raaaaaaaaaaant
im sitting here listening to unreleased ryan adams tunes. and they are all fantastic. so it got me to thinkin, just what it is about him or buckley or sigur ros or radiohead that kills me...lays me out for dead. i feel i need to back this up with some history of my dissatisfaction with music.
at some point, somewhere along the way, music stopped making sense to me. more than that, it stopped being relevant and meaningful. it was always good for a release or a good time, but as far as writing and being an active participant it lost its luster. the notes lost their meaning to me, literally. why is there an A here? why does this guy bend up to an E at that point and run down an octave in the pentatonic scale? whats the meaning behind? whats the point? it stopped answering questions for me and just left me empty handed and wondering why.
so after having two white russians, a glass of whiskey, and three 007's i can honestly say that i still dont know. but i stopped caring. it doesnt have to MEAN anything, just have to convey something, and that is where i erred. i have always looking for meaning in everything though, whether it is music or books or any kind of art form, there was always the necessity of meaning. i extended this even to a minute scale where individual notes mattered, individual choice of words mattered, and very rarely was i getting a satisfying answer, to no fault of my own interpretation.
but tonight, i stop caring. i listen to ryan adams singing a song, and i dont know why, but it is drenched in heartbreak. he is saying everything i could ever want to say, even though i am not broken hearted at the moment...yet. (weird how eventhough i am not as of yet broken hearted, somehow realizing how i could be broken hearted and confessing the depth to which i could be seems an apt description of my feelings towards a certain...area seems like a generous compliment...weird? yup) the notes stopped mattering, the message overshadows the method, which transgresses my long standing motto of the goal is in the process. but is the process the realization of the message through the conveyance of the notes? hmmmm. something to sleep on i suppose.
for now, la cienega just smiled and walked away.
at some point, somewhere along the way, music stopped making sense to me. more than that, it stopped being relevant and meaningful. it was always good for a release or a good time, but as far as writing and being an active participant it lost its luster. the notes lost their meaning to me, literally. why is there an A here? why does this guy bend up to an E at that point and run down an octave in the pentatonic scale? whats the meaning behind? whats the point? it stopped answering questions for me and just left me empty handed and wondering why.
so after having two white russians, a glass of whiskey, and three 007's i can honestly say that i still dont know. but i stopped caring. it doesnt have to MEAN anything, just have to convey something, and that is where i erred. i have always looking for meaning in everything though, whether it is music or books or any kind of art form, there was always the necessity of meaning. i extended this even to a minute scale where individual notes mattered, individual choice of words mattered, and very rarely was i getting a satisfying answer, to no fault of my own interpretation.
but tonight, i stop caring. i listen to ryan adams singing a song, and i dont know why, but it is drenched in heartbreak. he is saying everything i could ever want to say, even though i am not broken hearted at the moment...yet. (weird how eventhough i am not as of yet broken hearted, somehow realizing how i could be broken hearted and confessing the depth to which i could be seems an apt description of my feelings towards a certain...area seems like a generous compliment...weird? yup) the notes stopped mattering, the message overshadows the method, which transgresses my long standing motto of the goal is in the process. but is the process the realization of the message through the conveyance of the notes? hmmmm. something to sleep on i suppose.
for now, la cienega just smiled and walked away.
posted by Chris Porter at 11:04 PM
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