how the music moves me
Today, like every other Monday through to Friday now that I'm no longer self-employed, was a work day. And as such I was plonked in front of the PC with Visual Studio (2008 if you must know), SQL Server (2005) and Internet Explorer open. It is also obligatory for ITunes to be open at the same time to provide me with some worthwhile podcast distractions (and not just to balance the obvious Microsoft bias prevelant in the office). I digress obviously, but the point is that I try to listen to stuff as much as possible while tip-tapping away at the keyboard.
I recently became the proud owner of my sister-in-law's boyfriend's entire music collection on mp3 as I've become quite safe and staid in my musical preferences over the last few years with only British Sea Power and Rufus Wainwright being allowed to gatecrash the party. Today was the first day that I remembered to (a) bring my IPod to work and (b) copy all the songs to my work machine. I was positively trembling with excitement at the thought of all those virgin tunes ushering in a new era of audio enlightenment and enabling me to once again be cool with the kids.
So what did I listen to then? Simon and Garfunkel of course, and specifically "I am a Rock" which brought wave after wave of nostalgia crashing over me. This was fortuitously aided and abetted by my being tagged on a slew of photos on facebook from more-or-less the same time early on in my university days. If you add all that to being half-a-world-away from home, it was a nice if poignant moment.
An old friend/aquaintence stared back at me from many of the pictures, and I was reminded to dig out a poem I wrote about/for him back in 1991 when, during the summer holidays, we decided to bum around Sheffield not working and getting drunk. And write! We loved to write while getting drunk, and this poem along with the line "I have my books and my poetry to protect me" was the soundtrack of that summer.
I recently became the proud owner of my sister-in-law's boyfriend's entire music collection on mp3 as I've become quite safe and staid in my musical preferences over the last few years with only British Sea Power and Rufus Wainwright being allowed to gatecrash the party. Today was the first day that I remembered to (a) bring my IPod to work and (b) copy all the songs to my work machine. I was positively trembling with excitement at the thought of all those virgin tunes ushering in a new era of audio enlightenment and enabling me to once again be cool with the kids.
So what did I listen to then? Simon and Garfunkel of course, and specifically "I am a Rock" which brought wave after wave of nostalgia crashing over me. This was fortuitously aided and abetted by my being tagged on a slew of photos on facebook from more-or-less the same time early on in my university days. If you add all that to being half-a-world-away from home, it was a nice if poignant moment.
An old friend/aquaintence stared back at me from many of the pictures, and I was reminded to dig out a poem I wrote about/for him back in 1991 when, during the summer holidays, we decided to bum around Sheffield not working and getting drunk. And write! We loved to write while getting drunk, and this poem along with the line "I have my books and my poetry to protect me" was the soundtrack of that summer.
The Godchair
Sitting silhouetted
In that hazy smoke-filled room,
He grins with manic manner.
He always seems attuned
To ways of worldly wonder
And hope-filled halcyon heights,
Yet he feels the pain more freely
And reality more really
On those lonely winter nights.
Sitting in his Godchair
He plays another song
From those he shares so freely.
With pained expression he sings along
With loquacious lyricality,
Temporary loss of sanity,
Monumentous surreality,
Here, he will always belong.
July 1991
the godchair
image © bloohimwhom
Labels: 1991, music, nostalgia, the godchair
posted by Paul Allan White at 9:28 AM
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