I love music. Love it. All kinds, all styles, all genres. I get goosebumps when I hear the violin kick in during the Vox cover of Pachabel's Canon, and have been known to cry when I hear bagpipes because they remind me of a funeral I went to once. Despite this passion, I had not, until very recently, jumped upon the iPod bandwagon. Well, you couldn't really say that I "jumped". It was more like I was picked up and forcibly thrown by my girlfriend. She bought me an iPod Shuffle for Christmas, and despite the fact that I had told her before that I didn't really want one, she had the good sense to know that I'm an idiot and that this would be a perfect gift for someone that truly enjoys music. The only reason that I hadn't gotten one previously, other than laziness, was that I couldn't really think of any time I'd actually use it. It's been a general rule of mine that I only run if things are chasing me, like zombies or the police, which usually only happens once or twice a month, so using it while jogging was out. I didn't think that I'd use it much at work, because I'm only actually at my desk for about an hour at a time, and I didn't want something like this to happen while I was seeing patients:
Dr. McCancercure: "Mr. Patterson, I'm afraid I have some bad news. The results of your CT scan show that you have lung cancer. It's malignant. You have less than a year to live."
Mrs. Patterson: "Oh...oh my God! Jim! No!"
Mr. Patterson: "There, there, Mabel. Don't worry. We'll get through this. I just have to hang in there until little Suzie's college graduation. I...I promised her I'd be there."
Dr. McCancercure: "Fortunately, here at Emory, we have several cutting-edge experimental treatments available for people with your type of horrible, incurable disease. This is Austin Hamilton, from the clinical trials department. He's going to discuss your options with you. Austin?"
Me: (using a tongue depressor as a microphone) "DON'T!....STOP!....THINKIN' ABOUT TOMORROW!!"
Dr. McCancercure: "Um...Austin?"
Me: (taking out iPod earbuds mid air-guitar solo) "What? Oh. Right. Cancer. Yeah, I was just demonstrating through the power of song that you, uh, totally shouldn't give up hope, and always think about tomorrow. The tomorrow where you're still alive, that is, thanks to our awesome cancer treatments! "
Ha ha! I kid, but yeah, my job can be depressing. So anyway, I never really thought I'd use an iPod even if I had wanted to go out and spend however much money they are on one.
But now that I have one, I'm inseparable from it. I have become That Guy. If you've ever ridden in a car with me, you know that if I'm driving, I begin playing air drums on the steering wheel once a song comes on, and will not stop until the car has been turned off. With an iPod blasting music directly into my ears, the desire to frantically play invisible instruments is increased by about a thousandfold. At the gym, for example. I forget that while I might think in my mind that I look like an incredible badass lifting weights while listening to The Soprano's theme, no one else can hear it but me. I've gotten some really dirty looks from people that I've accidentally kicked in the face while doing a furious aerial split at the end of a guitar solo, and anyone trying to exit the gym gets highly annoyed when it takes them 10 minutes to leave because I think I'd look cooler walking out to whatever song I'm listening to in slow motion.
My musical tastes are fairly varied, and because I can play several instruments I think that I can definitely appreciate songs on a technical level as well as a purely auditory one. Well, let me clarify that. When I say that I "play" several instruments, I'm not being entirely accurate. I played saxophone until the ninth grade, when I realized that despite everything my band teacher had told me, playing a woodwind with mediocre skill won't really get you laid. So I promptly learned to play guitar, with the rationale being that if the ugly little toad frontman from Green Day can bang groupies while playing the same three power cords over and over, then hey, so could I! Unfortunately, every other male at my high school had the same idea, and they were all much better than I was. Undeterred, I decided to learn how to play bass, figuring that this way, I could at least be in a band, and maybe get some of the girls that the lead singer and guitarist had decided they didn't want. I've noticed that bands approach recruiting a bass player with one of two methods: they either get someone who's really good, and legitimately contributes to the rhythm with a unique and distinguishable bass line, but isn't much to look at. Like Flea, from the Chili Peppers. He's incredible, but looks kind of like an anthropomorphic weasel hopped up on meth. Or, if the rest of the band is ugly, they get someone who doesn't look like they've been obsessively honing their musical genius in between playing Dungeons & Dragons in their parents basement, but will look good featured prominently on the cover of a CD. I, of course, would fall in to the latter category: no appreciable musical talent, but would look hot in a black and white photograph pensively smoking a cigarette under a bridge in Berlin. Sadly, I was unable to use my looks to coast into a career as a musician, and ended up having to sell my bass after my sophomore year in college so that I'd have money for gas to drive home for the summer. But bass players are still one leg up in the band hierarchy from the drummer, which is unfortunate, because I honestly think playing the drums takes way more skill. One of my best friends is a drummer, and watching him play is fucking amazing. I guess being able to coordinate all four of your limbs to move at completely different tempos and beats is just an innate skill, because every time that I've tried to play on his set, it sounds more like a drunk hobo falling into a pile of metal trash cans than anything even remotely harmonic. And they still get no recognition. Go ahead, name one famous drummer. See? You can't. The only one that I can think of is the guy from Def Lepard, and that's really only because he's missing an arm. I've never seen them live, so I don't know how he actually manages to play, but I'm assuming he makes up for his limb deficiency by repeatedly smashing his face into the cymbals with uncanny rhythm and precision. Oh, and the drummer from Guster, but that's because I was really impressed by the fact that he plays the drums using his bare hands, and when I saw them once in college, he actually managed to shatter his cymbal and send a jagged piece of it hurtling into the crowd, narrowly missing my left eye and coming to rest lodged in the skull of the girl behind me. The fact that there was blood everywhere and she wouldn't stop screaming surprisingly didn't lessen how cool it was. I mean, he broke a cymbal with his bare hands! That's just awesome.
So yeah, I think that I have fairly good taste in music. I've always liked punk, but not real punk, because that sounds like listening to cats being tortured and then replayed at high speeds while a retarded monkey screams in your ear. More like the Bad Religion, NOFX types of punk. Punk that doesn't really have its roots in anarchy and political commentary, but is more concerned with skateboards and hanging out at the mall. I went through a phase in college where I thought it was cool to go to large warehouses wearing pants that completely obscured my feet and dance with highschoolers dressed like butterflies to music that a British guy made on his laptop, which is always fun. Right now, I guess the best way to describe what I like is by saying that it's "Indie" rock, although I'm uncomfortable with that term. I almost feel bad admitting that I really like, for example, the Wallflowers, just because back in the day they enjoyed some amount of mainstream popularity. I mean, it's kind of a catch-22; if a band is actually really good, they'll get noticed, picked up by a major label, and you'll start hearing their songs during the Rick, Pancho and Slappy morning show on the radio. If they're not, they'll fade into obscurity. For example, I've liked Fallout Boy and Panic At the Disco for years, but it's only been recently that they've become hugely popular with angsty teenagers who wear makeup and cry because they aren't allowed to drive their parents Subaru after midnight. And this has, in a sense, ruined those bands for me. I mean, I'm certainly not going to go see one of their shows now, not only because of the high ticket price, but because I'll be the oldest person there by about 10 years and don't want to have to keep sneaking drinks from the bar to surly highschoolers. This does make me wonder, though, what my own musical taste will be like in 15 years. When I look at my parents musical collections, it's like a switch was thrown during a certain year and they didn't even know that people were still making music after that point. Maybe it was when I was born; I was probably a terrible baby, and my parents just didn't have the time to buy records or tapes or whatever because they were always taking me to the doctor after I'd shoved a crayon into my nose or tried to stick my hand in a blender. But one of the things I truly love about music is finding new bands that I like, and because I can illegally download as many songs as I want, I can go ahead and check out the band that a friend said was good without worrying about wasting eighteen dollars on a CD that will end up only having one track that I enjoy. Maybe this is the difference; back then, you actually had to go see a band in concert to know that you liked them, or buy one of their albums so that you could listen to it. I'm sure that even as I write this, Lars Ulrich has risen from his dark throne of human skulls and ordered his elite Music Reclamation Gestapo to ride forth and have me killed for piracy, but whatever. The point is, I don't think that all of a sudden, I'll wake up and say "Well! I'm 40 now! Guess I'd better stop listening to all of that innovative and easily obtainable music that I love!" If anything, I'll probably listen to it more, as music will be my only escape from the harpy-like shrieks of my future wife, in addition to calming me down when I want to throw my child out of a window because it won't stop crying. My impeccable taste is helped, of course, by the fact that I surround myself with friends who also have good taste in music. Take Lee, for example. If it will make you cry and came out before 1998, Lee is your man. He introduced me to the Wedding Present last year at a show at the Earl, and I can honestly say that it was one of the best performances I've ever been to. Or Ryan. "Ryan," I'll say, "Have you heard that new song by the Silversun Pickups? Noel played it for me last week and it's awesome". After casually tossing his scarf over his shoulder, he'll reply "I heard about them like a year ago, dude. I stopped listening to them when I realized their Myspace page had more than 100,000 views. I've moved on. Have you heard of the Orphins? No? Didn't think so. Check them out; they're good." Even Ian will occasionally surprise me by downloading a bunch of songs by some new band that he heard on NPR, although I have to admit that having him earnestly tell me that he really enjoys running while listening to My Chemical Romance was pretty funny.
The one musical style that I'm not really that in to is Country. I don't know why, but hearing a man with a twangy accent lament about how his wife shot the dog and then wrecked his pickup before running off with a fieldhand doesn't appeal to me. I've remained largely ignorant of any happenings in the Country music world, except maybe for when the fat Dixie Chick took a break from eating to announce that she thought the president was an idiot. Which was stupid of her, as the main demographic for her shitty warbling are the people responsible for electing him into power in the first place, but I thought the fact that everyone made a big deal out of it was amusing. Recently, however, I've become aware of a new element in the genre, one that I stumbled upon purely by accident. See, normally when I get home, I throw on CNN so that I have some background noise while I go through the mail, change, and reassure my frantic idiot dog that it's really me that's walked through the door and not some kind of robot imposter wearing my skin. I've had to stop with the CNN, however, as I get home right at the same time that Lou Dobbs Tonight comes on. His show is terrible, because all he's done in the last few months is talk about illegal immigration and how Mexicans are slowly killing our country. Seriously, Lou Dobbs hates Mexicans. HATES them. I think that Lou Dobbs honestly believes that the Mexican people are the root of every single problem that we as a society face in the world today:
Semi-attractive Anchorwoman: "And that was an Indian guy in a labcoat with the latest research, showing with incontrovertible proof that Global Warming is real and will one day kill us all. Terrifying! Ha ha ha! Coming up next on CNN, Lou Dobbs Tonight. What have you got for us, Lou?"
Lou Dobbs: "Tonight, I'll be discussing the hidden Mexican/Nazi/terrorism connection: is Osama bin Laden really a Mexican Hitler who's traveled forward in time to destroy America? The truth will shock you! Also, I'm going to drink a fifth of gin and then go indiscriminately fire a handgun into a crowd of migrant workers while screaming ethnic slurs and crying, live on the air! Don't miss it."
Really, his show has degenerated into this. It's sad. Anyway, I don't like watching a fat, jowly old man turn purple from his bigoted rage, so I've been putting on USA when I get home instead. This isn't much better, as I'm forced to watch Vincent D'Onofrio solve mysteries by twitching and stuttering at a suspect until they confess on Law & Order CI, but it's still better and less disturbing than Lou Dobbs' unbridled hate for immigrants. Also on USA, they have a show called Nashville Star, which I guess is kind of like TV sensation American Idol, only the contestants have sillier hats and less teeth. I've never actually seen the show, but all of the commercials prominently feature the two hosts, and this is where my interest was piqued. One of the hosts is Jewel, the folk-rock starlet who's pretty hot until she opens up her mouth and reveals her terrifying snaggletoothed maw. The other host is what appears to be a black man dressed like a gay cowboy. I'll admit that I'm not what you would call an authority on Country music fashion, but even I can tell that his getup is magnificently hideous. His gold belt buckles are typically the size of a large dinner plate, and sometimes he's wearing a checked scarf or bandanna or something around his neck, maybe with a bolo thrown in for good measure. His hats could easily be turned upside down in the event of a flood and be used as a makeshift canoe for both him and several small children. Seriously, it's like the costume room from Howdy Doody went blind and threw up all over him. The first time I saw a commercial for the show, I was curious about this guy. Then I saw him again in a commercial for Sonic fast food, where he was still dressed in his retarded cowboy uniform, but trying to think up lines for what kind of sounded like a rap song. It was here that I also learned his name: "Cowboy Troy". So who was he? Where had he come from? Was he really a black cowboy rapper? I came to two possible conclusions. The first was that the network executives, in an effort to make their show more diverse, had kidnapped some random black guy and his family and were threatening to kill them unless he pretended to be a cowboy on a nationally syndicated show about hopeful musicians trying to break into the Country music scene. This didn't seem likely, so I went with my second scenario: that this guy was actually an aspiring musician named Steve, but couldn't get his break in whatever genre he was struggling in. He then went to his agent, and they sat down to have a brainstorming session:
Steve: "I just don't understand it. I've been performing at local venues and releasing my own independent records for two years now, and I'm still no closer to getting signed. What am I doing wrong?"
Agent: "Well, Steve, the music industry is absolutely flooded with artists these days. What you need is a hook; something catchy, something that makes you stand out in a crowd."
Steve: "Like what?"
Agent: "Like...like, I don't know...maybe you could be the frontman of a band that sings nothing but thrasher anthems about how great lawnmowers are. Ooh, or maybe you could be a rapper who only wears and rhymes about the color yellow. Wait, what about "DJ I-PEN", a house DJ who only spins beats arranged in iambic pentameter? The kids would love that."
Steve: "No, no. Those just don't feel right."
Agent: "Well, we could always dress you up like a cowboy and have you rap country songs."
Steve: "Hmmm....."
Agent: "Actually, Steve, I was kidding."
Steve: "No no, wait, it'll be perfect! Totally unique! Nobody will see it coming!"
Agent: "Steve, as your agent, and more importantly as a friend who cares about you, I feel obligated to point out that the vast majority of the population that likes Country music have ancestors that used to dress up in white hoods and hang your people from trees. This might not be the best demographic for you."
Steve: "I'll be fine. This'll be great! I'll be spanning both musical and cultural divides with my non-threatening and slightly comical appearance! Wait, I need a new name. Something that rolls off the tongue, but also reminds people that I'm a rapping black cowboy. You know, in case they close their eyes and forget."
Agent: "Sigh....Uh, how about, I don't know...Cowboy Steve?"
Steve: "No, no, it has to flow better. Should it rhyme? Maybe it should rhyme. I mean, my stage name when I was in a band was "Brock Rocker", and everyone liked that."Cowboy Floyd?" No, that's stupid. What about...hmmm...Wait, I've got it! From this point forward, I shall be known as "Cowboy Troy!" Get me wardrobe! I need huge belt buckles shaped like Texas and a hat large enough to store several oversized dictionaries!"
Please be aware that I have nothing against rapping black cowboys; I would make fun of anyone dressed like this regardless of if they were white, yellow, red, or blue. I just think it's a bold move, and one that I don't think any other black musician has taken before. It's the same principle as Eminem; for the most part, I think white people trying to rap look ridiculous, but it's neat to see people say "You know what? I know that this particular genre is typically identified with this particular race, but fuck it. I'm good at it, so why I shouldn't I perform it?" Since I really was curious, I turned to Wikipedia, which I'm convinced will one day become the repository for all human knowledge, for the real story. The ballad of Cowboy Troy is actually pretty cool. It turns out he's just a guy from Texas, who, after getting a degree in psychology from UT, decided to start a music career. He's been performing since 1988, and actually enjoys a large degree of popularity in the Country music world. He describes his unique style as "Hick-hop", which is fairly retarded, but whatever. You have to admire a guy who's willing to face not only ostracization from other members of his race (I'm assuming most hip-hop artists aren't asking him appear on their albums) as well as potential hostility from the people he's trying to sell records to based solely on the color of his skin. Good for you, Cowboy Troy. You're a perfect example of what makes music great.
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