Circumlocutions

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Location: Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Born to the loving graces of a professional sword swallower and a chartered accountant, my life began ordinarily enough. Most of my imaginary youth was spent in the company of wild photocopiers. Initiating myself into the "Paper Shredders" I would see a great deal of the inside of hospitals and jails due to our constant warring over territory with the malevolent shopping trolleys. Rescued by the infamous ZuckerBaby from the downward spiral of gang life, I find myself here, disembodied in a computer.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Why I don't have a music collection.

Many friends, family, girlfriends and acquaintances have been baffled, over the years, by my complete lack of a taste in music. To them it seems as though something is wrong with me. When asked what music I like my usual response is shrugging, pointing to the nearest band/person/thing playing music and say “That's ok”.


Needless to say this infuriates people. It seems that the human genome is meant to have a music appreciation DNA supplement that I, apparently, am lacking. It's not that I don't like music as whole. I do. I love it. I just don't go out of my way to remember who does it. And I don't buy it. All in all I have five music CD's. I didn't buy any of them. They are Gorrilaz, Killing Heidi, Martika (I have no idea where it came from), Uncle Cracker (I have yet to listen to this and have no idea who this person is) and Bing Crosby's Christmas Album.


I used to say that “I know what I don't like”. Rap. But I have since stopped saying that. Not because I like Rap now but because I have heard a few Rap songs that didn't seem to be abusing the listener for doing somebody wrong and a few that I grudgingly liked. And here's where the problem starts again, I have no idea what those songs were or who they were by. My theory is that my addled brain has a finite memory and is hard at it holding up to the strain of remembering where I put my pants and which way is “tighty” and which way is “loosey”.


I'm also a little shitty at music. It has been said before, mostly by stand up comedians more eloquent and certainly more amusing than I, that when one is in a relationship songs are just songs. Maybe uplifting maybe fun to dance to and mostly nice as a background score for the walk to train station.


Then you break up. And the songs change. Suddenly they are all about love, meeting the perfect partner, breaking up, the things you've done wrong in love, unrequited love, love, love, love. And not just some of them. All of them. Even Rap songs that have up until that point been about putting caps in peoples bottoms is now suddenly about putting caps in peoples bottoms because of the love of a girl. So thinking that lyrics are the culprits you switch to Classical and you quickly find what the composer was trying to convey without words. Love. The pain of loneliness. The ecstasy of finding one's soul mate. Elevator music now brings tears to your eyes.


Yet, when I was in a relationship I cannot remember a song called “How do you make so many dishes?” or “Your kindness and understanding is killing me” or, on the other side “Did you go out with the boys last night?” or even “You're lying and I will try to pretend you're not.”. And when out of a relationship I have yet to hear a song called “I read a good book today” or “The bus was blue and my shirt was green.”


So that's why I don't have a CD collection. Because music is a crafty sod that can change without changing.


And I have yet to learn how to do that myself.

(Edited: Did the "your - you're" thing. Thanks ZB)