Pray tell an old soul if this is what music is, or should be? Tell me where the beauty lies: in the woods of mechanical noise interspersed with bits of our routined everydays? Is it not supposed to be a distraction or an escape? Is it supposed to be like existence itself? Is that where the beauty lies? In the future of sound? Should we re-christen it sound then? So tell me, this peculiar music needs a backbone of projection mapping to support itself? Shouldn't we maybe, then, call it an installation, instead?
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
The real rocks.
They all just keep telling you to jump right in, and everything will be illuminated: your life like out of the pages of a glossy brochure.
But you still sigh at the mirror, stare despairingly at your paycheck, squeeze the fat between your fingers & chomp down on McDonald's. You do everything you swore you wouldn't. You get pushed over, you get your heart broken, you pay your bills on time, you ditch a night of debauchery and stay in watching television.
And, sometimes when you can't take it anymore, you call your parents and cry. You do that despite knowing they'll worry, you do that because you know they are there for you no matter what, you do that because you actually want to see them so badly the lump in your throat refuses to go away. And you decide to let it all go for a while. And you feel warm inside as your mum tells you - " But we are always there for you", and you know there's no greater truth than that.
But you still sigh at the mirror, stare despairingly at your paycheck, squeeze the fat between your fingers & chomp down on McDonald's. You do everything you swore you wouldn't. You get pushed over, you get your heart broken, you pay your bills on time, you ditch a night of debauchery and stay in watching television.
And, sometimes when you can't take it anymore, you call your parents and cry. You do that despite knowing they'll worry, you do that because you know they are there for you no matter what, you do that because you actually want to see them so badly the lump in your throat refuses to go away. And you decide to let it all go for a while. And you feel warm inside as your mum tells you - " But we are always there for you", and you know there's no greater truth than that.
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