Sunday, 1 December 2013

my bloody valentine 2013

My Bloody Valentine  |  Metropolis

*Spoiler Alert: there is none.

Nov. 6th, 2013 - If you want to read about the actual show, how many sumptuous, vintage, analog amps MBV meticulously stacked upon each other to the heavens, how they courteously passed out free earplugs for ear protection loudness, how they tour with their own (everything from gear, to the actual tour, to the mammoth, unconventional, impressive, analog sound board that the sound board tech told me they tour with), how your brain constantly squirms while using all senses, knowledge, suppositions, previous experience to supply an answer to the sonic equation of: how do they do what they do, or more aptly, how do they construct their sound like they do? Or about how beautifully, gracefully, artistically the guitarists’ hands rapidly, amazingly strum in synch like the wings of a tribe of intuitive hummingbirds flapping their tiny bird wings in unison−

Then there is plenty out there to read on the Internet; trust me, I Googled it. Besides most of human communication is nonverbal anyway.

One of the things I love about kickin’ it soupe style is that unconventional, non-conformist linguistic expression is allowed, condoned, and even promoted. I’m not saying that the standard music review format is not a good thing−I just feel that in some instances it doesn’t quite work right for either the performance, band, or writer, respectively. So indulge me, or don’t, we’ll still be BFFs

I can in all honesty say a few things:
  • This is the first time I feel mildly uncomfortable and timid writing about a show and publicly expressing my personal experience, perception, and opinion in that order. 
  • For better or for worse, in good times and bad: Forlorn, unrequited love, deep, green pastures lightly and mistily rained upon; blended, blurred shades of ethereal, dreamlike images I don’t even understand myself, much less am able to properly (noun-verb-modifier) put on paper (but I can say the colors purple and darker pink, maybe some blue). 
  • Jeremy Lane. Had to get that out. He and I were in band and choir together from grade (middle) school until university. Together our musical odyssey threw us into the deep waters of intensity, intimacy, fun, horribleness, life altering occurrences, beauty, ick, ridicule, incredulity, mystification, heart breakings, cultivation, growth, primitiveness, quality, ecstasy, labor, deception, dedication. Our intertwined musical path was written in the sky…

(somehow, Dardanelle, Arkansas? However, one thing for which you can prop the States, even the profoundly rural, extremely poor, and back wood parts, is that there are strong (but always threatened to be cut, just like libraries), timeless music programs in place for both band and choir, where you’ll find devoted, dedicated, underpaid music teachers who care for, craft, share, support, passionately promote (like air to respiration), love, and pledge there life to MUSIC♭♫♪♬♩
Music can be a huge part of pre-secondary and secondary school learning if students so desire and/or stick it out. It’s not all peaches and cream though for various reasons: like at some point band gets nerdy and you have to decide if you are going to run with the cool click and play football/cheerleading (teenage interrelationships straight out of a John Hughes movie) or nerd it up and play music on the football field. Same goes for choir, and both band and choir, well you might as well go listen to old Black Sabbath and spray paint pentacles around town. 
In France, if you want to pursue music while doing your regular studies in grade and middle school, you have to go to a private school and have money. When I taught there, I would show students videotapes of U.S. school band performances in different contexts and they were always so happy and giddy. Don’t get me wrong, the States have a lot of horrible inequalities and poverty (to say the least) going on where people would rather spend money on the latest I Phone or WI PlayStation than tune in to help their poorer and less fortunate brothers and sisters receive medical attention from a doctor when they are sick. It’s gross and sad, but I’ll hang on to the music I got and never let go. 

  • When Lush came out Jeremy was their biggest fan, but fan is an adjective whose connotations are not descriptive enough−it sounds SO understated when I hear it rattle around in my head. And rattle around it does, until the Internet gets involved and I find the closest, possible adjective that can describe what I am trying to express, or at least one that I can live with, but not quite−and no! I’ve let it be, come to and fro, smoldered, simmered, ruminated, and yet, nothing. 
  • Son, Do Work! I’ll just invent my own word. Somebody had to invent courriel for e-mail into the French language not so long ago, and the staunchest of staunch Académie Française deigned it a word. And who does get to scholarly invent words, and how, and why?

ofasion /oʊˈfeɪʃən/
noun (plural qualities)
1 the eternal perpetuation of support, admiration, and loyalty a person has for (n.) ex. MBV

2 a person who literally sees no end in sight for their always expanding love and dedication for (n.) ex. MBV. If you could peek inside a person’s brain with this condition, it might look like the scene from Kubrick’s 2001 A Space Odyssey when the mystery of life spectacullarily, visually becomes unveiled to the protagonist in outerspace.

3 the completely saturated state of mind in which one indulges when their only thoughts are made up of (n.) ex. MBV

  • Be skeptic, I would, and am for that matter, but (those nasty buts marching in with their holier than thou attitude and Tiananmen Square mentality−sweeping away intention with one fell, flighty, final swoop)… 

Somewhere ages and ages hence: 
Two Roads diverged in a wood, and I, 
I took the one less traveled by, 
And that has made all the difference.

- to you Jeremy, my musical love note to your love affair with MVB. This union I did vicariously live, and am all the better for it.

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