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One Thing Leading To Another
I found a pair of headphones in a cupboard yesterday- and- on a whim- tried plugging them them into the tower- and now I'm wired for music for the first time in months. I told myself I didn't miss the music- but clearly I did because I'm more than happy to have it back. This morning I've been listening to a clip of K D Lang singing Hallelujah (posted by my friend ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wyrmwwd ) and it's stiffened my spine for the day.
The reason I didn't have music is a strange reason. We moved the computer from one corner of the room to another and the speakers became detatched and I couldn't work out which of the many combinations of jacks I should plug them back into. And since the business of plugging them in involved lying on a hardwood floor in bad light and hurt a good deal I just gave up. Feeble, eh?
The headphones plug into the front of the tower. Easy.
Not having music meant I missed out on the Sarah Boyle affair, which I now see is turning sour. She's had a makeover and dyed her hair and Simon Cowell is reportedly angry because he can't patronise her any more. Or something like that. I never saw why I should care in the first place. She doesn't sing my kind of music. Divorced from its sentimental backstory her act is just something I'd hastily flip past if I came across it while channel-surfing. And I hate Simon Cowell with his manipulative ways and his kitsch. Bread and circuses, people, bread and circuses.
But now I've got the music back I have watched the archive clip where she's singing for Michael Barrymore and he's lying on the floor trying to look up her skirt. Barrymore was the ur-Cowell- even more disgusting but considerably less canny.
Also he should have stood trial for murder.....
Talking about kitsch, I read a good article about it here.
Kitsch... is a heartless world. It directs emotion away from its proper target towards sugary stereotypes, permitting us to pay passing tribute to love and sorrow without truly feeling them. "It is no accident that the arrival of kitsch on the stage of history coincided with the hitherto unimaginable horrors of trench warfare, of the Holocaust and the Gulag -- all of them fulfilling the prophecy that kitsch proclaims, which is the transformation of the human being into a doll, which in one moment we cover with kisses, and in the next tear to shreds." Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will is kitsch's most exultant moment, its massed Nazis both adored and turned into statues.
Sorry, I'm feeling a little waspish this morning. We've had a hard few days and my hallelujah is cold and broken.
wyrmwwd ) and it's stiffened my spine for the day.The reason I didn't have music is a strange reason. We moved the computer from one corner of the room to another and the speakers became detatched and I couldn't work out which of the many combinations of jacks I should plug them back into. And since the business of plugging them in involved lying on a hardwood floor in bad light and hurt a good deal I just gave up. Feeble, eh?
The headphones plug into the front of the tower. Easy.
Not having music meant I missed out on the Sarah Boyle affair, which I now see is turning sour. She's had a makeover and dyed her hair and Simon Cowell is reportedly angry because he can't patronise her any more. Or something like that. I never saw why I should care in the first place. She doesn't sing my kind of music. Divorced from its sentimental backstory her act is just something I'd hastily flip past if I came across it while channel-surfing. And I hate Simon Cowell with his manipulative ways and his kitsch. Bread and circuses, people, bread and circuses.
But now I've got the music back I have watched the archive clip where she's singing for Michael Barrymore and he's lying on the floor trying to look up her skirt. Barrymore was the ur-Cowell- even more disgusting but considerably less canny.
Also he should have stood trial for murder.....
Talking about kitsch, I read a good article about it here.
Kitsch... is a heartless world. It directs emotion away from its proper target towards sugary stereotypes, permitting us to pay passing tribute to love and sorrow without truly feeling them. "It is no accident that the arrival of kitsch on the stage of history coincided with the hitherto unimaginable horrors of trench warfare, of the Holocaust and the Gulag -- all of them fulfilling the prophecy that kitsch proclaims, which is the transformation of the human being into a doll, which in one moment we cover with kisses, and in the next tear to shreds." Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will is kitsch's most exultant moment, its massed Nazis both adored and turned into statues.
Sorry, I'm feeling a little waspish this morning. We've had a hard few days and my hallelujah is cold and broken.
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This simple sentence is why I, as a rule, feel damn near offended at stories like Boyle's. Her story is presented in a way that suggests, "How can you not fall in love with this woman's story?!? You are heartless if you are not moved to tears." I hate being told how to feel and what to think. I hate being manipulated into being a follower of a trend. If her story was presented without all of the drama, I wouldn't mind. But the media worship and the suggestion that anyone with a heart must love her and be amazed at her turns me off. Politics aside, that is what turns me off about President Obama's story, as well.
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There's nothing new in the way Obama has been sold to the electorate. Look at JFK; almost everything we were told about him at the time turned out to be untrue.
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Or- as the newspaper guy says in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, "when the legend becomes fact, print the legend."
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:(
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I was sad to see from the front page of at least one tabloid that it all seems to be turning nasty. The popular press have this habit of snatching people up and chewing them to pieces before spitting them out again. It takes a canny person to ride the publicity and not get overwhelmed and destroyed by it.
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Because long ago I watched only one episode of "Idol" and got ill listening to Simon Cowell - and also by listening to the obvious "plants" of very bad performers, I missed out on the Sarah Boyle hoopla. However, since outward appearances matter not one bit to this old Beatnik, I assume that I would have judged her solely on her performance. I cannot for the life of me understand why people are so lemming-like when it comes to expressing their opinions.
Since it continues to capture spots on newscasts I am further conveniced that Simon Cowell and his ilk are hateful. I detest "Idol", and other shows where the winners are decided by how many times ones own friends can cast a vote in their favor.
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I think the whole Boyle thing was very carefully staged- and that Cowell and his team knew exactly what kind of stunt they were pulling off.
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It also led me to this:
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So what kind of music would you like?
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Also medieval music.
I'm partial to a bit of Mozart
And I'm impatiently tapping my foot, waiting for my copy of Dylan's latest album to arrive in the post.
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Did you see the TV programme on channel 4 that looked into the Stuart Lubbock case that was broadcast about a year ago? The impression that I got from that was that Michael Barrymore wasn't responsible for the murder and that it was his then boyfriend that was responsible. I feel a bit sorry for Barrymore really - he's had such a car crash of a life. He's certainly more of a sympathetic character than the loathsome Simon Cowell.
And I'm in full agreement about kitsch - though it becomes interesting when it's knowing kitsch - though I guess that pushes it more into the realm of camp, really.
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I'm all for camp!
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I wish I could drop by. With flowers or something.
Love from Jackie
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I feel better now :)
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(From an explanation: "Early one morning seven women went a short way from a recently established forest camp to gather mushrooms they had discovered the evening before. Mushroom gathering lends itself to lyrical accompaniment, for it is not strenuous and often takes place in the magical primary forest. The melodies are fragments of a boyobi ceremony sung the previous evening. These astonishing pure and powerful voices reverberate throughout the forest as the women yodel, using specially-acquired vocal techniques combined with the acoustics of the habitat to create chords with a single voice as notes hang in the air for long periods of time....")
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Our friend Ourdert is from Cameroon. I must play it for her.