The World of Stuff .com

More ‘cords

Some more records I bought a few days ago arrived in the mail today. If the store were better I’d tell you the name of it, but for now it’s Name Withheld Records, Anytown, USA. One of these things is not like the others:

• The Animals – “House of the Rising Sun” b/w “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” (gray vinyl)
• The Chiffons – “One Fine Day” b/w “Sweet Talkin’ Guy”
• The Gin Blossoms – “Follow You Down” (Edit) b/w “Till I Hear It from You” (LP Version)
• The McCoys – “Hang on Sloopy” b/w “Fever”
• The Righteous Brothers – “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” b/w “(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration”
• The Righteous Brothers – “Unchained Melody” b/w “You’re My Soul and Inspiration”
• The Weavers – “Goodnight Irene” b/w “On Top of Old Smoky”

(I had ordered several more, but it turns out they were not in stock, so all the ones I got were by groups with names starting with “the.”)

I sincerely wish that I would stick to, say, one genre of music. You have no idea how humiliating it is to buy these stupid songs on this stupid format. These are, for the most part, old people songs. “Goodnight Irene” originally came out on 78. Three and a half cool points to any other teenager who can identify what that is (was). I can’t listen to this garbage. I’m supposed to fit into a mold. There are plenty available: one for each sub-sub-subgenre of rock music.

The other day I heard a song on the radio. The DJ said it was by Stone Temple Pilots, “who put the guitar rock back into ’90s post-grunge.” Whaa? It confuses me so. I was once asked about my opinion on punk rock. “It’s dead, and besides, only the British could do it, right?” I was asked. Ummm, sure? What do I know? I was living a lie with that person; or, rather, he perceived me wrongly. As a guitarist and a fan(atic) of the Beatles, he assumed me to appreciate Beatles-and-after, whereas I actually live in Beatles-and-before, which is not how real guitarists come.

I’ve tried listening to some stuff, but nothing really moves me. Ska (the new kind) doesn’t exactly do it for me. Heavy metal, soft metal, light metal, rusty metal — no. I don’t even know what other styles there are. Emo — well, indie is the new emo, I’ve been told. Indie is weiRd with a capital R. Some of that stuff (Postal Service, etc.) is not music so much as sound. You’ve got your whiny white guys, non-(musically)-talented white girls, and black people — no offense, but I have no idea what they’re saying. I’m white, so I naturally can’t understand that sort of thing unless I was raised in the hood.

I guess I’d call myself a music lover without a face. I wouldn’t really feel comfortable listening to any satellite radio station. I can’t be pigeonholed into the genres of today. When people talk music to me, all I can do is say “Yep… mmm-hmmm… me too.” I can’t call myself a true musician for that reason. It also leads me to think about my band.

For years I had this dream that my band — my friends and I — would somehow hit it big, going around playing the music we loved, cutting CDs and junk like that. Only recently I dismissed the fantasy as impossible. It’s impossible to get together a band whose five members go to three different schools and like profoundly different musical styles. It just can’t be done. They can be friends, sure. But when one of their asses (mine) is too lazy to call four people and pray that they’ll all be able to come over on a given day (which has happened a number of times I can count on one hand), nothing happens. To add insult to injury, they can’t even keep a name for a year (did I mention that the other members want to change the name again? After the nine-month band name fiasco that ended last July, I want nothing to do with it. They can choose whatever name they want.)

Having a real band won’t happen. Not when we all want to graduate. My friend is taking an Advanced Placement (AP) class this year. I don’t know how he lives. I have a class that’s about as hard as one, and the bearing on my mind and the sheer amount of work has basically ruined my life. I’ll have to be in at least one AP class next year, and those classes are quite life-ruining as well (my present teachers have authority over which classes I get into next year, so they’ll all make me take AP classes), so there’s no chance of doing anything on the weekends — even if everyone could get together. (I thought school didn’t ruin your life till college.)

Musically, we’re different as night and day. And even though I’d like to write some songs, I really have no one to collaborate with. The songs I have written I’ll never be able to play — not when I’m with this band, anyhow. When I play the one song that I want them to learn, some of them just don’t listen at all and interrupt me as if I’m not playing. No, we won’t be able to play at the local haunts where all the cool people go to hear the cool bands play. You have to have a repertoire in order to do that. (In fact, we came up with this system where we do a song that each person wants to play, and thus learn five songs at a time. After, say, three years, we’re still coming up with songs for the first round. Not that there’s a shortage of ideas, but we never get anything done at practices.)

Of course, I place a lot of the blame on myself. I really wanted to be in a real band, but eventually that feeling has just gone away. I play my guitars, but in spite of everyone’s pushing, I don’t want to take lessons. That’s because I just don’t want to get better at the guitar. For the music I like, I’m good. The music I like has simple (or no) guitar solos, and never more than, say, six to eight major or minor chords. I can’t play lead guitar. I can’t play licks or riffs. I never could; that’s why I play rhythm in the band. But I can’t even play “real” rhythm, like ultra-super-fast power chords which I’m supposed to. So it all boils down to the music I like — that’s one of the main sources of the whole problem.

I want to keep the band going, though — I guess only to see my friends that I otherwise wouldn’t see. And to play the four songs that we’ve learned over the past four years. Even though just thinking about the band makes me depressed about all that we can’t do, at least I get to talk to my friends.

And now a relative slew of Ask Jordons, all of which rolled in today.

Tom: Black liquorice: disgusting, tolerable or delicious?

Either disgusting or just tolerable. I can’t remember the last time I had it.

kevin: you should make TWOS in Spanish, for the 417 millions speakers worldwide and the 30 million speakers here in the USA. that was random.

Right now it’s in English for the 350 million speakers worldwide and the… well, like, all of the people here in the USA. I have an extremely long way to go if I want to be fluent in Spanish. If you could translate everything for me, that would be great.

lollie: i have fallen out with friend and she wot make up with me what should i do?

I frequently get Ask Jordons from my friend Sean, who disguises his identity rather thinly. I don’t answer some of them because I know it’s just him by his characteristic all-lowercase typing, typical topics, and explicable aliases. Even though you, Lollie (if that really is you), have typed in all-lowercase, I don’t think you’re Sean because you made a typo. So here’s my answer.

Well, I’m answering this as a true guy, so pardon the lack of sensitivity. But if I were you (which obviously I’m not), I’d just tell her to forget about the whole thing because it was probably nothing to begin with. See where you went wrong. If she’s your friend, she’ll want to be your friend again too.

This sort of thing happens all too much with my sister. I don’t know what it is about girls that gives them makes them prone to so much drama. It ruins them. And while we guys coolly relax with our friends, they’re the ones who think we’re dumb.

DigiBless! It’s holy water for your files! Maybe my site would get more hits if I sent it through their sacred servers. No further comment.