IT'S NOT MUSIC TO MY EARS

There are people more equipped musically than I to determine what effect the current genre of music is doing to keep people stirred up and angry. When the lyrics suggest love and turn me to thoughts of tenderness, I see evil faces, fire burning, loud noise at a fever pitch and find none of the physical reaction of the ballads of long ago when the world was a calmer place. When a family night out with two teen age boys is to this I wonder at the emotions engendered and the neurons that got stimulated by the concert.

Since I know the teens well, I know that they are basically caring, thoughtful boys and being brought up with good social values. These particular two are also hearing other music, including classical, so I am less concerned about their tastes. What I do not understand are those who listen ONLY to this ear crashing drumming and metal sound, that which crescendos to such angry and hateful vision and feeling.

YouTube has lots of examples. One, Metallica-All Nightmare Long surprises me that it can be called music since it assaults all my associations with the pleasure that music has provided over the years. One friend tells me he listens to this music because of the drum beats which he finds compelling.

St. Anger was about as depressing as one can get. It felt like someone's psychotic episode. I'm beginning to believe that this current generation doesn't realize that music can be made from more than voice, guitars and drums. Miles Davis, especially when he worked with Gil Evans doing arrangements, really made beautiful music. His MY FUNNY VALENTINE is especially lovely as he plays behind the vocalist.

In my head, to the tune of Lover Come Back to Me, I keep hearing Music, Come Back to Me. With luck I will be ever able to avoid Metallica and Schoenberg and his disciples.

THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD THAT SAYS 'SHOULD'

There is a Shoenberg atonal voice in my ear that rasps, "You should not write a blog tonight" Suddenly a Chopin romantic melody is heard sweetly tinkling, "You deserve a night off." Shoenberg discordantly repeats , " D*O*N*'T", hinting that what I write is as grating to him as his music is to me. That makes me pause for a moment.

Brahms sees that I am sleepy, too tired to write and thoughtfully plays a lullaby. Ah, sleep covers my consciousness........off I go to dream up tomorrow's blog .