Back from Purr and I find myself forced to join the rest of the Music Press In Exile and reference Paul Morley's Words and Music.
(Not that I really am part of that. Despite the music content, this is far from a music blog or any attempt at journalism. It's about the personal experience of sound and experience rather than any attempt of genuinely writing about it. I just wanted to use Reynold's phrase "The Music Press In Exile" - basically the Music parts of the blogosphere - because I wanted to say how perfect it is. For that reason, you may safely assumed I've ripped it off and put it into PHONOGRAM)
Mr Morley, at the section where he turns his lens on music journalism itself and specifically the generally unspoken desire, upon certain sorts upon getting into it, to be the Best In The World, in a very real Heavyweight Championship Way. As he passes through the section on Metal Machine Music, he notes that if upon first hearing Lou Reed's piece of vinyl-etched sociopathy you aren't immediately capable of vomitting 10,000 words, then you shouldn't consider yourself a serious contender.
This was brought to mind tonight, upon seeing the Zoltan Kodaly School for Girls. If upon being presented by four girls dressed in schoolgirl outfits, playing pop-hits on recorders you aren't able to throw out at least a dozen theories, you're thinking about the wrong line of work.
(Their proper website is down at the moment. I got it off Google. That Picture is from here)
Between laughing, my thoughts were linked to how this presentation of "Like a Virgin" or "The One That I Want", never mind "Seven Nation Army" or "Anarchy In The UK" compares and contrasts the modern secular musics and the pre-electricity world, showing both the continuity between The Wicker Man soundtrack and Hypertech R&B, but showing that technology has allowed intensities incapable of expression through such material - also showing the naivettity lying in the heart of most of the pop experience. Alternatively, the expansive cover of Stairway to Heaven managed to compeletely ridicule one of the most bloated products of that most phallocratic of bands - and the fact that the recorders add a whole fellatio-edge to the proceedings make it particularly pointed.
Clearly, a once in a life experience. Also my outside bet for a top ten novelty single before the end of next year.
Too tired to write about The Futurehead's pummelling anti-funk now. I'll write more when they release their free MP3 on their site later this month, probably.