Music to watch girls by...

Originally posted 16/6/2012

Music and me and why The Smiths is NOT hanging music

The above title may seem odd and you may very well disagree with it.  It comes back to a drunken argument I had with someone who described The Smiths as “hanging music”.  I responded that anyone who hangs themselves on the basis of being upset by a piece of music is probably best off out of it and not necessarily a great loss to the world.  I was then rounded on and accused of suggesting the guy I was arguing with should hang himself, which was never my point but I reluctantly apologised, not being one for confrontation. But I stand by my point.

The person describing The Smiths as “hanging music” did not like The Smiths or Morrissey and had therefore probably spent very little time or effort in listening to their music.  I have the same opinion of Lady Goo-Goo, her music doesn't interest me (her public image less so but that is another blog altogether) and thus I do not feel qualified to criticise it.  So why pick out The Smiths rather than say Joy Division or The Cure?  Firstly, Ian Curtis, lead singer of Joy Division, made it very difficult to defend them against accusations of making hanging music by, er, hanging himself.  And, frankly, Joy Division’s oeuvre is entirely bleak and nihilistic, without exception.  The Cure actually support The Smiths argument to an extent except that whilst making beautifully sad songs their pop efforts are out and out pop songs and this is where they differ from Moz et al.

There is, undeniably, a desolate quality to The Smith’s entire canon, to deny this would be foolhardy but most of melancholy therein is lyrical and vocal.  In the most part, listen to an awful lot of their catalogue whilst ignoring the voice and you will hear the up-tempo rhythm section of Rourke and Joyce pumping out eminently danceable lines over which Marr’s jangly, infectious melodies lift the emotions.  There are exceptions of course, but on the whole there is nothing particularly “depressing” about the music itself.  Then, of course, there is Morrissey.  Without a doubt Moz was a crotchety old man in 1982 when he formed the band and has grown more and more comfortable in that role ever since.  His views on meat eating especially take no prisoners, not one for sitting on the fence our Mozza.  But unlike a lot of; for example; gothic music, which delights in being as Poe faced (pun intended) as possible Morrissey owes more to Wilde, Coward or Bennett with a definite air of mischief and humour running through his works, often self-deprecating in the manner that only someone who truly adores themselves can achieve (and I should know). There is more Kenneth Williams than Kafka to The Smiths, an aspect which sadly declined but did not totally disappear in Morrissey’s solo works.

Still, the “hanging music” is an easy epithet to throw at many of the music acts I enjoy by those who actively dislike them or are just uninterested. I can quite understand why people don’t want to listen to miserabalist music, not everyone listens to music the way I do in the same way as not everyone reads or watches movies like I do.  There does seem to be a different attitude to music by some however who would happily sit through a film or endure a novel with a dark theme with a morally ambiguous ending, they will say that the artistic merit of the work deserves respect, irrespective of any lack of morally uplifting principle or feel-good factor within.  So, why not hear music with the same critical sensibilities?  Mozart’s Requiem Mass is an unspeakable beautiful piece of music but man this guy was pissed off when he wrote it, should we therefore deem it “too heavy” for general consumption (general attitudes to “classical” music notwithstanding)? Some of the darker songs by The Cure and most of what Joy Division put out have an innate beauty to them, often dichotic.  There is at times in the music I listen to, sometimes deliberately but perhaps often entirely coincidental, a juxtaposition of ugly sounds blended with an aching sadness that touches one in whichever organ one deems responsible for emotion.

There is a chicken-egg dilemma to some, who generally should have better things to think about, as to whether people listen to miserable music because they are depressed or do they become depressed by listening to miserable music.  If I had to agree with either possibility I’d go for the former, as a person who has suffered bouts of depression from my teens I was drawn towards a music with the emotional depth that I empathised with.  But… I listen to lots of music.  Yes, I enjoy… and I mean ENJOY listening to The Smiths, The Cure, Joy Division et cetera but I also like a lot of upbeat rock music, techno, electronic pop and may occasionally even be found tapping my feet to a Lady Ug-Ug song whist probably not knowing who it is.  The reason I listen to the music I listen to is the same reason as why most people listen to the music they listen to.  I like it.

Nothing's shocking...

Originally posted 16/6/2012 

Nudity, sexiness and being outrageous

I have any theories on the human condition that with a little more education I would perhaps have been able to expound upon and map out in to a successful psychological work, bringing with it fame, fortune and hot, nubile lovelies submitting to my every whim.  But that was not to be because I was conned in to doing a fucking Business Studies BTEC and spent my college days surrounded by utter arseholes.

Nonetheless I am today presenting to you one principle I have established to be true without any doubt and anyone who says it’s not true can go do one.  It is actually two theories but there is only one word different in each so I will lay them out together.

The least outrageous/sexy people are those who believe themselves to be outrageous/sexy.

And this brings us to Lady Plop-Plop.

Except it doesn't as I know very little about her and can’t be arsed to do the research.  I’m using her as an example that she perhaps does not deserve to be made but my general perception of Lady Boo-Boo is that she is outrageous and sexy and she is sexy in that knowing way that makes people sexy because they know they are sexy.  I don’t find her sexy.  I think she looks like a poorly attired shire-horse but I am equally sure she’s not that keen on me either and I am digressing.  This is not a blog about how many not very amusing ways I can bastardize Lady Blah-Blah’s name.  Which is Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta.

Now, I’m not particularly good-looking.  This is not false modesty, it is not fishing for compliments; I think I’m a great guy and I have many qualities that make me absolutely smashing to be with but being ravishingly handsome is not one of those qualities.  By the same standard I also don’t feel that I my countenance is hideously monstrous, unkind comparisons to Paul Potts and Barry from Eastenders brought swift rebuke.  I mention this for a reason and I will get to that reason momentarily, alright, stop nagging!

I recently carried out a brief social experiment on Facebook and Twitter.  It was brief because I have a very poor attention span and I lost interest very quickly but the one response proved categorically that I am absolutely correct.  I made several posts suggesting that I am in fact so very attractive that I make angels cry, on the basis that if I say it often enough people would start to assume it is true and in fact believe it themselves.  Unfortunately I negated the “often enough” part by getting bored quickly and instead ranting about not liking Marmite or crane-flies or small ginger boys or something.  I did receive one response from an online friend, to be fair after I’d blown the ruse myself, essentially saying that in fact people who depend purely on how other people perceive them physically are just very shallow.  And I agree.

I’m not for a moment suggesting people shouldn’t care about their appearance, far from it, I myself am very vain but not because I think I’m stunning but rather because I feel I need to make the effort.  I’m self-aware enough to know that if I was rich enough I’d be all about clothes and haircuts and personal trainers because I want to look… ok.  Being a shallow, mostly heterosexual man I like ladies who dress well and look after themselves and the men I find attractive don’t tend to be beer-guzzling no-necks in polo shirts and trackie bottoms. But those people on TOWIE, for example, make me want to sick up a little.  Clearly these people of both genders can only allow themselves to be judged by their appearance and thus take it to extremes and end up looking ridiculous.  True beauty for both male and female is natural and can perhaps be helped along by our efforts but cannot be duplicated.

As for “sexy” people… really.  I've seen documentaries about people who are “into stuff” and these people are always talking about how they are “very sexual”.  What they are trying to put across is they are sexier than you or I because they do sex things and have to make sure everyone else knows about it, why else would they be on a TV programme  putting their cock in a vice or sanding their nipples?  Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.  I’m not for a moment judging people by what gets them ticking over in the bedroom or location of choice, I myself have some highly unorthodox interests in Nun outfits that I won’t expand upon here.  What I am judging is how these people wear their sexiness like a lapel badge.  Trying too hard doesn't nearly cover it, a psychologist would have a field day with the hang ups and shoulder-chips made manifest by such blatant “Me-Me-Me-Look-At-Me” behaviour.  I’m very much of the belief that true sexiness can only be achieved by accident.  It is in a glance, in a pale white neck, a brush of hands, a clever riposte, a flick of hair over the ear, a well-chosen stylish outfit, an act of kindness, an understanding disposition.  It aint making sure everyone knows what your pants look like.

And so on to nudity… never far from my thoughts.  I haven’t made much of a secret that I am a “naturist” or at least I don’t reject that label out of hand despite not necessarily pinning it to myself.  I prefer the term to “nudist” as I my belief is that there is something natural about being naked in the sun with a breeze on ones back which goes beyond just wanting to be seen naked or looking at naked people.  Yes, some “naturists” are just exhibitionists.  Mostly men, you’ll find them on the beach endlessly walking up and down and occasionally manipulating their gentlemen’s appendage to be at its optimum size.  And there are naturists who are swingers just as there are swingers who aren't naturists, thankfully these people keep their circles largely separate though there are some exceptions… Brighton beach has a problem in this regard.  Generally people who congregate together without clothing under the naturist banner have anything but sex on their minds.

To me, naturism is about being, not seeing or being seen.  For legal reasons, people who want to get their clothes off outdoors tend to go where it is allowed and thus are with other naked people and the acceptance is another part of the deal that is so freeing from the standards set upon us by society.  One can be naked without being judged.  I am not going to pretend I do not enjoy seeing a well turned out nude body but in the same way I can appreciate a rose without feeling the need to pluck it, it is a matter of aesthetic enjoyment rather than a sexual need.  For every fit hotty on a nudist beach there’s an old lady with a mastectomy, an amputee, a huge fat man and, well, a me. 

I have no wish to convert anyone to naturism.  It’s something I came to by myself and I have been lucky enough to find a partner (could put the full stop there in fact) who first accepted this facet of my interests and then joined me in it.  If others try it and enjoy it then I’d be happy for them but equally the thought of someone enduring public nudity when they are not comfortable with it is anathema to me.  It is much harder for women because of the way society judges female body shapes and also because of the pervy minority of men, who are never too fit looking themselves, who abuse naturist locations for their own jollies. 

So, whilst I am happy to admit to being a naturist I don’t want to force this upon anyone else.  I don’t think I’m outrageous for going nude, I honestly don’t see what all the fuss is about.  When undressed my elbows and the backs of my knees are as naked as my penis.  I’m not interested in shocking anyone, nothing good lies therein.  I do however enjoy social contact with others who are interested in this lifestyle choice and thus thee may be some naturist content on my website at some point up to and including me in the buff.  If so, it will be keep to one section and I’ll make sure it is known where so nobody can be bamboozled in to an accidental sighting of the Minty candy.  Watch… or depending on your views, don’t watch this space.