heart and it was gold.
Gone are the days of Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten, their bastard children, The Clash, who kids today don't know is the primordial ooze from which their Green Day spawned from. It's why I gravitate to female singers, still trying to be as big as the boys, but having always sung from a place of pain, men will never know. Adele reminded of us of what Ella, Edith and Janis told us. I remember a night when a 24 year old girl said "Yeah, baby Bessie Smith" as I stood at the jukebox and I spent the night buying her drinks, partially helped by the bartender, as we both stood amazed, not only at her knowledge, but her appreciation.
Musicians who bled the music, not because it was part of the aura they tried to facilitate, but because it was all they knew how to do. Jelly Roll to Louie to Buddy to that little fucker in purple, who many don't know is quite possibly the greatest guitarist they've ever seen.
Say what you want about the early rappers, but it was all from the heart. Spitting rhymes about the atrocities they saw in our innermost cities. Atrocities now, that are summed up in 140 characters or less. I read the words of Chuck D now and remember when he told us to Fight the Power. The song resonates, just like it did backing that powerful movie, but the reality is, the power is winning. Dylan, Nelson and Chuck are still plugging along, but their power is passing down their craft. The real power is in the kids and the same kids who choose to wear wool caps and like songs about sitting by a pond and drinking beer. Where are those who will give us shelter from the storm?
Gone are the days of paying homage to the greats like Robert Johnson. Robert Johnson, the man, the myth, the legend. Does anyone remember when the box set of lost recordings came out. It was the biggest moment in music history at the time and how many people say outside of a Tower Records, waiting to grab the genius' work? This is done for Dave Matthews, Guns 'n' Roses and One Direction. Bands who have cornered a market on sameness. For every Nirvana, there are twenty grunge bands who would have yelled to Cobain to grab his shine box, but they marketed themselves to the future Starbucks sipping, hipster wannabee, fake angst crowd.
I just woke up from an afternoon nap and angered by the edge the Wu-Tang seems to have lost, but make no mistake, it's simply them trying to stay relevant, forgetting that they are the ones who set the trend, not the other way around. I am inundated by the sounds of Taylor Swift, who I do not despise. At least she writes many of her songs and when she was pure country, she sang from her tiny inexperienced heart and it was gold.
Gone are the days of Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten, their bastard children, The Clash, who kids today don't know is the primordial ooze from which their Green Day spawned from. It's why I gravitate to female singers, still trying to be as big as the boys, but having always sung from a place of pain, men will never know. Adele reminded of us of what Ella, Edith and Janis told us. I remember a night when a 24 year old girl said "Yeah, baby Bessie Smith" as I stood at the jukebox and I spent the night buying her drinks, partially helped by the bartender, as we both stood amazed, not only at her knowledge, but her appreciation.
Musicians who bled the music, not because it was part of the aura they tried to facilitate, but because it was all they knew how to do. Jelly Roll to Louie to Buddy to that little fucker in purple, who many don't know is quite possibly the greatest guitarist they've ever seen.
Say what you want about the early rappers, but it was all from the heart. Spitting rhymes about the atrocities they saw in our innermost cities. Atrocities now, that are summed up in 140 characters or less. I read the words of Chuck D now and remember when he told us to Fight the Power. The song resonates, just like it did backing that powerful movie, but the reality is, the power is winning. Dylan, Nelson and Chuck are still plugging along, but their power is passing down their craft. The real power is in the kids and the same kids who choose to wear wool caps and like songs about sitting by a pond and drinking beer. Where are those who will give us shelter from the storm?
Love that little guy in purple! Would love to see him in concert but its always so secretive and I find out after its over. If I ever see you in a bar I will have to remember to pretend to like the same music so I get some free booze
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