Sinister: third's the one with the hairy chest

[David Hewitt]

G'day Sinister.

NEW MUSIC

Is mostly terrible, obviously. But then again, most music, at most times, 
has been mostly terrible. There's nothing new or strange about that. I think 
my problem is that it's getting harder for me to find that little bit that's 
not terrible. The harder it gets, the less I look. The less I look, the less 
I find. The less I
find, the more terrible it all seems. The more terrible it all seems, the 
less I can be bothered looking, and so on. And it now seems that I've 
crossed some sort of event horizon, where the amount of 'unspeakably awful' 
in the new music I'm exposed to has reached critical mass, and the effort 
and unpleasantness involved in finding the new good music now outweighs the 
benefits to be reaped from finding it.

Or I could just be old, cranky and stuck in my ways. It's easier to go back 
rather than forwards, after all.

Still, I'm beginning to understand how most people's record collections get 
sort of frozen at some point in time, where the well-intentioned newer 
purchases never seem to quite sit comfortably alongside their more worn-in 
and well-loved older shelf-mates. I used to ridicule my parents for their 
(at the time)
hysterically out-of-touch record collections, but it looks like the joke 
will be on me, when at fifty, I'll still be listening to The Queen Is Dead 
and possibly even warbling tunelessly along. A terrifying vision of the 
future, if ever there was one. What sort of sense is that going to make to 
my potential offspring? Precious little, I'd imagine.

When I was buying new records every week, and loving them, I swore: "it'll 
never happen to me". But then again, we all swear that about all sorts of 
things, I suppose.

The tricky thing about pop music is also the same thing that makes it great, 
though - the fact that it sticks to things. Times, places, people, events. 
You know. Things. And the sorts of things that are responsible for forming 
me - making me who and what I am, if you like - have mostly already 
happened, and therefore already have soundtracks attached to them. A lot of 
the really important ones happened before I left school, and are accompanied 
by all sorts of ridiculous music, the recorded versions of which I should 
probably hide in the study. But I don't, because I'm married now, so I don't 
need to impress girls any more. Besides, there's nothing wrong with Hall and 
Oates anyway.

So let's say a really good album comes out now. One every bit as good as my 
own current, personal, all-time top ten, for example. Unlikely. Then I 
somehow become aware of such an album and purchase it. Less likely still. 
But let's say that I do. What chance does it have, really? What's it going 
to attach itself to? I'm hopeful that I still have great, exciting and new 
things ahead of me, but they're not realistically going to shape me in the 
same way as things did when I was 15, are they? Nope. Plus, I'm less likely 
to have headphones on when things do happen, these days.

So really, it's not music's fault. It's probably a little bit mine. But 
mostly, I think there's a point where you know you've already heard the best 
song you'll ever hear. It's not going to get written when you're 45, or 
probably even 25. Not because songs are getting worse, or because your taste 
is any less
discerning. It's just that truly great pop music is always about a heck of a 
lot more than you can actually contain within a pop song. That's why it's 
important and special.

Having said that, I recently listened to the new Blur, the new Radiohead and 
the new Dandy Warhols, and I thought they were all varying shades of shit.

GETTING MARRIED

Yeah, I did that. Thanks for your song suggestions, by the way.

We ended up settling for The State I Am In, for several reasons:

1. It kicks arse.

2. It's as close as I can imagine to the definitive B&S song, and (in a 
roundabout sort of way, via Sinister) they're the reason we met.

3. It features the line "got married in a rush, to save the kid from being 
deported", which is fairly fitting.

4. Julie wouldn't let me play Maneater by Hall & Oates.

The only problem was that they let the CD play, and by the time we were 
actually signing the certificate, and the room was quiet enough to really 
hear the words properly, it was playing She's Losing It. Still, it could 
have been worse. Later on, it was. My mother got drunk, and for reasons best 
known to herself, started singing Queen's We Are The Champions at the 
reception, in full voice. Bless her cotton socks.

Oh, and there has, unbeknownst to me until just now, been some sort of 
effort made to get some photos of the wedding displayed on a website. I'll 
show you the link when it's ready. You can thank Jay (one of the kindest and 
indeed most handsome of all listees) when the time comes, as I understand 
it's his doing.

Married life is much the same as it was before, with a nice new ring, and a 
bigger telly. So on the whole, I can't complain. Plus, now Julie's going to 
have a harder time getting away from me when she finally comes to her 
senses.

POETRY

Thanks to Lucy for her poem. It put a smile on my face when I got to work. 
Jolly clever.

FOLKS

There's nowt as funny as 'em. Or at least that's what my dear old 
Grandfather used to say. He was a wise man. People posting lists of things 
they think are great just reminds me of how diverse a bunch we really are. 
For example: I think most of what you like is completely shit. It's a good 
thing that we can all get along despite our differences, eh?

Incidentally, I don't suppose you want to hear about the cup of tea I just 
had, or what happened at work this morning, do you? Thought not. Just as 
well, really, because it was extremely boring indeed. Forget that I even 
mentioned it.

YOU LOT

I really miss some of you. You know who you are. Seppos, mostly. In fact, 
let me finish this project at work, pay off my last couple of trips, and 
generally pull my head out of my arse, and I'll come and see you again. Now 
I've landed an American wife, I can probably wangle a green card as well, 
and stay for a bit longer this time.

That's by no means intended to exclude the extraordinarily kind 
representatives of the UK massive, with whom I've had the pleasure of 
spending a criminally insufficient amount of time - I'll come and visit you 
(hopefully under much more pleasant circumstances than the last time) on the 
same ticket, though possibly not until the return leg of the trip. A round 
the world ticket is actually cheaper from here
than an East coast US return. I won't be able to buy any sort of ticket for 
a while, though. I've got a lot of work to do, particularly if I keep 
writing long emails like this instead of actually doing it. Bloody Sinister.

Still, the satisfying size and bulk of this email should help cover up any 
lack of actual quality or content therein. Just because I don't spend as 
much time online as I once did, doesn't mean I don't still love your guts. 
'Cause I do.

Bulk love,
-Vanilla Flavoured David.

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