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epitome of incomprehensibility
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The summer is slowly rolling to a close, and the epitome of incomprehensibility, while diffident and soft-spoken on the exterior, is secretly rejoicing that she no longer has to hear the Montreal pop radio channel Mix 96 every single bloody day. That, you see, is what is almost invariably played where I work. And the problem with this radio station is not that it plays the same songs over and over, which I philosophically accept as an ineluctable quality of Top 40 sorts of things, but that I start LIKING songs that I vow first to despise.
Take the Pussycat Dolls song "When I Grow Up" or whatever it is, tuneless and monotonous and the electronic distortion adds nothing to it, and besides the singers dress like parodies of something, not like people... and then I start to analyze things and think maybe they are being parodic, and the constant talk about being famous is actually making fun of this whole obsession, and then worse, I actually start humming along to the thing...
Anyway, there's Coldplay's new album, Viva la Vida or Liberty Exposing Her Mammary Glands, which I can feel relatively unashamed of liking.
A new musical obsession of mine, more on the classical side now, is Philip Glass. I've listened to his Music in Twelve Parts, probably the most experimental work, and some smaller orchestral pieces. I watched the movie Kundun, about the young Dalai Lama, mainly for the Glass score. The film itself was quite good, by the way... it was a bit of a surprise to me that it was directed by Scorsese, who's better known for cops-and-robbers sort of stuff. Also in the realm of film, there was a documentary about the composer shown in some theatres recently. One review said it was okay but a bit cold and distant like Glass' own music. I resent that. I don't find his music cold at all. Serene and smooth, like... well, like glass (why not?) but not distant. Anyway I didn't get to see the film, sadly enough.
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080816
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