A while back, I detailed my awkward experience with a co-worker who was trying to make small talk about what I was reading at the moment. I played it like a silly little story… “I grinned and went back to my reading”… that kind of thing. But it’s a little deeper than that. More isolationist.
I think… and this is me guessing but it sounds right, I think that I just want to be left alone to whatever I was doing before the interruption. So I use the oddness of my hobby to drive people away. And that way I can get back to the task at hand.
Isn’t that crappy?
I’ll lay down a statement like “I’m reading about Bill Everett, influential comic book creator during the Golden Age of comics”, and then offer no more information. In my head, I’m being polite. I don’t want to bog the person down by rambling on about needless information. I save that for the readers of my blog. But this idea of throwing out an odd fact and then offering no other information is also kind of like putting up a wall. “You can’t play in my playground, so walk away and let me get back to reading.”
Crappy.
Case in point…
I’ve started to take the kids to a church Youth Group on Wednesday night. It gets them some much needed social time, away from their chores for a few hours, and gives them good influences that they just don’t get at school.
The second time I tried this out, I decided to stay at the church for two hours to work on some writing, budgeting, reading, and other similar type stuff in the quiet sitting area. Rather than trying to drive back home just to turn around in an hour and come back to get them. In order to avoid eavesdropping on conversations around me, I pulled out my iPod and plugged in.
After awhile, my back started to hurt in the chair I had chosen and it was time to move seats. I got my stuff together, moved across the room to an uncomfortable looking couch, and set up there.
A young guy, obviously affiliated with the church and studying something very closely, nodded and smiled at me. “Hey.” He said. “What are you listening to?”
I looked down at my iPod. “Oh this? This is the soundtrack to the Planet of the Apes.”
He frowned at me.
“From the 1968 movie. Not the 2001 one. But I have that one on here too. That's Danny Elfman.” I went on.
He frowned.
“That’s… “ he laughed in a friendly way. “That’s very unique.”
“I’m hipster.” I exclaimed with confidence.
Polite laugh. slowly fading smile. He went back to his reading. I went back to mine.
See? See what I mean?
Thanks,
DCD
Showing posts with label orchestral movie soundtracks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orchestral movie soundtracks. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
Music and Identity
I end up thinking a lot about music. I've spoken about this before. I don't really understand music all that well. I've never studied it in any kind of college course, I never really played an instrument, and I was even kicked out of the school choir in fifth grade. But I enjoy music, as does everyone. I like to consider how music plays into the cultural consciousness. And I think it does that by stressing individuality.
Music is a highly technical process. I finally did end up understanding that point a few years back at the behest of my first computer programming mentor. Music is an expression that several people can band together and create. And musical tastes can be used to define an individual; in order to classify that individual for others, or give oneself an identity by choice. You can perform music and establish a connection with your audience. And musical tastes can be used to elevate your own sense of identity above those that you consider to be musically inferior.
"I only like this band's early stuff, before they sold out and became mega-popular." When reading this quote, please picture that self-important hipster that each of us have in our lives.
My oldest son is 13 and my daughter is 11. Both Ashton and Katie have begun to carve out their 'musical identities'. Ashton constantly refers to 'his' music in contrast with 'my' music. Katie loves the band One Direction for sheer teenage girl groupie reasons, however she also plays the guitar and enjoys a range of music wider than that of her squealy school co-horts. So I guess the early teens is when the formation of this ‘musical identity’ begins for most people.
Spring 1985. I was fifteen. I remember distinctly beginning to listen to music while doing my homework. I had a radio with a cassette deck, and I had recorded some of the openings of my favorite TV shows while sitting in front of our little black-and-white TV set in the basement. I had the themes to A-Team, Manimal, Buck Rogers, the Mr. T cartoon, Super Friends, Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends, Battlestar Galactica, Magnum P.I., Star Trek and dozens of other TV shows on that little cassette. My favorite was the theme from Superman the Movie, which I had caught off of a network broadcast edited-for-television movie event. It was wonderfully geeky. But it was what I liked. A guilty pleasure I neither shared with nor admitted to anyone.
My mom knew.
The first soundtrack I ever really owned was when my Cool Aunt Melodee got me the soundtrack to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom on cassette. My mom must have blabbed. But I played the HECK out of that thing. Loved it then and I love it know.
So my thing... my 'musical identity'... was orchestral movie soundtracks. This should give you some sense of how well I fit in with the other kids in school.
Meeting Matt Rusnak in French class of my sophomore year was a life-changing event. He knew I was a geek and he didn't care. He taught me how to relax and not be so high strung. (I was still high strung.) He taught me what classic rock was and shared some music with me. He made me mix tapes and suggested music and took me with him and his brother to my first concert. Chuck Berry. He took me to my second concert. George Thoroughgood. In fact... I have never ever been to a concert WITHOUT Matt Rusnak. He was my musical muse.
When I went off to college for a couple of years in West Chester, Pennsylvania, I forgot to bring Matt with me and pretty quickly became musically snobby once again. I tuned completely away from contemporary music because I felt it wasn't as good as the music Matt had taught me to like in high school. I kept the radio in my 1982 Volkswagen Rabbit tuned into classical stations so that I would seem smarter than I actually was. Hopefully Leslie Plummer (Rutherford) isn't reading this, as she's the only person that can testify to its accuracy and level of pretentiousness. The whole point being, at some point in your life you define yourself as better than other groups of people by something as simple as what music you listen to. Or what music you don't listen to.
In closing, I'm finding myself eager to point out what I'm listening to today. My latest album. Spaced Out: the VERY best music of Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner. See? Music gives me an identity and it's better than you! See? See?
Their earlier stuff was better.
Thanks,
DCD
Music is a highly technical process. I finally did end up understanding that point a few years back at the behest of my first computer programming mentor. Music is an expression that several people can band together and create. And musical tastes can be used to define an individual; in order to classify that individual for others, or give oneself an identity by choice. You can perform music and establish a connection with your audience. And musical tastes can be used to elevate your own sense of identity above those that you consider to be musically inferior.
"I only like this band's early stuff, before they sold out and became mega-popular." When reading this quote, please picture that self-important hipster that each of us have in our lives.
My oldest son is 13 and my daughter is 11. Both Ashton and Katie have begun to carve out their 'musical identities'. Ashton constantly refers to 'his' music in contrast with 'my' music. Katie loves the band One Direction for sheer teenage girl groupie reasons, however she also plays the guitar and enjoys a range of music wider than that of her squealy school co-horts. So I guess the early teens is when the formation of this ‘musical identity’ begins for most people.
Spring 1985. I was fifteen. I remember distinctly beginning to listen to music while doing my homework. I had a radio with a cassette deck, and I had recorded some of the openings of my favorite TV shows while sitting in front of our little black-and-white TV set in the basement. I had the themes to A-Team, Manimal, Buck Rogers, the Mr. T cartoon, Super Friends, Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends, Battlestar Galactica, Magnum P.I., Star Trek and dozens of other TV shows on that little cassette. My favorite was the theme from Superman the Movie, which I had caught off of a network broadcast edited-for-television movie event. It was wonderfully geeky. But it was what I liked. A guilty pleasure I neither shared with nor admitted to anyone.
My mom knew.
The first soundtrack I ever really owned was when my Cool Aunt Melodee got me the soundtrack to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom on cassette. My mom must have blabbed. But I played the HECK out of that thing. Loved it then and I love it know.
So my thing... my 'musical identity'... was orchestral movie soundtracks. This should give you some sense of how well I fit in with the other kids in school.
Meeting Matt Rusnak in French class of my sophomore year was a life-changing event. He knew I was a geek and he didn't care. He taught me how to relax and not be so high strung. (I was still high strung.) He taught me what classic rock was and shared some music with me. He made me mix tapes and suggested music and took me with him and his brother to my first concert. Chuck Berry. He took me to my second concert. George Thoroughgood. In fact... I have never ever been to a concert WITHOUT Matt Rusnak. He was my musical muse.
When I went off to college for a couple of years in West Chester, Pennsylvania, I forgot to bring Matt with me and pretty quickly became musically snobby once again. I tuned completely away from contemporary music because I felt it wasn't as good as the music Matt had taught me to like in high school. I kept the radio in my 1982 Volkswagen Rabbit tuned into classical stations so that I would seem smarter than I actually was. Hopefully Leslie Plummer (Rutherford) isn't reading this, as she's the only person that can testify to its accuracy and level of pretentiousness. The whole point being, at some point in your life you define yourself as better than other groups of people by something as simple as what music you listen to. Or what music you don't listen to.
In closing, I'm finding myself eager to point out what I'm listening to today. My latest album. Spaced Out: the VERY best music of Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner. See? Music gives me an identity and it's better than you! See? See?
Their earlier stuff was better.
Thanks,
DCD
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)