I have a new-found respect for metal. Music that is. Having gone to experience once more a sonic assault by the wonderful Yellow Swans, I got to hear also the "shamanic black hole doom" of Black Boned Angel. (Their words, not mine.) They came on first - Campbell Kneale on guitar (Birchville Cat Motel) and the drummer from The Stumps on bass. Between them they conjured up a glowering mass of noise that filled every crevice and orifice of everything and everyone at the little Valve bar. Big shuddering guitar, deeply primal. Kneale's connection to his guitar, and at times, the speaker, looked deeply sexual. Or had I drunk too much beer. And then, my initiation into the metal scene: Backyard Burial "Lower Hutt Grind Scum". It was as much fun to watch the crowd as it was the band. Since I listen mostly to indie pop, alt country, electronica in many forms and a bit of what could be described loosely as rock, this was totally new to me. I hear something of it's ilk out of my son's bedroom. I kinda liked it. I got myself into a headspace that was just taking it in: watching, observing, listening, and trying not to judge. I ended up coming to the conclusion that there were similarities here with jungle - fast dirty jackhammer beats - than with any other music I knew. And then - another dose of Yellow Swans. These guys play for a short time, but with music as intense as theirs it's long enough. It was so intense I nearly peed my pants. Okay, that's a lie, but I don't know how else to describe how it built up internally till I felt like I was gonna burst. I wonder what it must feel to make music like that. It's like an incanatation - summoning up some kind of ferocious manifestation of noise. Exhilirating. Saying that the music has an orgasmic nature sounds trite, but it's kinda true. I don't know that I would want to listen to them recorded. I imagine it would lose it's intensity.
New music is good for the soul. I am lusting for something new at present and my tastes have just sky rocketed out of control. I can barely recognise my own palate.
I need direction or I will start convincing myself that the dixie chicks is where I am heading. I almost shudder at the thought but I am leaning to odd tastes.
It is hard when everyone around you listens to crap and your husband is content to play the same bullox over and over and over and fecking over.
It's where large amounts of my money/time/money/thoughts go. Music makes my world go round.
Rose, reading your 'review' [or whatever you wanna call it] made me happy -- I can totally relate to that feeling of intensity, just building up and up, while you're standing there trying to take it all in -- it's f**king amazing! One of the best feelings in the world, I think -- when you can feel the little hairs on the back of your neck tickling and rising [does that sentence make sense?]....
Music makes my world go round too, you know. I have such enormous respect for musicians. For what they are able to do with sound[s], instruments, etc. - and to us listeners out there, somewhere.
Happy listening!! :-D
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