For what it's worth...part 2
There are moments in my life that I realize just how little I really know. More specifically of a culture-historical nature pertaining to American life. I try to thread information inbetween these gaps and redeem my limited education by sharing these thoughts on this here little soap box of mine. I do this to understand and make sense of the greater scheme of things. Things that interest me and that I have an affinity for on some level and feel affected by it in my life. I feel that this is important, because a lot of times there are various elements that capture my attention, which has a cultural history that I know nothing of, and I strive to understand and broaden my knowledge of its heritage.
One such thought is the following: being a kid of the 90s, and being a fan of Saint Etienne, the English pop group who named themselves after their favourite French football (soccer) league, I only realized the musical genius that is Neil Young when I discovered that the opening track on Saint Etienne's debut album, Foxbase Alpha, is a Neil Young cover, Only Love Can Break Your Heart (with vocals by Moira Lambert, before she was replaced by Sarah Cracknell).
Having been a fan of Neil Young ever since my first introduction to Harvest at the age of fifteen (of which the track of the same name stands out as my favourite), I knew that Young's endeavours prior to his solo career prominently included his collaboration with David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Graham Nash. However, I never really knew or have heard anything of Buffalo Springfield until a couple of months ago, by happenstance, I came across an article in a copy of Rolling Stone magazine's fortieth anniversary edition (heralding the Summer of Love 1967, which I always thought happened in 1968) which I borrowed from a student at the design school.
It's difficult to describe my thoughts without sounding melodramatic or overemotional, but Buffalo Springfield, and American music, and Julie Taymor's Across The Universe have given me an insight, empathy, and love towards Americans and the collective state of mind during the events taking place at that point in time.
And the reason why I feel enlivened and educated and have an appreciation towards it is that, speaking as a photographer, I failed to recognize the collective state of the nation in Robert Frank's The Americans or in Kerouac's writing, but, indeed, in the music of Americans, I understand Americans, and appreciate them: the music, the history, the culture.
/end//
One such thought is the following: being a kid of the 90s, and being a fan of Saint Etienne, the English pop group who named themselves after their favourite French football (soccer) league, I only realized the musical genius that is Neil Young when I discovered that the opening track on Saint Etienne's debut album, Foxbase Alpha, is a Neil Young cover, Only Love Can Break Your Heart (with vocals by Moira Lambert, before she was replaced by Sarah Cracknell).
Having been a fan of Neil Young ever since my first introduction to Harvest at the age of fifteen (of which the track of the same name stands out as my favourite), I knew that Young's endeavours prior to his solo career prominently included his collaboration with David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Graham Nash. However, I never really knew or have heard anything of Buffalo Springfield until a couple of months ago, by happenstance, I came across an article in a copy of Rolling Stone magazine's fortieth anniversary edition (heralding the Summer of Love 1967, which I always thought happened in 1968) which I borrowed from a student at the design school.
It's difficult to describe my thoughts without sounding melodramatic or overemotional, but Buffalo Springfield, and American music, and Julie Taymor's Across The Universe have given me an insight, empathy, and love towards Americans and the collective state of mind during the events taking place at that point in time.
And the reason why I feel enlivened and educated and have an appreciation towards it is that, speaking as a photographer, I failed to recognize the collective state of the nation in Robert Frank's The Americans or in Kerouac's writing, but, indeed, in the music of Americans, I understand Americans, and appreciate them: the music, the history, the culture.
/end//