I’d be the type of band member who wouldn’t go to all the parties. I’d go home after the gig and watch a bit of Who Do You Think You Are? on BBC 1. I wouldn’t make out with the groupies in the trailer and engage in some heavy petting. I’d rather water the plants. And God forbid if all the action got a little too ‘blue’. We’re not married, it’s hardly appropriate. Would you care for a game of chess, instead?
Of course, this is all presuming we’re a rock band. Which is a fine presumption, because rock is the only true form of mainstream music that has ever existed. It has soul, passion, heart, a story, a true meaning unbeknownst to any other type of mainstream music. All that other stuff may sound like it has heart and soul, but it’s merely fake. Copied from a Wikipedia article. I’m not plastic. I’m not in it for the money. I’m in it for the music, man. And that music, our genre? Post-rock. Oh, it’s orgasmic. That’s my band. No singing, just instrumental. Highly experimental and highly charged. Just listen to The Evpatoria Report. Can’t beat it. Something to aspire to for my band of merry budding rockers.
We’d call ourselves Dennis Route 10. Route 10, because it’s random and quirky and that sums up our sort. And Dennis, because who doesn’t love fire trucks? Our tunes would have no themes. Themes are all transcendental, man. Nature has no subject. We’re all living in this maze of life like caged animals. Themes are a veil over that cage. By breaking free of them we can live within the higher plains of our existence and dwell like a surrogate to the bright lights that engorge our atoms, dude. Dancing on our feet, on the spot, arms waving in the air trying to achieve something incomprehensible. Our music. No themes. Themes are nothing, cat. They are ancient, dangerous relics and not what we are about. We’ve evolved beyond that. It’s our true expression. Man.
I’d be known as Grandmaster Mauve. The others would be known as Yoghurt, Slim, Hole in his Socks, Jeannie and Earplug Implosion. We don’t have a style. We are our own men. We don’t follow no fashion. We are our own fashion. Fashionable inside a bubble of unfashionableness. We just jam our funky tunes in an extension of how we feel and others tag along. Find meaning in our tunes. I wouldn’t play my sitar with heart. It is my heart.
That’s my band. That’s what post-rock is to me. Utterly fantastic. It’d be an honour to be a part of that scene with Dennis Route 10. Ah. Memories.
The Friday Bonus Question:
Plucked from the basement of the internet, a bewildering real question that defies logic and an answer, here for you to ponder:
What colour should a human turn after it’s cooked?
Note From the Author: For absolutely no logical reason, I’ve now uploaded all the previous blog headers of this blog on the About Me and the Blog Page, in the form of a carousel. There’s no need for it, but I liked the idea, so there it is.
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