does an angel die?
Have I mentioned lately how much I love my Jason Spaceman?
I was just thinking on the walk home that he really is perfect for an atheist like me. Cos I can throw my hands in the air and yowl joyfully along with the rising rising choral parts, totally secure in the knowledge that I am also railing against religion rather than for it. 's why I think I have such a deep deep love for Won't Get To Heaven (The State I'm In). Although that begs the question: show me one Spiritualized fan who doesn't love that song with a mad-eyed ferocity.
God, I love the harmonic chorus/bridge wotsie thingie ... damnit, the 'ooo ooo's ... in this song. Chilling and poignant and so damned lovely for that glimmer of light in all the darkness. It's the contrast, is what it is. *nod* That the main vocals are deep satisfying monotonous chant and then suddenly these soaring lovely notes. I think that quality of contrast owes itself to Fenton. But then I could be short shrifting Teh Nooman.
Yep, after two days out of the stereo, I twitched a lot and wondered why all my music sounded so damned unsatisfying. Then last night I put Jagged back in just for the title track and *moans* ... still such a fucking sexy song! Guh. It makes me want to do unspeakable things. Well, unspeakable for other people. I wish my albums would hurry up and get here already cos I want to order Exile next and therefore possess the full complement of Dark!Nooman. *twitches*
I was thinking on the bus this morning that I've been moving towards the industrial genre for a while now. Because it really does seem to satisfy me far better than any other genre, as much as I love my Kylie and my Mac and my BJM. It's not the lyrics, it's the sound itself. The slices and grinds, the layers of roar and beauty, and that great solid base of darkness. It's not tinny, it's not sparkly, it's prowling and growling and luckily so far, fairly authentic. So the moments of light and sweetness are all the precious. Dionysian, right? Horror and beauty in the same image. Began with Muse, moved to NIN, now in Numan. Whither next, o pilgrim?
What? Oh, today was perfectly unremarkable. Except for an early morning discovery that one of my fellow monitors had no idea what Armistice Day was. *boggles* I'm afraid he got a bit of a history lecture at that point while I felt myself fossilise with every outraged word. All right, he's young and eventually remembered the minute of silence from high school and then tried to impress on me his knowledge of when the Japanese surrendered. Oy.
At least then I got to have this slightly fraught but rather amusing conversation with the court officer about what our world would be like if the Germans had won. I need to follow up on that with her tomorrow and make sure she understands I don't mean any disrespect. Cos she actually was in the airforce and told me it's going to be ninety-one years tomorrow since the day. Wow. Ninety-one years since Armistice Day.
It was then she said "I don't think people realise what those people sacrificed so that we could be free." I squinted, thought for a good long while, trying to choose my reaction and words very carefully, and finally said "See, I think the thing is people, especially of my generation, are taught about how those wars were twisted by the politicians." Which was my exceedingly tactful to the point of wimpishness way of saying "Um, lady, 1940s propaganda much?"
The thing is I do totally agree with her about the sacrifice bit. I still feel that inexplicable pull towards the stories of people going to those world wars, soldiers and the people they leave behind, both struggling with their idealism and the reality, the tiny human stories of people so totally unequipped for such loss of innocence, who have to find ways of coping all on their own. That thing of "ache deep but make no moans." Even though I have no connection to those experiences at all. Probably why? Dunno.
I just totally forgot to say that to her. Argh. *headdesks* She wasn't actually disapproving cos we got on to talking about the H-bomb and I told her about that wonderful moment in Empire Of The Sun and the conversation unreeled quite naturally.
But after that aggravating conversation with the young monitor, it was way awesome to walk down Castlereagh Street at the end of the day and see a thirty something guy in a suit come towards me with a poppy in his lapel. I've never done the poppy thing, kinda felt I didn't have the right, but I always try to do the minute of silence thing. Tomorrow.
And I started the next scene. Which was a huge relief except the stupid case adjourned just as the philosophical subtext was unfurling itself into text. But no matter, one step at a time sort of thing. Just not sure if I should be following Arushka at this point or leading her. One step, let's say.
I should read Empire Of The Sun. JG Ballard, after all. Burroughs afficionado. And Burgess likes him too. Hey, lookit all the B words. What, you expected profundity on a Monday evening?
Speaking of B words, I need to return some videotapes DVDs.
I was just thinking on the walk home that he really is perfect for an atheist like me. Cos I can throw my hands in the air and yowl joyfully along with the rising rising choral parts, totally secure in the knowledge that I am also railing against religion rather than for it. 's why I think I have such a deep deep love for Won't Get To Heaven (The State I'm In). Although that begs the question: show me one Spiritualized fan who doesn't love that song with a mad-eyed ferocity.
God, I love the harmonic chorus/bridge wotsie thingie ... damnit, the 'ooo ooo's ... in this song. Chilling and poignant and so damned lovely for that glimmer of light in all the darkness. It's the contrast, is what it is. *nod* That the main vocals are deep satisfying monotonous chant and then suddenly these soaring lovely notes. I think that quality of contrast owes itself to Fenton. But then I could be short shrifting Teh Nooman.
Yep, after two days out of the stereo, I twitched a lot and wondered why all my music sounded so damned unsatisfying. Then last night I put Jagged back in just for the title track and *moans* ... still such a fucking sexy song! Guh. It makes me want to do unspeakable things. Well, unspeakable for other people. I wish my albums would hurry up and get here already cos I want to order Exile next and therefore possess the full complement of Dark!Nooman. *twitches*
I was thinking on the bus this morning that I've been moving towards the industrial genre for a while now. Because it really does seem to satisfy me far better than any other genre, as much as I love my Kylie and my Mac and my BJM. It's not the lyrics, it's the sound itself. The slices and grinds, the layers of roar and beauty, and that great solid base of darkness. It's not tinny, it's not sparkly, it's prowling and growling and luckily so far, fairly authentic. So the moments of light and sweetness are all the precious. Dionysian, right? Horror and beauty in the same image. Began with Muse, moved to NIN, now in Numan. Whither next, o pilgrim?
What? Oh, today was perfectly unremarkable. Except for an early morning discovery that one of my fellow monitors had no idea what Armistice Day was. *boggles* I'm afraid he got a bit of a history lecture at that point while I felt myself fossilise with every outraged word. All right, he's young and eventually remembered the minute of silence from high school and then tried to impress on me his knowledge of when the Japanese surrendered. Oy.
At least then I got to have this slightly fraught but rather amusing conversation with the court officer about what our world would be like if the Germans had won. I need to follow up on that with her tomorrow and make sure she understands I don't mean any disrespect. Cos she actually was in the airforce and told me it's going to be ninety-one years tomorrow since the day. Wow. Ninety-one years since Armistice Day.
It was then she said "I don't think people realise what those people sacrificed so that we could be free." I squinted, thought for a good long while, trying to choose my reaction and words very carefully, and finally said "See, I think the thing is people, especially of my generation, are taught about how those wars were twisted by the politicians." Which was my exceedingly tactful to the point of wimpishness way of saying "Um, lady, 1940s propaganda much?"
The thing is I do totally agree with her about the sacrifice bit. I still feel that inexplicable pull towards the stories of people going to those world wars, soldiers and the people they leave behind, both struggling with their idealism and the reality, the tiny human stories of people so totally unequipped for such loss of innocence, who have to find ways of coping all on their own. That thing of "ache deep but make no moans." Even though I have no connection to those experiences at all. Probably why? Dunno.
I just totally forgot to say that to her. Argh. *headdesks* She wasn't actually disapproving cos we got on to talking about the H-bomb and I told her about that wonderful moment in Empire Of The Sun and the conversation unreeled quite naturally.
But after that aggravating conversation with the young monitor, it was way awesome to walk down Castlereagh Street at the end of the day and see a thirty something guy in a suit come towards me with a poppy in his lapel. I've never done the poppy thing, kinda felt I didn't have the right, but I always try to do the minute of silence thing. Tomorrow.
And I started the next scene. Which was a huge relief except the stupid case adjourned just as the philosophical subtext was unfurling itself into text. But no matter, one step at a time sort of thing. Just not sure if I should be following Arushka at this point or leading her. One step, let's say.
I should read Empire Of The Sun. JG Ballard, after all. Burroughs afficionado. And Burgess likes him too. Hey, lookit all the B words. What, you expected profundity on a Monday evening?
Speaking of B words, I need to return some videotapes DVDs.