Compelling Music

Today, I find myself enjoying music much more than I did in sometime. I don't ignore or dislike music at other times, but I find myself sometimes less enthused by it. Maybe its got something to do with the fact that there are expectations attached to the act of listening to music. There is always a judgement made about the type of music one listens to and tagging involved. I sometimes find myself doing it, until I remember some of the things I find myself enjoying at the oddest moments....
Anyway, there are people who turn up their noses at what is deemed popular music, and I agree with them in most cases, until I hate myself for humming Justin Beiber. Because I'm not supposed to like him. He's a whiny kid and his music is factory generated and empty. Nothing, wholesome and cottage industry like about it.
So, I stick with my most common defense. I love music. Of all sorts. Except for the ones which I don't.  But things I don't like tend to run to particular songs, not genres. And isn't there some sort of war going on about cutting edge  and the deconstruction of the definition of cutting edge meaning it has no definite genres?
So, in the recent acquisition of the iPod number 'n', I have been selecting music of suited to my present mood and feelings and listening to it for hours on end. This a fairly normal thing to do for everyone else. But I am a relative novice to it, since I had never mastered the habit of having headphones in my ears at all times. I'd rather have my eyes squinting into a book. I equate both these acts of habit in the same category. Anyway, when I was selecting the music that would go into the damned Pod, I came across Portishead in my collection. The entire discography. I seemed to remember that I had downloaded it on a whim, when I had just heard one song (predictably "glorybox"). I hadn't tried to suss out if I'd like their other songs or not, before acquiring everything they did. So, I did what I do when it comes to books I think I should read because I aught to know them, as opposed to being genuinely interested. I put the damn thing into the iPod, and let it surprise me on shuffle.
The thing is I tried. I really tried. And I completely abhor most of it. It is so jarring and not-music-like and i'm  afraid to use this word, "experimental", that I cannot find any common thing in it to make it embed itself in my mind. I made myself sit through about five of them, and tried very hard to stop myself from changing tracks as fast as my fingers could. But I really don't understand the music. Its too jarring, and non-musical. Somewhere in my head I have this notion that music should be melodic and well, musical. I can appreciate concept. In fact I think I have an unhealthy fascination for Concept. This is probably what leads me into listing things that I should listen to, even if I have no idea if they fit into my visceral idea of what music should be.
Still, I do listen to things that feels good to my ears. Hence I am not afraid of bopping my head to somethings which would be classified by the upturned-noses as deep and critically pink pop. I enjoy it. It makes me work. If its got a good bassline trip going, I'm there. I don't need it to be Victor Wooten. I'm satisfied with James Blunt- "1973".
Its like catholic guilt, this need to appear knowledgeable and different from the rest of the populace by what in our own heads must be this deep conviction in our exceptionally pure and perfect taste in music. Its just our need to have a place where we stand out in shining celebrity when lacking in anything resembling good looks or pompom cheering capacities ( yes I hated myself the moment I said that, so don't say anything). Hence the war of wants and needs continues. I want to bop my head. But I need to know if what I want is intellectually high end or not. Dammit. Anyway, I'm beyond caring.
I like this song:

I've always loved her a little, P!nk. Because she's pop. But bad ass. And did a fucking awesomely badass version of Bohemian Rhapsody. And can sing. And basically has a sense of humor. Add Nate Ruess into the equation. His voice has captured my current intellectual imagination. From the time I heard Fun's "Carry On". Its classic. Has a bit of Freddy Mercury's range and feel. But entirely unique me thinks. So both my wants and needs have been fulfilled. And the live version is powerful as well:

And to appease my visual side and my stalky side: a video reccomended by Craig Ferguson-

I love the story in the video. Its so stupidly funny and sweet. And the songs cool too.
So thats, my first ever music post. :|

Last two weeks have been a sort of a time warp. I have been going to work, working till I drop, coming back home and then actually dropping and then spending the nights in uncomfortable and disturbed sleep. I have been set unrealistic deadlines to create the Himalayas and I have been doing it too. As a result everything I have ever thought of doing to be actually creative have pretty much gone down the drain. My laundry basket is over flowing, my cupboard is emptying at a frightening rate and I fear one of these morning when I wake up from the deadly slumber I fall into post eleven pm, I will find painted stainless steel staring back at me instead of clothes and then I'll have to dig into filth of unspeakable nature.
I have collected a pile of books which I don't have the tenacity to read more than ten pages at a time, and they are collecting, yet the thirst to buy new books isn't abating. Something tells me that my grand plans of being the erudite blue stocking by the time I'm thirty will never be successful.
Its this job. Its tedious. Though people will correct me by saying that I have it better than a lot of IT based people who don't really do anything they love. But the thing is, just because designing is something creative and I like it doesn't really make my job any less tedious. The content. The content is what matters. Designing a mammoth 40 page website for an NGO which is likely not going to be seen by anyone other than the self-back-patting members of the client doesn't do anything to my ego. It's not really serving any purpose.. other than helping them play the power games that they love. And I guess I should say that I am sort of proud of the fact that I managed to redesign a monstrosity that it was before into something a little more palatable. But that's a short satisfaction.
I have been forced to take small joys like arranging my books, and buying a decently printed bed cover and milking it for all its worth.
My father had a short stop over in Bangalore on his way back from somewhere else. And I took him around, fed him. He bought me an iPod. Again. Same model as last time. Touch. Fourth Generation. And I have lost track of how many this one makes. I will touch all the wood and all the types of wood that is there to make this one not be lost to me. Its providing me with my current joy.
I have also developed a rather unfortunate internet habit. I run through 5GB of internet in 10 days and 10GB in about 15. Its really sick.
Well. I just got an illegal internet top up. So I'm off to the land of QI. So much for writing for pleasure.